Chapter 54: Culture of the West (Aurora)

  Far to the northwest, away from the harsh and humid climate of the dense jungles of Jali, in the highlands of Yannis, Aurora Mert and her party were moving to the south toward Antil, the capital city of the Yannis kingdom. The foot pathways did exist in these rough highlands, though it became very visible with each day's march that foot traffic was not a norm of transport in this world. Aurora noticed this quickly. Holly had her suspicions, as she, being a sea captain and sailor for most of her life, knew that most of the trade and travel around the nation of Yannis took place along ocean coastline routes, both on land travel and by sea. However, it only began to be questioned during this excursion onto land with Kristoff the shaman leading the way, and even he did not seem the most confident of the pathing.

  Much like Archana to the South East, Yannis, being the only other truly formed kingdom on the continent of Wiera, was larger, separated, and isolated from the majority of the rest of the world. However, unlike Archana, which was nearly empty and void of human beings, whether Gebo or Naudiz, Yannis had numerous peoples and thus kept trade routes open. Yet their lands, the lands of the nation, were rugged highlands, full of valleys and plateaus, shelves, and cliffs. Mountain lands that made land born travel an extreme hassle, as many places were virtually cut off from one another by the jagged peaks or the freezes of winter and the landslides of spring.

  "Our legends tell us that most of the clans of our world were oblivious to other villages and their families until a little before the war between Kaya and Iagus," Kristoff spoke as he walked. He kept his voice intentionally lower as the party walked along a hardly worn path that he believed would eventually lead to the interior, which housed the capital. Knowledge concerning Yannis wasn't forbidden, but generally not seen as worth discussing. Yannis fully formed after that grand war between the two immortals and their followers. The various clans of Yannis banded together as a federation of sorts, with an election process for which house took the throne. They found a spot in the interior of their rough lands and spent a generation establishing a city that could thrive in such a normally difficult terrain, and they adopted and began breeding wyverns. Soon, nine of every ten wyverns in Wiera were under the ownership of Yannis families. The beasts struggled at first to adapt to the climate and the generally colder climates than a reptile would enjoy, such as in the lands near Sultra from where they originally existed, yet the beasts, through selective breeding, soon became exactly what the noble leaders of Yannis had dreamed of. Thus, they then became both beasts of military and general transport.

  "Why wouldn't they have bred Pegs?" asked Isla, interrupting Kristoff from a spout of explanation. The question was reasonable, especially for the girl who had spent her whole life with pegasi and very much knew how naturally resilient they are in colder climates due to their fur and thick manes.

  "I think it probably had to do with our lands barely having flat grasslands," Kristoff mentioned. "The wyverns eat meat and other animals, whereas your flying horses require grain and grass to eat, vegetables and other things that are generally a rare luxury in our lands. I think the early people of our unified nation decided against the risk of starvation and loss of what little greenery we have. Also, a normal adult wyvern is two or three times the size of a peg; thus, it wouldn't do anywhere near as well for transporting goods between towns and clans." What Kristoff spoke was pure truth. Yes, there were land routes along the coast for some cities, and also the naval trading routes that established as the country became what it is today, but one of the most needed uses for wyverns was as couriers and shipping animals. In fact, many of the warriors and trained combat fighters, whether noble or common in Yannis, spent far more time shipping goods with their animal partner than in military or violent uses.

  "Please, Irla!" Kristoff called out. "Don't fly above us; please just stay to the ground with us." The younger flyer tugged the reins of her stead, Opeth, to land and remove themselves from the air. She did not question the call by the shaman and was merely staying up to allow for any scouting of what could come from the surrounding areas and provide ample intel if an ambush of sorts was on the horizon.

  "Why do you want our scout staying grounded, shaman?" Holly asked as she staggered a bit. The sea captain and axe-wielding pirate was visibly not doing well on land and had resorted to using her axe as a sort of walking stick. Her body had gotten far too acclimated to the rocking and roaring of the seas, and more particularly the violent seas of the waters surrounding Yannis outside the gulf.

