Gallus

by TheAncientPolitzanian

Do They All Really Know You?

Author's Note:

To those who were here when I initially submitted this story, I apologize for my lateness. To summarize a long story, multiple plotlines were tested and abandoned, which opened the door for my perfectionism to start getting in the way. Even once I'd finally figured out the basic gist of what I wanted to say, the words struggled to come, and the ones that did often didn't felt good enough. Gallus was, and as of right now still is, my highest-rated story, and I’d have been insanely disappointed in myself if I’d managed to "ruin it" in the home stretch. I know this sounds kind of dumb, but I think a small part of me's become a little afraid of finishing this.

(Accidentally publishing an unfinished chapter after a months-long hiatus didn’t help quell those fears, either. Again, sorry about that.)

I'd like to think that I've since gotten back on track, though, so at least there’s that. Once again, I apologize for taking so long. I hope this story's delays won't tarnish your opinion of it, but in the end, that choice is yours, not mine. Regardless of that, though, thanks for sticking around this long in the first place.

And with that out of the way, let's (finally) get on with the show!

---

The number of vendors actively peddling their wares in Griffonstone's marketplace could fluctuate wildly from day to day. On some days, there could be as few as eight at peak hours; on others, seventeen different griffons could find themselves aggressively competing over customers. However, these numbers made the presumption that the weather outside would be fairly decent. And given the cold, foggy weather that'd fallen over the city, as well as most griffons' response to it, Gallus wouldn't have been too surprised if nogriffon had bothered to set up shop today.

But fortunately for him and his still-grumbling stomach, that wasn't the case. As he walked further down the long, wide street, he saw the outline of a vendor's cart emerge from the fog. Shortly after that, a second, and then a third. A few more steps forward confirmed that these were in fact the only ones present. He also managed to spot two griffons gazing at what was in stock at the first cart, plus a third, airborne griffon who quickly vanished into the fog.

Within the next minute or so, Gallus would have to figure out which one of three vendors he was going to swipe a piece of food from, and figure out a way to do it without drawing the attention of any of the five potential eyewitnesses.

...And then pay back the griffon he'd stolen from at a later date, but that part of the plan was for when he didn't feel like his stomach was going to start eating itself.

He slowed down to a somewhat-leisurely pace, trying his hardest to look like a random shopper and not like the thief he was about to become.

The first cart Gallus passed belonged to a tawny-feathered/furred griffon named Gianis. For the longest time, the merchant had held on to a pipe dream of finding a relic that would put even the Idol of Boreas to shame, and in doing so restore pride and glory to all of griffonkind. He himself recognized that the likelihood of this happening was small, but nonetheless he found some small amusement in the journeys he embarked on. Plus, he'd been making a fairly good living off of selling the various knickknacks he discovered over the course his travels.

If by "knickknacks", he meant "whatever I found lying by the side of the road."

On days where Gallus had some spare bits left over from purchasing food, he would often take a look at the items Gianis was selling. Even though today there were more important matters at hand, he couldn't help but sneak a quick peek. Today, Gianis's little collection happened to consist of, amongst other things, a wagon wheel, a dirty pillow, and a piece of wood. Since Gallus obviously couldn't eat any of those things without doing serious harm to his internal organs, he just continued walking.

The second cart, on the other hand, was almost exactly what Gallus was looking for. Laid out in neat, orderly columns and rows on top of it were various raw meats, mainly rabbit and squirrel. Cooking them wouldn't be an issue; Gallus could easily start a fire, even in these conditions. For all intents and purposes, this particular cart was the perfect candidate.

Except for the fact that it belonged to Gerard.

Gallus had tried stealing from Gerard once before. The quite literally eagle-eyed griffon, his vision and reflexes honed by decades of hunting in the surrounding forests, had instantly caught Gallus in the act and forced him to pay in bits and in free labor. He'd spent the next week flying around town while holding a sign and proclaiming to passersby that "Nogriffon can beat Gerard's meats!" (For all his hunting prowess, Gerard wasn't very good at marketing.)

Over three years later, Gallus still considered it the most embarrassing thing he'd ever done, and it would likely hold that title for the rest of his life. He was definitely not going to run the risk of letting something like that happen again. And so, he reluctantly walked past the gray griffon and the delicious-smelling meats he had for sale.

His only remaining option was now the third cart, which happened to be filled nearly to its brim with apples, apples, and more apples still. It was owned by Gage, a pale-yellow griffon who seemed to always have a satchel resting beneath his left wing. Gallus didn't know that much about him; they'd seen each other in the marketplace a couple of times, but on the few occasions they had conversed, it'd been little more than the brief sentences generally associated with the interactions between seller and buyer.

