“It is as you say, that I have been sent here by my master for such.” I gave a sardonic yet weary grin.
He did not return my grin, but simply nodded stiffly and bade me follow him.
Traveling past the front gate further into the massive stone compound, we traveled past a reception desk of sorts with several small posts pinned to a board and group of soldiers hovering around it. Next, we traveled through a large practice yard that had several straw figures being shot, stabbed and burned by various younger looking cadets. Then we went down a hallway that had boisterous noises and the smell of food wafting out of some of its side passages, and finally to a massive courtyard with several soldiers running drills with their Oh . . . My . . . . Goodness! Those things were Huge!
I couldn’t assume them as being anything other than griffins. They looked to be at least 3 meters in height on all fours. Majestic wings spans that could support the weight of both beast and rider stirred up dusty winds in the courtyard, while regal eagle faces leered down at all but their assigned companion, as if in disdain and that all else was below them.
I had heard that these were highly prideful creatures, and this further cemented that learning.
“We have further to go, before we reach the nests.” The soldier that had been guiding me broke me from my dazed observation with his words.
“Yes. I was just appreciating their beauty.” I defended my actions.
Finally, a smile cracked his face at my admission. “They certainly are regal creatures.” A wistful tone came over his voice as he continued. “Someday I hope to join their ranks among the skies.” Then his eyes cast downward. “Unfortunately, you usually have to start out young, and be raised along with the new born Griffins in order to build the necessary bonds to stand as their equal and companion. It is especially rare for a widowed griffin to accept a new rider once their old one dies.” His eyes hardened with resolve as he added. “But it has happened before.”
Allowing us to pause for a moment longer in order to enjoy the view, the soldier then returned to leading the way past the large courtyard. Next up on the impromptu tour was a stable for horses, after which we came to an even larger clearing than the courtyard before. Situated in the midst of it, I could see a series of 14 wide and tall pillars. They were individually placed in a massive circle and evenly spaced apart with winding circular stairs leading to the top. From my vantage point, I could see what looked to be straw or nesting of some sort, dangling over the ledge of some of the pillar tops. Each pillar was at least two to three stories in height and about five to six meters in diameter. In the very middle of the 14-pillar formation was a massive tree, which rose beyond them in the midst, offering a large amount of shade and protection from the elements.
I thought I heard some light chirping come from high up in some of the pillars. Then suddenly from one of them, I could see the rear haunches of a griffin hang over the edge and . . . OH! It shat right there, causing a decently long, white tinged piece of feces to drop from the almost three story height, and come splashing down to the ground below.
Humor filled the leading soldier’s voice as he again spoke. “Juvenile griffins refuse to do their business in the nest, which is generally a good thing for us. However, their alternative is to lean out over the edge of the nest and release it there. I guess that although they care for their own nest, they aren’t as considerate to those around them.”
As he spoke, I watched as a younger recruit that looked to be a lion and human hybrid about my age rush out from the horse stables, with what looked like a poop scooper. Sure enough, he ran to the recently discharged feces and began scraping it off the stone ground into the awaiting shovel.
“That guy there is a new Traveler recruit that we picked up. He tends to the horses and griffin feces clean-up duty. He is the one that you’d need to speak to about getting the buildup of feces that we keep for requesters such as yourself.”
“Oye!” The solder called out. “Newbe. . . We have a request for some of that Griffin poop!” Then nodding to me he just left me there with the Traveler looking at me. Now left alone except for the other Traveler, I watched briefly as the other soldier departed.
“Hey!” The young lion boy called to me as he approached. “It’s nice to meet another Traveler here. I’m Steven. What’s your name?” Holding out his dried and mud? caked hand for a shake, I paused for a brief moment, considering the implication of what was on there, before I too reached out for it.
Before I could grip his hand in a shake, he suddenly yanked it away with a laugh. *Hahah!* “I’m just kidding man. I know I’m not clean right now. Here, follow me.” Walking towards the stables with his shovel full of feces in hand, he motioned me to come with him.
Once under the awning of the stables, he brought me to a large barrel that had a kind of acrid scent to it. Lifting the scooping shovel to the lip of the barrel, he knocked the sticky poop in to join the rest of the mixture.
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“This here is the accumulation of Griffin feces, that we keep.” Motioning to the various horses in the stall and explained. “We actually do set rotations of the city and military patrols for when they stall their horses here. They want to desensitize them to the presence of Griffins so that they don’t freak upon the arrival of our griffin regiment, when circumstances necessitate their presence. I’ve been told that it is a powerful maneuver that is very effective when challenging most creatures or opposing armies, when our calvary remains calm in standing while theirs rear and scatter in panic at the arrival of our feathered friends.”
After dumping the griffin feces, he went to a hose with running water and nearby soap to wash his hands. Now with a clean hand he once again reached out for a shake which I respectfully returned.
“I’m Andrew. It’s nice to meet you.” Staring out at the horse stalls and with my eyes lingering on the acrid smelling barrel I asked. “How did you end up with this position? Or is this what they’ve been doing for new Travelers that take the offer to join the military?”
“Hah! No, I almost wish that I could join their group.” Holding up his hand to extend and retract his claws, he explained. “They said it was something about Griffins favoring races that share a common ancestor. I guess if someone had chosen to be a griffin, eagle, or like me, a lion demi, then they’d also be welcome here. I don’t know if that means that I’d be considered for possibly joining the regiment of griffin riders.” Excitement filled his eyes at that prospect. “That would for sure be an awesome ride!”
