The "Tourist"

by Monochrome-1

Chapter Three: A long day at The Northern Port

Okay, what to do, what to do, Zephyr thought to himself as he sat at a bench in one of the town’s open streets as he looked at the travel guide. It had been a few hours since he had left Ms. Coffin’s house and after wandering around for a bit he had grown bored. Seeing the sights, checking the place was nice and all, but it would be better to have something to do,

So, the question was, what then? The travel guide didn’t exactly advertise any tourist destinations to visit. Instead it only had directions for local markets, basic instructions on various phrases to keep in mind, who to swap currency with, where to get papers, and a few people that he could go to if he needed a job. None of which exactly felt interesting or fun to do at the moment.

“Well not sure what I expected to be honest in hindsight,” Zephyr muttered to himself as he flipped through the book noting the contents. “This book is meant for people wanting to stay here, not wanting to take a joy ride through the place.”

However there was something in that book that did interest Zephyr’s second go around through it, and that was what was within the shopping district of the northern port market was the artisan shops. A set of shops that the book described had existed for millennia throughout The Isles and whose workers were focused on quality and perfection above all.

For when the dragons learned of the foreign techniques that in turn produced bronze, silk clothes, glass sculptures, weapons, and more, a few of them sought to master it. With them proclaiming that as dragons are the fiercest creature within the world, their wares and their goods should match them as well. “The clothes that a king should wear should be the finest above all, and who better than he to craft them himself,” was a common saying among them when asked on why they pursued their craft.

Nicknaming themselves artisans’ these enigmatic dragons threw themselves into their newfound interest with gusto and vitality. Dedicating their hoards and countless hours of their lives so they may learn the secrets of their chosen trade and thereby perfect it. They did not have much in the way of tradition nor in apprenticeships or the like that many other countries had, but still they endeavored, they learned what they could, and they advanced it in the ways that they can. Making goods and relics that the book would say would put any other to shame.

And all the while they had survived when The Isles had opened itself formally to the world, and the flood of cheap and mass produced goods from the outside world wiped out lesser workshops and trades. The source of which the book explained came from their reputation and influence. With one source proudly stating that it was them who had created The Bloodstone Scepter, the staff of office for the Dragon Lord. The symbol of which represented dragons across The Isles, and perhaps across the entire world as they formally gave their permission to the wielder so they may rule them. A hallmark for their craft and trade that signified their importance to dragonkind.

However the sands of time had worn them down long before the opening of The Isles the book lamented as Zephyr read through it. While they still held the prestige that had so long ago, their numbers had dwindled throughout the ages. With their workshops and their rank and file dwindling to less than a hundred. Thanks to this the book explained that in the past century they’ve had to take on non-dragon apprentices to fill their numbers as less and less dragons became interested in the artisan tradition.

Nonetheless the book explained that they still persisted with a small number of their shops located throughout The Isles. One of which, a metalsmith’s shop, was within the northern ports and nearby from where he was. Originally a blacksmith’s shop it was converted in the past few decades to accommodate the metalsmiths trade as a whole in time due to the artisan’s ever dwindling numbers.

“Well I guess I'm heading there first,” Zephyr said to himself as he noted the directions, grabbed his suitcase, stood up, and began to make his way to it. “Hopefully they’ll still be there when I arrive.”

The sounds of hammers on metal, the clinking of tools, the grumbling of workers, and the waves of heat were the first things that greeted Zephyr when he made his way to the artisan’s shop. And the first thing that came to his mind was that it was a strange place, especially from any other metalsmiths shop that he saw back in Equestria.

The shop itself was made entirely out of stone, but not made by stone that was quarried and made into tiny uniform bricks stacked together like many people would ordinarily do. No, instead the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling itself felt like it was carved entirely out of a single block that was then polished together. The only evidence even suggesting that it wasn’t was the tiled floor made from a mosaic floor.

All the while, the shop itself was strange to look at from a distance much less be within. The place itself felt both large and small, like at one moment it was tall as a castle, and the next like it was an ordinary shop no taller than any other. A tile seen from within could be the ordinary distance for a man one moment and at the other it could feel like it was made for a giant.

Nonetheless, the shop’s front was mostly empty at the moment. With only a few people within the place and idly looking at the finished goods that were on display and placed within the cabinet: hammers, jugs, nails, small statues of people, cups, chains, dice, harps,swords, shields, pieces of armor, and more.