But what Gallus found most important was that Gage looked absolutely bored out of his mind; his hands was pressed against the sides of his face, and his eyes were only halfway open. Gage likely hadn't gotten many customers today, especially considering the rumors that last night's snowstorm had spoiled all of the agricultural products. The lack of stimulation and the chilly temperatures had clearly taken their toll; a part of Gallus wouldn't have been surprised if Gage fell asleep and faceplanted into his apples right there and then. And although those spoiled food rumors appeared to have some merit, Gallus could spot a few apples that appeared to have somehow survived winter's sudden onslaught.

In which case, bingo. This was the perfect storm of circumstance and good luck for Gallus to steal something and get away with it. Gage probably wouldn't even know he'd been stolen from.

Gallus took one final look around him. One of the other two shoppers had left, and the other was heavily engrossed in a probably-futile attempt to barter with Gianis. The coast seemed clear enough.

He made his move.

Mid-stride, he flicked his tail off to the side and wrapped it around one of the less-rotten-looking apples in such a way that the indigo tuft of fur at its end obscured the red fruit. Just as quickly, he swung his tail back behind him; at no point did he slow down or suggest he was doing anything other than just passing by. It was a classic technique amongst griffon thieves, and one Gallus had easily learned to mimic.

Unfortunately for Gallus, mimicry was not the equivalent of skillfulness. In the process of pulling the apple away, the imprecise movements of his tail managed to dislodge one of the other apples in the cart. It rolled over its brethren, then fell off the edge. Upon impacting the ground, its moldy exterior crumpled, and it loudly splattered against the snow.

The unpleasant-sounding noise forcibly yanked Gage back to reality. "H-Huh, what?"

The vendor's eyes opened wide, the irises panickedly darting around. Once they'd focused in on the left side of his field of vision, they located a certain blue griffon trying to abscond with a stolen apple. His tiredness immediately gave way to shock, then anger.

"Hey, kid!" Gage squawked, accusingly pointing a talon at Gallus, "Get over here right now and pay for that!"

Gallus's eyes widened, his pupils shrinking to the size of pin-tips. He proceeded to completely and utterly disregard Gage's instructions, breaking into a desperate sprint away from the scene of his crime. Gage hurriedly slammed the cart's lid shut, locked it with a metal lock, and dashed after the younger griffon.

It quickly became apparent to Gallus that he couldn't rely on speed alone to outrun his pursuer. Although he was a fairly athletic griffon, Gallus was disadvantaged by the fact he was yet to reach adulthood. Gage, meanwhile, was a fully-fledged adult still in the relative prime of his life; as such, he held the benefit of having fully developed muscles.

The only way he'd be able to get away, Gallus decided, would be to get out of Gage's sight long enough to hide himself away in the fog. He turned to the left and aimed himself towards a space between two of the buildings lining the side of the street. At the speed he was running at, it was unclear whether or not he'd be able slip through the hole. But with the help of a few quick flaps of his wings, Gallus barely managed to slip through the alleyway, the side of his right hind leg briefly scraping against one of the walls. As quickly as he'd entered the alley, he shot out of its other side, nearly bowling an older griffon over as he emerged. The griffon yelled some curses and cusses at Gallus, but they quickly faded out of earshot. Not that Gallus cared.

Risking another quick glance behind him as he ran, Gallus saw that, unfortunately for him, Gage was still on his tail. By which he meant that Gage was still chasing him, not that he'd actually gone and grabbed his tail—

Focus, Gallus, he scolded himself, Seeing as your previous evasive maneuver didn't work at all, do you have anything else up your sleeve?

As a matter of fact, he did. He put on the brakes, his claws and talons digging into the ground beneath the snow. As he slowed down, he twisted his body, causing himself to turn a complete one-hundred-and-eighty degrees. Having turned himself around, he then leapt forwards, travelling almost straight towards Gage. With another pair of wing flaps, Gallus moved out of the older griffon's path and prevented the impending head-on collision. Gage made his own attempt at preventing the collision by rolling out of the way, but in doing so stumbled into the snow and lost all of his momentum. This gave Gallus ample time to hit the ground mid-stride and, after another few seconds of running, hide himself in another alleyway to his right. He took a few more steps into the alleyway, flicked his tail away from its entrance, and pressed his back up against one of the buildings' walls, his two hind legs being the only limbs he allowed to remain on the ground. His chest slowly rose, fell, rose again, and fell again as large bursts of much-needed oxygen rushed their way into his lungs.

