#116
Winter. Day 128. Evening. Eastern Snow Plains.

The projection went away after he took down the storm. I assume he used whatever power that kept the Design running did that. I've many more questions to ask him. I've still more to learn. Ginger and I have some more to learn about each other as well. But not now, better when it's appropriate.

Ginger shook me from my thoughts and motioned for me to fly us back out. The flight out of the shaft was quiet and lonesome, even with her on my back. This new weight bore a hole through my thoughts the entire way.

It took some time for our eyes to adjust to the light and its natural beauty. When they adjusted, we found the skyline as clear as ever. No storm, just the chilling wind far calmer than before. We grabbed our bags and when we turned around, the shaft sealed itself in. Leaving the rubble of Yukon's cabin atop of it. I guess it it would make the tombstones and garden seem less out of place.

Ginger and I walked until the sun went down behind a set of distant mountains. A cascading river of sunbeams breaking through the valleys and crevices. And vaguely I could see a tower before the sun a strain on the eyes from here. Ginger pointed out that it was Hestan's great tower, The Sky Spear. She told me more about this tower after we'd set up camp. The temperature had risen a fair amount to not have us in another hovel.

It had been under construction far longer than her father's current rule. A pride and joy of the entire Kingdom. To make the tower stand, a mass of cables and other super structures kept it from blowing over. And at each base of these, an entire city dwarfing an average forest. Being in a land of great plains, just past the mountains, this feat was easy for them. She did point out however, that many new magic spells had been created to help in its construction, ones that I may not be familiar with.

Drawing from that, I asked about her responsibilities as a princess to her kingdom. She explained it simply, but she was irritated about some of the topics. Politics, mostly. One way to gain land was to marry off the children to another kingdom, whether or not it was the best idea. Her father wasn't one of those though. He's a rightful king but when she'd left with her mother, his rule was becoming shaky. He sent them off for their own safety. What exactly that concern was for, she never found out, she'd a feeling that her mother did.

Another topic she preferred to talk about were the subjects of her kingdom and all the different races that she''d meet with on a daily basis. Natural traits of these races founded certain associations with their jobs or talents. Minotaurs worked well in the fields, to plow and reap the land of harvest. Their strength and endurance kept them out longer than anyone else. Nymphs aided in that as well as the cultural arts, dancing and singing most commonly. Fairies helped with magic spells and jewelry and though small, were incredibly rare to have employed in any manner. Then there were the pony races that I was already familiar with.

She added later, after a short talk about homely meals, that there was a mode of transportation to get from Pecken to Hestan: drozards. I was intrigued and asked about them. Large beasts greater and stronger than minotaurs. They held the skin akin to a dragon spiny scales and sharp eyes, but wingless and ran on four legs. Finned tails longer than three minotaurs at arms length. But they were assuredly, the fastest land creatures they had ever tamed.

The drozards were the reason that we were heading to Pecken first. They had stables full of them and Ginger knew a pony there that would lend us two. The distance between Pecken and Hestan is no easy walk, from what she tells me. We'd letters to deliver there as well, so it was two birds with one stone. Problem was finding where they were. I'll have to rely on Ginger's memory, she hopes it hasn't changed much.

Tomorrow night, I am to tell her my story; my ancestral history, so to speak.

We both agreed to turn in for the night, the moon and dark violet skies have hung over us for quite some time now and my- our eyes are a bit heavy. I will say that it felt great to fly again, just strange with my larger wingspan.

#117
Winter. Day 129. Noon. Eastern Snow Plains.

Another morning of a short and quiet breakfast, with the exception of the gradually warming weather. Though we still needed the robes to keep us warm. After stretching out and I put my wings to work a bit more. Flight is far faster than a gentle trot, after all. Carrying Ginger and our equipment on the other hoof, was a bit of a hassle, not only because of the added weight but the fact that the strength in my wings has lessened since I got here. Wasn't long before I had to take a break.

Ginger wound up dragging me across the ground on a bundle of large evergreen branches. Landing had caused my leg injury to flare up in pain. Triggered hallucinations and a needle bed of pain, too. I played with the clouds like they were cotton and glue on colored paper. The kind that was rough to the touch, uncomfortably so.

We had stopped several times for both rest and to check my health. The hallucinations linger still, but their strength has dwindled to glimpses of flies. For awhile, Ginger was entertained by my playfulness, then annoyed by the fact I couldn't keep quiet. Thinking back on it, I can barely remember a word that I said. I guess there's still some damage that hasn't healed yet.