  "We aren't exactly trying to hide ourselves, but Aurora is a rather famous bird, and also wanted by Dol and the Bruin family, and even her own family. So we probably shouldn't openly advertise our position. That is all I am saying. Look at us, we don't exactly have a grand military escort." As he says this, Holly has to turn aside and vomit due to her body struggling to adjust to land. Aurora takes stock of the small group and agrees with Kristoff, though she is unhappy with the assessment. Not because he is wrong, but because she is confronted in this moment with the truth that the small party really isn't suited for any grand fighting. She hopes, however, when they reach Antil that she will be able to bolster official support from the King and gain an ally in the whole kingdom of Yannis, adding another rally against the Bruin. For all their party knows, things are still dire in the effort to resist the golden bear flags the world over. A small tear forms in the eye of the lady, which she quickly wafts away so as not to yield to her emotions, hoping to not let her feelings and fear become known to the others.

  "Keep a brave face." She thinks to herself.

  The shaman decided not to mention his own impending fear of being discovered and having collectors seeking repayment of debts long since avoided come calling after the party. He had been gone many years but feared discovery of his identity still.

  "Holly, I think I have something that will help with your situation!" Edwin randomly says as if he had his first thought of the day. The comment breaks the hanging tension in the air, and all in the party stop to take notice of the "priest."

  "I'm not taking any of your crackpot potions, you quack!" Holly says and even swings her axe at the man riffling through the small bag he is carrying with him. The axe swing barely goes over Edwin's head, only cutting three hairs on his head.

  "Was that intentional? Or did she miss?" Isla asks Irla as the two fliers walk next to each other, lightly holding the reins of their mounts.

  "Looked like that swing was intended to kill, but I think it best we act like we didn't see it. Edwin seems to be ignoring it." It was true; Edwin, being concerned with looking for whatever he sought to pull from his bag, had not noticed the attempt to claim his head made by the sea captain.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "HERE IT IS!" The priest pulled from the bag a large bottle, one almost too large to fit into the bag he was carrying.

  "I told you I am not drinking any magic elixir bologna that you or some snake oil merchant made up!" Holly protested. Though in the swinging of her axe, she lost balance and fell over onto her back. She sighed deeply as her swirling vision grew worse while she gazed at the clouds above.

  "POP!" The cork lid was removed by Edwin, and the smell of the bottle corrected any false accusations of the contents inside.

  "Is that RUM?!" Holly jumped up quickly with newfound life, grabbed the bottle with both hands, and began nursing it like a baby to a mother's breast.

  "GULP! GULP!" A few deep sips were swallowed in quick succession by the woman of the sea. She then pulled the bottle from her mouth and wiped her face with her forearm. After a few moments, she was able to walk without issue, standing strong on her own two feet. She then took the cork from Edwin, placed the top back on the bottle, and clutched the neck as though it were a prized heirloom from generations prior.

  "Glad you're feeling better, captain," Edwin said while reaching for the bottle. Holly threw a strong hand into the face of the moronic priest, blocking any attempt to wrest the bottle back into his possession. The sea captain seemed too comfortable with the addition of alcohol to her system and would not part with the drink.

  "Priest, if you want to keep your arms, you better not reach for this magic potion again."

  "Uhhh… It's not a magic potion, Holly, it's just rum."

  "Little boy," Holly proclaimed, even though Edwin really wasn't much different in age. "This here magic elixir might just be what allows me to save your pasty ass if a raiding party comes and stomps at us." Holly pulled the confused priest to her chest, holding his head in her armpit as she took another two gulps from the jug clutched in her hand.

  "Better just give up, Edwin. Miss Holly might just be the strongest and best in combat out of all our party; if she gets mad at you, I doubt we could save you," Kristoff calls to the other male of the party with a smile. The shaman spoke, never turning toward the odd pair bickering and squabbling over a bottle. Kristoff knew he needed to maintain focus on the surroundings. While the air was generally safe for those of Yannis to travel, at times the grounds being lesser traveled held opportunities for bandit gangs and the like. Holly stabilized herself quickly as the normal slosh of drink returned the natural equilibrium of the seas upon her boat to her mind. No longer was she staggered, but she became slightly more touchy and violent in her movements. She kept Edwin in a headlock with her right arm for a good half mile of walking before eventually releasing him much to the laughter of everyone in the party, even Aurora.

  The lady of Mert was thankful in these tense moments to still find freedom in the company of her companions. Thankful. She knew when they arrived at the royal grounds of Antil that perhaps the future could change drastically and perhaps her very freedom as a person and body as a woman may be no longer hers to bargain with in pursuit of her goal to see her people clear of the oppression and rule of the Bruin household. These are the things swirling inside her head as they walk and laugh.