...Breathe in... Breathe out...

Inhale... Exhale...

After a precious minute completely devoid of any running in terror whatsoever, Gallus risked a peek around the corner, before quickly pulling his head back in. He hadn't seen anygriffon, but just to be safe, he checked once more. Reaffirming that there was no sign of Gage, he ducked back behind his cover again, then let out a long sigh of relief.

He'd gotten away.

He looked down at his tail, and the shiny red apple still tangled up in it. A small chuckle escaped his beak.

He'd gotten away.

Now all he had to do was get back home and–

"Thought you'd gotten away, didn't ya?"

Gallus yelped in surprise and, reluctantly, turned to face the source of the noise. Sure enough, it was Gage. The younger griffon tried to escape, but the older one slammed a hand down onto Gallus's tail, painfully gluing him to the ground.

"Nope, we are not doing that again. C'mere." He pulled the stolen apple out of Gallus's tail with his free hand, then yanked the young griffon further into the alleyway by one of his ears.

"Owowowowow," Gallus groaned in pain. He tried to push himself out of Gage's grasp, but the effort was in vain.

"Oh, quit your yapping," the pale-yellow griffon groaned. "This is your fault, anyway. You're the thief here, not me. And you're a terrible thief at that; that has to be one of the most amateur escape attempts I've ever seen. You have wings! All you had to do was keep flying and I wouldn't have seen your prints in the snow. But noooope, you were stupid. And now here we are."

Yes, Gallus was certainly here now. He really didn't want to be. Gage's glare felt like it was trying to carve out his soul, and the griffon's sharp tone felt like daggers cutting into him. Gallus's stomach felt like it wanted nothing more than to murder him, and his feet felt as cold as ice, and the alleyway was too small and the walls were about to reach out and devour him whole and Gage would stand there and gloat and let it happen and and and and–

"L-Look, Mr. Gage," Gallus blubbered, trying his hardest to hide the feelings of dread rising inside of him, "I'm really sorry about all this, but I–"

Gage interrupted him with an exasperated scoff. "You're 'sorry', huh? Oh, give me a break! You're just saying you're sorry because you got caught!"

"I-I was going to pay you back!"

"Likely story."

Gallus's annoyance started to shove away his fear. "Y-You... Do you seriously think I like doing this? I don't just take stuff for the heck of it!"

"Well then, enlighten me," Gage growled, narrowing his eyes. "Do tell what noble cause has driven a youth such as yourself to rob from a honest, hard-working griffon such as myself?"

"Keeping myself from starving to death, thank you very much," Gallus answered indignantly.

"Stop lying to me." Gage tightened his grip on Gallus's ear, eliciting another yelp of discomfort from the younger griffon. "Honestly, what have your folks been teaching you? You're either a bad listener, or your parents have no clue how to do their job."

That managed to strike a nerve. "Well, considering that they threw me out the door as a cub, I think it might be that second one." Gallus gestured at his oddly colored feathers and fur. "Are you colorblind, or have you seriously not noticed this yet?"

Gage raised an eyebrow. "'Colorblind'? C'mon, don't be ridiculous, I know you're blue. But someone had to've taken you in. You wouldn't be alive otherwise."

Gallus's response was quick and to the point: "No. Nobody ever offered to take me in."

There was a brief pause. "...I thought you were one of Gruff's," Gage said, eventually.

"Pffft, yeah, I wish. For some reason, I didn't get that kind of treatment."

"...You've been keeping yourself alive?"

Gallus nodded.

That seemed to have shut the older griffon up. His beak remained open for some time, but no words came out of it for the length of that while. In spite of himself, Gallus couldn't help but feel a tad smug.

"If you're telling the truth, then... color me impressed, I guess," Gage finally responded. He coughed into his free hand. "You better not be lying."

Gallus shrugged. "I'm not. Go ask Gruff if you get the chance."

There was another brief silence, during which Gage re-steadied himself. "Listen, kid, I–“

"Please stop calling me that," the younger griffon interrupted. “My name is Gallus. And I'm not a kid."

"Well then, Gallus, how old are you?"

Gallus had no idea. Without a birthday to reference, he couldn't tell for certain how old he was. Somewhere in his early teens, he presumed, but there was no way of knowing for certain outside of some sort of medical test. And he obviously couldn't do that right now, even if he had the bits to pay for it. Which he didn't. All Gallus could do was shrug his shoulders in response.