And now, as we eat lunch, the Sky Spear's became just a bit clearer. I could barely make out the massive cables that held it in place. We're still far from the mountains that essentially border the kingdom. A marvel already of how large the thing is. Although, there was one question I have in mind, why build it so tall? It seems unnecessary to do so. Perhaps I'll ask Ginger if she knows when we settle for the night.

#118
Winter. Day 129. Late Evening. Mountains Breach, west.

So I revealed everything that has preceded me: my home and what my mother was as far as I knew. Ginger was shocked at the last portion. I had some trouble telling it, I often lost my thought and sight. I'd snap to with my eyes gazing into the core of the campfire. The crying and screaming all came back in a moment and racked my mind all at once. My heart raced at the thought and I found myself shaking again. Not from the cold, mind you. The bloody messes that scattered Market Square still held their fresh scent of warm iron. Ginger held my hoof throughout the telling, it was calming and it kept me from breaking from what I was saying.

After I trudged my way through that story, telling what happened on the ship was far easier. Although the memory is a bit hazy, I was still able to get my point across. I had some confliction of what really happened with that magic in the lockbox. I don't recall if it had actually merged itself with my mother or if it had simply vanished.

After telling her that, she turned in for the night. Tired from dragging me along. I've lied down for the past couple hours, wide awake and staring at the empty night sky. I was reminded of home. Sure the stars were different from here and the moon was elsewhere but the sky is the sky all the same. But here, it was strange and new. There was one star I could point out I recognized, pale orange in its color, to the west. It was the same star that set to the west of us in Clackerton. This opened up an option for me: running away from here and heading home. I've decided against that, as it wouldn't settle well with me. I'm sure Ginger would find a way to run me down if that were the case.

Instead, I wrote to Celestia. Taking note of the stars here in relation to that one, mapping out the brightest ones. I wrote to her more about the place I was heading and the tower that stood taller than any mountain. Promising to write more when I got there. Asked her to forward the letter to my family when she could too. I wanted them to know my progress, it wouldn't be fair to leave them out of it.

On another note, Ginger is rather adorable when she sleeps, despite her boyish behavior. It was a grave contrast compared with how Apricot sleeps, still and like a baby. Ginger was sprawled out and rolled around a fair bit, mumbling random nonsense in her native tongue. I'll need to thank her when this trip is over. I do hope that her father's worry has subsided, regardless of what it was.

#119
Winter. Day 130. Evening. Valley of Silence.

Another day of walking and traversing harsh landscapes. We've had to carefully tread around narrow cliff faces, wary of waking the creatures that lurked there. Taking paths of soft dirt or wet gravel to when we came by a small slow moving river. Moving only when boulders tumbled down the mountainside from small dragons fighting one another on summits. The legend behind the valley, so Ginger tells, is that all the animals that live hear rely on hearing more than sight. A loud voice or cry easily echoed, alerting predators to prey. So whomsoever travels here, must keep their talk low and their hooves quiet.

As for how the valley looked, little vegetation aside from a misplaced tree or two. The ground is gray and barren dried clays scarred by memories of fire. Skeletons and carcasses lied strewn about, long decayed and stench far gone. A few wagons disheveled and abandoned, their wood rotten and metals rusted. One wagon we quieted shifted through had a fair amount of her kingdom's currency. Filb, she called them. Grabbed a few books and jewelry that caught her interest as well. We'd look through them later. Anymore noise might alert the few predators that stalked the dead. Ginger was quick to silence me when I grazed my leg against a nail as I helped her out.

The truth of this venture through here, is that it's a shortcut. Shaving off at least three days of time. Always a catch to shortcuts it seems. While the trip was long, we made it through the valley without a single incident. I'd never go through that place again, though. Dreadfully quiet at times and that alone could put someone in a panic.

From this end, we could see the tower and the collection of structures that kept it standing, from this side at least. I saw how Pecken was dwarfed by slanted castle of dark stone and rings of magic that gave the massive structure further strength. Although we could see Pecken from here, it would take another full days worth of walking to get there. The Grand River encircled the entire kingdom and crossing that would take half the day alone. We have to be early birds for this, as the ferry that crossed ran on a schedule. We can see the river from here, but we're far from it.

We settled down a fair ways away from the entrance to the valley to play it safe and settled down. As I began piling the wood and sparking the fire, Ginger went through what we'd recovered from the wagon. Three books and three identical bracelets. The bracelets came from the guild they represented, the Hestan Trader's Guild. Gold bands with emerald stones. The face of the Filb coins etched into the outer latch. A simple image of a house in a sun.