The place itself felt like it had everything that one could imagine within it. With the quality and the materials used in those crafts being almost impeccable and bordering on the supernatural. A metallic harp for instance that was kept on a display rack could be as light as a feather, its strings made from solid steel that felt like they were made instead from ordinary animal gut, and still only weighing less than a few pounds. A remarkable achievement that could be seen as a potential magnum opus from an instrument maker.

But there was a sort of disquiet in the air. The only one attending the counter, the attendant, was clearly an outsider. A small man, an earth pony who frantically stood still, hardly talked or even moved at all except to do transactions, and who did his very best not to look behind him. With the sweat on his brow and the look in his eyes mirroring that of a small rabbit answering the call of nature knowing they were watched by a hungry wolf. They didn’t even spare a glance as Zephyr made his way through to watch what was going on in the background, and neither did they when out of curiosity Zephyr stepped behind to see what was going on with the smiths.

And the moment that Zephyr made his way behind the counter and towards the back, it was almost like entering a dream or falling half asleep. The distance between tiles and the floor stretched more and more and more like a rubber band being pulled to the breaking point. Being in this place set him on edge, it made the vision in his eyes hazy, and it scratched parts of his brain and in the inner parts of his skull that he didn’t even know existed until now.

But yet strangely it felt ordinary? Zephyr didn’t know why, perhaps it was his time with Discord while he hid away from the world in his sister’s home that made these things ordinary now. After all, waking up one morning to find yourself floating and having to stitch yourself back together certainly made for a unique perspective on the world. One where the extraordinary and the unfamiliar now felt mundane.

Nevertheless with one foot in front of the other Zephyr made his way through and into the back where he could watch the work happen. Opening the door that insulated the front of the shop to the back.

When he did, the first thing that greeted Zephyr was a rush of air followed by a wave of heat. The workshop room was full of metalsmiths each working away at their own individual forges, anvils, and projects. Nearly all of which were dragons, but there were a few of them who weren’t: gryphons, diamond dogs, and even a kiren were among their numbers.They all worked studiously, efficiently, and paid little attention to their surroundings. For example one was focused on crafting a small silver sculpture of a knight, another was working on inscribing a carving into a bronze knife, and the next was creating a set of iron armlets. And nearly all of them had a hearth, an anvil, the tools appropriate to their craft, a set of metal ingots next to their feet, and a table full of finished goods.

Wanting to see the work being done Zephyr got closer to one of them, the knife maker. Someone that was around Zephyr’s height if only more muscled with a broader build. But as he got closer he noticed something about the knife maker was off..Not only were the craftsman's eyes glazed with a gray hue, but their motions were stiff and robotic. Enough flex and give to slowly shape the knife through the swing of a hammer, but nothing more than that. It was as if they were dead to the world.

Tap, tap, came the sound from the small hammer that the knife maker wielded as they slowly shaped the knife that they had. Zephyr watched for a moment as they worked.

Tap, tap, tap, continued the knife maker as by bit the edge slowly came into shape. And all the while they neither paused to breath, fidget, or even move from their work.

Zephyr poked the man’s side out of curiosity. Because at the moment it felt like more watching a machine work than a man, but he got no response from the knife maker.

Tap, tap, tap, continued the rhythmic hammering of the knife makers as they pounded away. They stopped for a moment to inspect it as the knife they worked on slowly cooled down.

“Uhm, sir, you alrig-” Zephyr tried to speak to the knifemaker, but was interrupted as the smith held the knife they worked on in front of them and blew a stream of red hot fire onto it, the direction of which was in Zephyr’s direction. A quick sidestep saved Zephyr from being blasted right in the face with dragonfire, but not fast enough to not feel the heat on his skin or clothes as hot embers touched them.

“Gah!” he yelled out as his clothes caught fire. “Really man, really?!”

The smith for his part refused to respond. Instead hammering away at the knife like it was the only thing they knew much less cared about it.

“Alright, guess I'm not getting anything out of that,” Zephyr muttered to himself as he patted out some flames on his clothes before looking around the room. “What now?”

Looking around him he could see the same scene that he had just encountered unfold all around the workshops hall. Smiths robotically worked at their post, heating their projects with the fire that they had within them, and only putting it in a hearth when they were finished. Those who weren’t dragons simply held them up to a nearby open pipe that was connecting to the hearth to heat them before they continued on.

An inspection of the hearth that the smiths had yielded something Zephyr had never seen before. Because none of the hearts had charcoal or coal inside of them. Instead they simply had a pile of lime and coke that were heated by a series of hot air pipes.

And where did these pipes connect to or get their heat from? He didn’t know. The only thing he could suspect was that whatever they were fueled by was hot enough to heat metal and that they were seemingly ceaseless and inconspicuous. Because recalling his memory he didn’t spot a cellar or the like that could lead to a boiler room.