Gage buried his face in his free hand. "Oh you have got to be kidding me," he quietly murmured to himself. "Do not let him win, do not let him win, do not let him– ugh, cluck it."

He lowered his hand back down, a weary and defeated look on his face. "Alright, fine, keep the apple. But, you're going to have to do me a favor. Several, as a matter of fact."

Somewhat reluctantly, Gallus nodded once again.

"First off," Gage began, "at some point you're going to have to pay me back. With interest. How about we make it, um..."

His eyes trailed up towards the sky as he thought. "...Let's make it... triple. Yeah, triple. That means you owe me six bits.

"And," he continued, "You know that store by the Abysmal Abyss? The one that sells spelunking equipment?"

"I’m sorry, spelunking? What the heck is that?"

"Cave diving! Y’know, ropes, harnesses, stuff like that?"

"Oh! Yeah, I think I know the place."

Of course, the main thing Gallus knew about it was that the griffin in charge had allegedly once left an injured pegasus to die in the Abysmal Abyss, but now didn‘t seem like a good time to bring that particular detail up.

"Well, once Mother Nature gets her head back on straight, you're going to hightail it over there and do whatever the griffon in charge asks of you. Organizing the shelves, counting the bits, taking–"

"Wait, why there?" Gallus interrupted, partly because of his own confusion and partly because he’d already figured out the basic gist of what his "job" would entail.

"Because the griffon that runs that place happens to be my wife, thank you very much," Gage explained indignantly.

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'Oh.’” Gage rolled his eyes. "Anyway, just to make sure you can't worm your way out of this little deal of ours..."

He reached into his satchel and pulled out a blank sheet of paper and a pencil. “Here, write your name on this," he said, handing the piece of paper to Gallus. The blue griffon proceeded to scribble his name on the sheet of paper in borderline chicken-scratch. Once he'd finished, he handed it back to Gage. The older griffin promptly looked over the signature, checking to make sure it was suitably legible. A frown quickly formed on his face.

"Write it again," he said after some time had passed, outstretching the sheet of paper once more.

"Wait, seriously?" Gallus groaned.

"Just do it!"

"Okay, sheesh!"

Gallus wrote his name again, right under his previous attempt. This time, Gage found it satisfactory. With a sigh, he rolled it back up and lowered it into his pack.

"There, happy?" Gallus asked.

"I suppose I am. Now then..." He took a step forward and pointed a talon at Gallus's chest. "If you are lying about any of this, or if I figure out that somegriffon's been shoving a silver spoon down your throat your entire life, then trust me, there will be Tartarus to pay. You got that, Gallus?"

Even though he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wasn't lying — you couldn't create over a decade's worth of fake memories, after all — Gallus shrank underneath the older griffon's sharp glare. "Y-yeah, I've got it."

"Good. I hope to see you soon, Gallus."

"S-Sure thing."

Gage didn't utter another word. Silently, he chucked the apple at Gallus, the young griffin hurriedly catching it in his hands. Taking no notice, Gage walked past Gallus and back towards the marketplace. He walked farther and farther away, eventually becoming consumed by the surrounding fog and vanishing from Gallus's sight.

To say Gallus had just dodged an arrow would be an understatement. It would be far more fitting to say that, instead, the arrow had struck him in the heart and somehow hadn't killed him. Gallus, still coming to terms with this fact, could only stand in place for a few moments. His legs felt like they were glued to the ground.

After some time had passed, he finally mustered the will to move. He wrapped his tail around the apple once more, then stepped out of the alleyway. He started walking down the street at a pace just above leisurely. He wasn’t in any particular hurry, but at the same time, he would’ve preferred to escape the frosty weather sooner rather than later. He spent the next few minutes wandering the city streets, taking lefts and rights whenever he spotted a familiar landmark.

Finally, after several minutes’ worth of walking, Gallus spotted a certain building. To any other griffon, it was a bit run-down looking, but they'd likely seen far worse. For all intents and purposes, it was just another building on the side of another random street. Nothing more than that.

Gallus opened the door, stepped inside the house, and then closed the door behind him.

“Home sweet home,” he muttered to himself.

From what Gallus had gathered from the single unframed photograph that had been lying on the floor when he’d first moved in, the house had once belonged to a family of three. They'd long since moved out, for reasons that were unknown to Gallus, and no one had ever moved in afterwards.