  But for now, she just smiles, turning her cheeks red from the normal porcelain blush of her divine visage. Her milky eyes close behind the thick lashes that protect them from the pain of Wiera. Isla turns around after scolding and laughing at the expense of the moronic priest, and in seeing the expression on her best friend's face, the flyer can't help but enjoy the serenity of the fellowship experienced.

  "If this is the only good thing that comes from us bringing along that idiot, then it was worth having him bumbling about with us," Isla thinks to herself. The flyer's mind still feels a trace of fog swirling inside her head, but she can tell more of her normative thoughts and feelings are her own and not some spilling of a different person out of her subconscious.

  ………

  The party moves with purpose, but the routes are long, and the paths narrow. It has now been roughly six days since they left Razor's Point, and Kristoff still wasn't fully aware of how much longer it would be until the group would arrive at Antil's Plateau, an area of high grasslands and potato fields, one of the few spots of non-coastal agriculture in the whole of the Western coast of Wiera.

  In the six days, the party had seen perhaps a handful of other road travelers. Overhead, on occasion, the party would see a wyvern or train of wyverns, clearly moving with the purpose of transporting goods. Nearly any traveler in these lands had some sort of self-defense items or weapons on them, even those in the air. Yet, almost all wyverns were in the possession of landed families and those of good character in the eyes of society, and thus raids, skirmishes, and problems rarely arose along the air currents. It was the ground that created the more prominent threats, as the wyverns on many roads and paths were too large to maneuver and descend to engage; thus, the sky knights of the realm proved moot often in guarding the narrow corridors of land travel, especially on the interior where ravine channels after the thawing of seasonal snows became the normal pathways when dry.

  ……….

  "Hey boss," a scout calls out to his leader. A small group of bandits had taken up shelter in a series of caves for the season of low tide. As the main rains and snow run-offs for this year's cycle had long since passed over these lands, the caves were generally safe to use for cover and shelter. Thus, degenerate gangs, usually made up of orphans and those who were banished by families or from hub towns and cities of Yannis coalesced together with the intent of survival, by whatever means possible.

  "What? What news do you have, Quana?"

  "Boss Aynar, there is a party coming along the pathway toward Antil, travelling by foot." The scout speaks with great zeal, allowing the boss of this outfit to know there is something being spoken beyond just what has been said by the man.

  "And…" Aynar says with an inflection of curiosity. While foot travel was rare, it did happen, and while these bandit gangs and groups of societal misfits did exist, they mostly did their best to remain unknown and not give away any idea as to where their main hideouts were. It was incredibly uncommon for them to take targets near their own dwellings, and usually, they would move along different pathways posing as foot merchants themselves and then conduct small-scale robberies or exact a toll from travelers to survive.

  This group of brigands hiding and living a life as best they could inside this random cave system currently had a roster of 27 people, almost all men, as women in general are far less likely to be deemed "too wild" by any society. Such is the curse of being a woman. To be truly excluded, she must become truly erratic, for even the worst creatures of their gender are still tolerated for the benefit of their bodies. Thus, these types of outcast groups are almost exclusively male, for a woman only has to have the smallest of conforming behavior or hygiene, and mankind will always find a home for her. It might not be a functional, healthy, or supportive home, but a roof she will almost certainly have.

  "Well, the group seems to have two pegasus with them."

  "As in the flying horses most used by the people from across the gulf?" Aynar rubs his chin with keen interest, mapping out inside his head the thoughts and memories he owns about these flying horses. He is no scholar or person of great knowledge, so his mind is wrapped deep in quandary, perplexed about the words of two pegasus being in the company his scout has just reported. "So they clearly are not from around here. But why are they traveling on foot?"

  "If they are on foot, then they probably don't wish to be seen."

  "That could be the perfect opportunity for a lick we can hit without major risk of retaliation from the landed gentry of these highlands. WELL DONE, QUANA!" He reaches out and shakes the hand of the lookout with jubilant glee in his eyes. "Rally up everyone, even you, Davi and Hijan. This could be the party raid that settles us up until we have to break camp for the floods of spring." As the words reach each person's mind and unlock the ideas of stable life and little risk for a good series of time ahead, the band of outcasts finds purpose in their movements going forward, attaching bracers, gathering up their meager lot of weapons or items used as weapons, and slapping each other with intent to increase blood flow and vigor.

  "How wonderful! We may just last through the coming winter!" Hijan calls out as he grabs a macelike object.