Well I guess I guess that’s the end of that, not sure what else to do here to be honest, Zephyr thought to himself as he watched the scene play out in front of him. Smiths would work on their project, they would heat it either through one of the nearby pipes or through their breaths, they would continue, and when they would finish they would simply place it in the hearth or they would put it on the table beside them. Only stopping to fetch another set of ingots from the pile next to them to continue.

Might as well make my way out while I still ca- Zephyr’s thoughts were cut off as he could feel someone grabbing him by the torso. Someone whose hands were so large that they could treat him like a little doll, an elder dragon. The few dragons that had lived to be older than mountains with the size to match, and this one was no exception to the rule. Because if an outsider were to look at the dragon that now held Zephyr they could probably match it up to around thirty feet tall.

But still somehow they managed to fit in the space that Zephyr was within, and like before the strange feeling that he had from before not only came back but intensified. With the very space that was within the metalsmiths workshop stretching and changing itself to accommodate for both at the same time. One in which the dragon could be seen as the size of a man for one second and in the next become a giant. The effects of which coupled with the act of being treated like a doll left Zephyr utterly stupefied and disoriented. .

He could do nothing but watch as the elder dragon simply looked at him with the same glazed look that its fellow craftsmen held with an eye that was bigger than his chest. Back and forth, back and forth, the elder dragon turned Zephyr around looking for something with the expert eye of a jeweler until it stopped when Zephyr was on his back Until finally with a delicate touch, it plucked three feathers from Zephyr’s back before it dropped him without ceremony..

Zephyr on his part grimaced as he quickly unfurled his wings with a snap and slowly glided down to the ground to save himself from breaking his legs on impact. All the while ignoring the feeling that permeated throughout them as though they were as stiff as wood and heavy as pitch and tar.

By the time he had arrived on the ground and looked back he noticed that the dragon had already left. Already mumbling to themselves about something in a language that he couldn't tell, but to which he could identify one thing. Whatever they were saying was something that could be compared to a breath of relief. Like someone who's been holding their breath for ages and could now let it go and breathe.

Zephyr for his part didn’t stick around to see what they would make from it, as within a few moments he was already collecting everything he had and was running out the door. He didn’t want to get his wings plucked more than they were already, and only he stopped for a moment when he heard a voice behind him speak, “they’ve always been like that.

“Huh?” Zephyr blurted out, stopping in his tracks, turning around, and seeing the man who was manning the counter staring at him with hollow eyes. They looked more like a mannequin now standing behind the counter than a living man.

“They’ve always been like that,” the man repeated in a language that Zephyr knew wasn’t Equestrian, but was certainly something that he could understand. “I don’t know why they act like that, but as far as I know they’ve always been like that day in and day out. From the moment I swap out for whoever was taking the night shift to the moment I leave, they are always working and never stopping.”

Zephyr only stared at the man in sheer befuddlement.

“It isn’t limited to dragons either,” the attendant numbly continued. “Ponies, gryphons, diamond dogs, kirens, and the many variants of humanity that are in our world aren’t immune to whatever is going on with them. The few apprentices that they have that aren’t dragons act just like the rest. Probably worse as I've had to drag a few of them out to and to a nearby hospital when they collapsed on the ground.”

“But why?” Zephyr found himself saying. “Why would they do that to themselves?”

“ For perfection and The Magnum Opus. When they reach into the depths of whatever they are in, the only thing that matters to them is perfection and their magnum Opus,” the attendant robotically answered. “To them nothing else matters, not even their lives.”

Holding out a shaky finger they gestured towards the door that was now closed. “I advise you to leave this place while you still can,” they said,” before you get turned into someone’s next…masterpiece.”

Zephyr only gave a hesitant nod before he did, numbly staggering out the door and into the streets of the northern ports. The attendant for his part continued to stare back out and into the streets. Still standing, still unmoving, and he swore not even blinking the entire time that he had been there.

What the hell just happened there? Zephyr asked himself as he sat on a bench an hour later. Was it magic? A supernatural effect? Some type of curse or a disease? Something was certainly going on in there, but to what effect and why he didn’t know.

You know what better not to ask questions like that, at least not now , Zephyr thought to himself as he shook his head to recollect himself before he brought out the travel guide he had and looked through it. Let’s go to another place, something more sane for once.