Now the books were logs of purchases, sells, and trades among other towns. There were little notes on extra leaflets of one of them, stating where the group was heading to next. Apparently this one was the last one to go to Vesta and the date marked it more than five years ago. They choose poorly to go through the valley. Their books held the stains of blood and rain and what Ginger could read was barely legible. She cursed them for not using bags for such precious things. Above all, it seemed odd that she was not above pilfering the dead. Still, she said she would return them, the books, to the guild.

#120
Winter. Day 131. Late Noon. Grand River Ferry

We made our way across the empty grassy field littered with antelopes, foxes, rabbits, and a single group of drozards mulling about. Ginger pointed out the large lumbering beasts. I would say they're wingless dragons but that would be wrong. More like eels with legs like wolves, spiny heads and narrow eyes. Scales a mixture of browns and grays. Ginger pulled me from my staring, urging the importance of the ferry.

When we arrived at the shore of the single and incredibly wide dock, we were greeted by mass of mossy earthen stone. Stood only as a torso, head, and arms with hands. Sprung to life when we neared, “Who approaches?” It's voice was tired and aged and gentle. I would say that it looked at us, but its glowing blue eyes peered through us. “Ah,” it yawned. “The fair princess has returned at last. Last I saw, you were but a fledgling. Now you're barbarian.” He brought his hand to his chin, stroking his beard of moss and grass and looked at me, “You bring a friend, but not your mother?” Worry set in.

“She passed away. Fell ill as soon as we left.”

“Ah.” He lowered his head. “Your father has been worried since. I've not heard word from him since.” His faceted face of stone turned to a frown.

“Really, what happened?”

He tapped his temple with a single finger, “An amphitheater. An arena. Both are one. It has become an attraction of sorts.” He began to sound uneasy. “Your father missing since, brother Nutmeg taken the throne.” Ginger remained silent. “Merchants and bards have spun tales of plays and fights.”

“My friend, Letter, and I have been discussing a name to use as a disguise. Suggestions?”

Tough his brow was low, I could see it raise a small bit. “A name? I've never thought to name. I hear and call.” He hummed. “Anitas. Small and pretty things but such flowers wilt easily.” Hummed again, sought to speak but stopped himself. “Glalou.”

“The first botanist? It works.”

He turned his head toward the river, “The ferry arrives shortly.” he turned back. “Why a name?”

“I don't need a welcoming committee.” Ginger said sternly. “My mother's emblem is all I need.”

“Some may believe you a deceiver. You should be wary.”

Not only was a change in her name needed, but a change in her hair as well. We thought a moment until the guard took a large blade of grass out from his beard and handed it to me. “She knows not how, you do.”

Ginger looked at me confused and amused. I lowered my head a bit and recalled an old memory, “My sister had practiced with my mane when I was younger.” My face flushed with embarrassment. “Never thought I would remember it by heart.” I instructed her to sit as I circled once around her. As I mentioned before, her mane is a large blob of ginger curls. I took the long blade of grass, the length of a sword, and set my teeth on it ever so lightly.

I sat behind her, then felt her hair just a little bit. Saw how it weaved into its curls, its softness, and pale ginger color. Pulled back her mane lightly, took one half and twisted it over the other. Weaved each together and create one large braid that hung down one side. Then tied it off with the grass, knotting it so only scissors could beat it.

“There, done. I've kept this secret even from Apricot.” I looked to the golem. “How did you know, exactly?”

“My brothers and I, land has made us wise with its magic. Your hooves too gentle for a sword. A heart kind, ridden with aches. The land knows all, far wiser than I.” He then turned his attention to Ginger, placing a finger under her chin. “Be wary.” He could easily crush her head with that finger if he chose to. Pulling away, he turned to the vast river. “It arrives soon.”

Ginger simply nodded.

The ferry was smaller than I had expected, with everything else so grand in the distance. From here, Pecken looked like a cluster of colorful rocks strung together by string. The ferry was nothing to it. A large mass of cut and tied timber made it more a raft than a ferry. A single pony with a long rod pushed it through the water. At least it had a railing.

The two of us boarded the ferry, I was a bit reluctant of course. Something so rickety is hard to have some trust in. The captain, through Ginger's translation, simply informed me that magic kept it afloat. To my surprise, it didn't shift a bit when we boarded. I was relieved, but still had an unfounded nervousness. We've only crossed half of the river so far and the trip has been quiet. The captain kept to himself and Ginger seemed worried about what the golem had told her. Strangely, we were the only ones on it.