At least, not until Gallus himself. He’d stumbled across the building two or three years ago during a particularly harsh snowstorm, and it had quickly proven to be a godsend. Sure, particularly gusty winds could blow through the building whenever they pleased, and any competent government would've had the building condemned and torn down years ago, but it definitely beat sleeping in a narrow alleyway next to a burning oil drum.

That year-and-a-half had been especially sucky, Gallus thought to himself.

Putting aside his recollections, he rubbed his feet and hands against the raggedy mat beneath him, rubbing off the rest of the snow that still clung to them. With that out of the way, he walked forwards and sat down at the table that stood in the center of the house. He flicked his tail so its end lied closer to his right arm, reached down, and picked up his apple.

Gallus dug into the apple with the sharp ridge on the end of his beak, ripping a chunk out of its side. To his surprise, it didn't taste as bad as he'd been expecting. He'd give it a solid... seven out of ten. Maybe make that seven-and-a-half out of ten.

Does that seem too generous? Yeah, probably. It's more of a... more of a seven-and-a-quarter out of ten.

But in the end, the rating was pretty much meaningless. The apple was edible, and therefore it was good enough for Gallus. The fact it tasted somewhat decent was just a bonus.

Remembering an old trick Gabby had once told him about, Gallus turned his wrist so that the apple's bottom faced his beak. If he ate it from the bottom up, she'd explained to him, for whatever reason he'd be able to eat more of it. How exactly that worked was a complete mystery to him, but seeing as it benefitted him, he saw little reason to complain.

Once he'd finished eating half the apple, Gallus stopped. He ran a hand along the surface of the table to brush the dust off, then placed the remaining half of the apple on top of it. He'd have it for dinner.

For the time being, he had a few hours to himself. He fluttered over to one of the cabinets lining the sides of the room, pulled out a book, and sat back down at the table. Like the rest of his books, he'd "borrowed" it from the ruins of Griffonstone's library. Gallus opened to the page he’d left his makeshift bookmark (the family photograph he’d found lying on the ground) in, and continued the slow, laborious process of reading the novel aloud.

Now, if one had a suitable level of skill in reading, they would have had little to no trouble reading the following paragraph:

"But even if he has been wicked," pursed Rose, "think how young he is, think that he may never have known a mother's love, or the comfort of a home; and that ill-usage and blows, or the want of bread, may have driven him to herd with stallions who have forced him to guilt. Aunt, dear aunt, for mercy's sake, think of this, before you let them drag this sick foal to a prison, which in any case must be the grave of all his chances of amendment."

Gallus wasn’t as lucky. While he did have a rudimentary understanding of the written word, there were more holes in his knowledge than a slice of cheese.

"'But even if he has been whike… wicked,' pursed — wait, since when was 'purse' a verb? — pursed Rose, 'think how young he is, think that he may have never... may never have known a mother's love, or the comfort of a home; and that ill-usage and blows, or the want of bread, may have driven him to herd with stale... stallee… stall-lions who have forced him to guilt. Aunt, dear aunt, for mercy's sake, think of this, before you let them drag this sick fool' — no, wait, that says foal, not fool — 'this sick foal to a prison, which in any case must be the gra… grave of all his chances of a... amand… ame—' Ugh!"

Discouraged by this, the most recent in a string of defeats, Gallus chucked the hardcover novel across the room. Immediately regretting his shortsighted decision, he winced as the large tome hit the wooden floor with a loud "thud!" Hurriedly flying over to the book, he examined the damage and, much to his relief, found that there wasn't much.

Taking another deep breath to steady himself and thank Grover he’d bothered to nick a hardcover copy, Gallus sat down on the floor, picked up the book, and continued to try making sense of the rest of the novel. After all, he reminded himself, he was already two hundred pages into it. If he stopped now, all of his struggles up to this point would be for nothing.

There was probably a good metaphor for his own life somewhere in that statement, but he couldn’t be bothered to look for it.

And thus, he simply kept reading.

---

Comments

[RainbowDoubleDash]

Poor Gallus. Statistically speaking him and Ocellus probably had the worst lives of the Young Six growing up (maybe Smolder too, but dragons seem to like the way they live their lives). Something to bond over, maybe.

[Ninjadeadbeard]

Of course, the main thing Gallus knew about is was that the griffin in charge had allegedly once left an injured pegasus to die in the Abysmal Abyss, but now didn‘t seem like a good time to bring that particular detail up.

Oops. Yeah, say goodbye to contracts from Equestria when they figure out the vendor once abandoned one of their seven Reigning Monarchs to die.