“What about you? What’s got you running errands to collect Griffin feces? Do you work in deliveries or something?”
*Snort* “You’d certainly think so with what my master has had me doing, but no.” I replied. “I am the official apprentice of Apothecary Victoria.”
Stevens eyes widened at my claim. “You’re kidding me, right?!” He exclaimed in surprise. “The best healing potions we can redeem with contribution points are made by her!” Almost bending down to a knee, despite the surroundings he begged me. “Please help me build a connection with her.”
Feeling bemused and more than a little awkward, I pulled him up from his semi-kneeling position.
“Look, if you want to drop by the Apothecary shop sometime, feel free to ask for me. If it’s anytime I’m not at work in real life and before noon, you’ll see me at the front counter with my head buried in a book I’m working to memorize.”
“Real life, hah!” Steven scoffed at the mention. “I’m a radiologist and despite some of the gnarly things I’ve seen in my work, the things I’ve been able to experience here makes real life pale in comparison.” Pointing up at the array of Griffin nests he said “This life here is that one that I’d rather live in.” Then looking at the horse stall around him, “despite where they’ve got me now, I can only work up from here.”
“Speaking of work, what do you do in real life.?” He asked me.
“Oh” Trying to explain that I was a PCT in a nursing home confuses people in the know, so I just said. “I work as a nurses’ aid in a dementia unit. But my current studies are in pharmaceutical botany.”
*Heh!* “So you want to grow your own marijuana?” He asked in jest.
*Sigh* I knew where he got that idea from. With Millennial Enterprises being the all-encompassing global company it is, it had taken over and resolved all non-mutated diseased. As such, those working in pharmaceutical botany had been forced to either find a different occupation to live by, or to adjust their focus on growing the legal and sometime illegal medicinal drugs that others got high off of.
I finally replied with. “No, my studies are from a legitimate interest in real medicinal plants. You’ve heard of those cases that involve mutated diseases that science can’t explain right?”
A dark look crossed over Steven’s face at my words. “Those things aren’t real!” He scoffed. “Be careful what you believe in.” His eyes and voice waxed eloquent as if he was making a well thought out proclamation. “And I’d suggest laying off those small-time news articles which talk of space aliens and government conspiracies. Those articles aren’t widespread because they have to be legit to speak the truth and be known by the larger public.” He poked my chest with his finger. “You’ll see.”
“Seriously man.” I spoke. “My very own sister contracted one of those mutated diseases in front of me. How can you argue against that?” I asked. I hated having to bring up something so personal in a casual meet such as this, in order to show my stance.
“Oh yeah?” He replied. “What did she catch? Another version of COVID that everyone keeps getting? That’s not a mutation. What’s her name? I’ll look her up and see if I can find anything about her ‘mutated’ disease.” he did the air quotations as he said that. “If I can’t find anything from the widespread reports, then it didn’t happen.”
A wave of anger and frustration rose up within me at his resistance to hear my story that I had personally lived.
“Look man.” He said, “Let’s not talk about that, as it’s ruining my immersion of this place. I don’t like bringing politics into an awesome game like this.”
‘Diseases aren’t politics, or at least they shouldn’t be!’ I inwardly screamed. Mentally forcing myself to calm down, I tried to organize my thoughts.
*Sigh* Propaganda, or in other words legalized lies for the sake of political gain, had become rampant around the time of WWIII. My grandfather when he was still alive, had told me of how so many people are led astray, simply because they just couldn’t wrap their head around the idea that the government or their political party could intentionally lie so convincingly. Their political leaders would offer these amazing and ideological arguments, giving rousing speeches of how they were going to stamp out corruption in the world and save the little guy or the minorities.
When it came down to their frequent failure to keep their campaign promises, too many of their constituents were all too ready to justify their actions by saying that their heart was in the right place and that it was the other side’s fault for getting in the way. And thus, they would continue to keep voting for what they idealized and wanted to believe in, without regard to if it was practical or even possible.
Things had gotten quite a bit better since the conclusion of WWIII as a great part of the people had been forced to pull their heads out of the sand and face the music, but there were still some die-hards. Grandpa had been what you call politically moderate. He saw the good on both sides of the political spectrum. Believing that some of the old things were good to keep, as they had proven their reliability through time. Other topics did need a new viewpoint and new solution as times do change, and with-it older dealings no longer were as efficient or considered right in the light that had been shone upon them. He said that not all ancient ideas were good to keep, just as not all new ideas were proper to adopt. You need a balanced mind of logic and compassion to walk the narrow road.
Something I’d learned on my own, is that frequently extremists on both sides, are too head strong to change their mind. The best thing, was to let them live their life in their own world, and not seek to shatter their personal image of how life should be. For that is when chaos ensues, if they cannot bear the hard truth of a reality check.
In any case, I came here with a job to do. Starting a debate with the person who had what I needed would not be a wise decision. So, I just smiled without any feeling behind it and nodded. “You are right, we shouldn’t ruin this place with discussions of politics.” I replied.
His gratified smile rankled at something deep within me, but I bore with it. “Do you mind helping me with getting this thing filled up?” I asked.
Together we got the wheel barrow filled to a safe to transport level, and I then made my way back to the apothecary shop with a promise from him to visit sometime.