“Nutmeg,” she kept her head lowered, staring at the large fish darting underneath the raft. “Has been an unruly brother. I've only known him for a few years but I remember my mother's stories of him quite well. The worst was when he tossed when he burned down part of the keep and threw the captain of the guard into the dungeons. Held a public execution of him too.”

“I hope he was. Sounds a little crazy.”

“Well, his name is Nutmeg for a reason. Just as mine is Ginger. A natural tendency among the kingdom, to shape yourself around your name.”

“Seems natural for everypony, really.” I added.

“That may be true, there are differences, though.” Just motioned her hoof, as if to scratch the subject away. “What worries me is the fact that Nutmeg took the throne. My much older sister is first heir.”

“We'll stop by an tavern then. Gossip spreads quite a bit there. Bartenders have the gist of it.”

She gave me a knowing stare, “How would you know. Drinking doesn't seem like one of your strong points.”

“My flight instructor was a bit of a drunk. At least, he used to be.” An understatement.

She kept her stare and brought her face closer to mine. “Really now? We're in luck then.” she pulled away and idly placed on hoof into the water. She smiled, “My auntie Garlic owns one.” She frowned, “I just hope she's still running it.”

“Either way, we'll find something out.”

#121
Winter. Day 131. Evening. Pastures, Abandoned Home.

We found a golem here as well, identical in their likeness. Only this one was silent and I could feel it straining its pain. It kept quiet about it as we moved on through fields of barley and wheat untamed until a thunderstorm began to roll in. We were lucky to find this house, a single load bearing wall kept this half standing. The other half was torn apart by wind with night settling in.

We huddle into a perfectly stony corner, safe from the rain and wind. The warm air was new, so we stripped out of our bags and robes and used them as bedding. Ginger adjusted the oil lamp she had and pulled out our dinner: a couple apples and burdock leaves. The flickering flame danced in its little case case, vented by thin metal, brown and dirty, rough to the touch.

I thought about how far I would be going into Hestan with Ginger. “So, what kind of mannerisms does the nobility use in Hestan?”

She looked back, a bit absentmindedly. “I-I'm not sure. It's been so long that it's all become extremely vague.” Her eyes flickered with thought. “I know auntie can help with it.”

“Ah, that's fine. I just figure that since you're royalty and I don't know how far I'll be allowed, I figured some manners might help.”

“Of course.” she smiled. “Manners are always good to have. Living in Vesta has taught me a few things otherwise.” Her smile turned a bit wicked. “Like slaughtering rodents and pests and how to cook them.”

Letting that sit in, she continued, “I didn't eat them, mind you. Stomachs not suited for it. Minotaur couple that lived out there. For a while, they were helpless.”

“Good that you helped, then.” It relieved me but still it was still strange.

“True. While it is sometimes fun, it is also disgusting and messy.” She gulped down some water. “I suppose I could teach you some of the language. Basic conversation at least. My auntie can teach us the proper mannerisms. We'll begin tomorrow during our first break, keep your little book out for notes.” She answered my question before I could speak. “I've caught you writing several times in the middle of the night. A wonder how you're even awake as much as you are.”

“It's a journal,” I confessed. “I try to make them short if possible. It's also a bit helpful for my memory; doctor's orders.” I shrugged.

“Very well. I'll do well to remember that. Is it filled yet?”

Pulling the journal from my bags, I flipped through the remaining pages. “About fifty or so left. No idea how quickly I'll fill them up.” I closed the leather bound journal and clasped the gold latch in place. Gold enforced the binding too and filled the engraving that marked it as a journal. It is a small thing, a wonder how I could with hooves. Fortunately, Equestrian writing is not nearly as intricate the Designer's Script. Even then, the script is mostly straight and angled lines.

“You know, I could get a new one for you, bags too. If you're to go on this journey of yours, you need a proper start.”

“That would be great. I'd have no idea where to start looking.”

She laughed warmly, “Well, it shouldn't be too hard. Hestan is well known for libraries and academies. Knowledge is exceedingly important after all.”

“True.” Lightning struck through the sky, its roar shook the house. The flash of light lit up her weary face. “Let's get some sleep. We'll need the rest. Tomorrow's a big day and neither one of us should be tired for it.”

“Yeah.” I said, curling up before letting my eyes doze off. “Sleep well.”