The decision after some time of flipping through it was a scrimshawers shop. A shop that the book explained sold the carved or engraved remains of dead animals for sale, had stood for over a hundred years, and had an attendant that could speak Zephyr’s language. The book even provided a set of sketches in the form of a set of bone earrings made from the remains of a local sea monster. All the while helpfully providing the general directions on how to find it. The only thing that the book didn’t explain was that the shop wasn’t just limited to dead animals.

“I uhm,” Zephyr stuttered out as he stood outside of it and stared at the human remains on display outside of the store. “That’s new.”

Bones, teeth, horns and a variety of wares were on display through the shop's display window and cabinets. With each piece that was on display within the store being Intricately carved and decorated to suit it’s subject; whether it was a weathered Abyssinian skull that had flowing patterns of ribbons and flowers set into it, the horn of a Kirin that had the colored depiction of a Nirek set into it, or the teeth of a dragon with the stylized depiction of a knight. They were fit museum pieces that could belong in an art gallery if not for the macabre material that they made out of it.

Or I guess more, Zephyr thought to himself as he walked through the door, maybe more to be honest. Art collectors are always looking for what’s fresh and weird these days.

And walking through the open display cabinet Zephyr saw the assistant that the travel book advertised. He was a gryphon, well built and heavily muscled with open sleeves covered in scars, wearing eyeglasses with a thin iron frame, and only one wing on their back, their left wing. They were currently polishing a necklace in their hands with a rag behind the counter when Zephyr went through the door.

“Uhm hello?” Zephyr greeted the assistant with a hesitant smile as he made his way through. “Uhh nice display you’ve got there, “

“Thank you,” the gryphon replied in Equestrian as they resumed polishing the item that they held in their hands.

A beat of silence ensued between the two with Zephyr awkwardly looking at the gryphon as they continued working and the gryphon more than content to do their work than chitchat. During which Zephyr mentally berated himself for not coming up with a plan of what to do when he arrived. He came in, he wasn’t chased out, and now what? Look around?

He did, there wasn’t much that interested him after a quick look through of the place. Just skulls, bones, necklaces, knives, and more each decorated with what he would admit to be lovingly made patterns. Whatever hands that made it were skilled, he had no doubt of that, but even with their unique patterns and material nothing seemed to interest him. At least not nothing that he would be willing to buy, Too macabre for something like him and he had a feeling that his sister or his parents would freak out if they saw him wearing cufflinks made of someone's teeth.

Eh maybe not flutter’s, he thought to himself as he remembered that she dabbled in taxidermy once or twice in the past. She might appreciate it, I dunno.

So Zephyr just watched the gryphon work as they continued polishing the necklace that they had in their hands. The necklace itself was quite simple, it was just the tooth of what Zephyr could guess to be some sort of shark that had one of its surfaces polished smooth and then the image of a castle on it. All the while the gryphon themselves didn’t seem to mind as they simply turned the necklace up and down in their hands as they took a rag and idly polished it.

Another awkward beat ensued between the two and some time passed as Zephyr watched and the Gryphon polished. During which someone came in, saw what was happening and quickly left just as they came with. The two nonetheless continued on, the gryphon working, and Zephyr watching, and it wasn’t until they finished that they looked up.

“Do you need something?” the gryphon asked, breaking the silence as they finished polishing the knife that they had in their hands. “You’ve been staring at me working for about five minutes now.”

“Oh uhm, yeah,” Zephyr said, somewhat startled. “I was just wondering if you can help me look at some things and answer some questions? I just arrived here and I was wondering if you can help me understand what this store is about.”

“Yes, I suppose I can do that, “ the gryphon answered with a sigh as they put down the necklace into a small box behind them. “Where would you want to start?”

“Well anywhere to be honest,” Zephyr said with an awkward smile as he looked around at the wares that were on display. “I don’t really know what’s going on in this store so some help would be appreciated.”

The gryphon merely nodded as they moved from behind the counter that they worked to the middle of the store and from there to a scrimshawed femur. It held the inked depiction of a knight in heavy armor slaughtering their way through an entire regiment in gory detail. All the while a squadron of his allies followed closely behind him waving a banner.

“Well, I suppose to start off this explanation off, do you know what scrimshaw is?” the gryphon asked Zephyr with a raised eyebrow.

“Sort of?” Zephyr said as he scratched the back of his head and followed the gryphon to the femur. “I’ve heard of it before, at least when I was back in college. Something about people carving designs on pieces of bone?”

“You’ve got it more or less,” the gryphon said with a nod. “Hunters or bone pickers would go through the remains of animals and carve designs onto it. With The Isles’s inhabitants doing so because of the ability to use their scales and in turn the creatures here.”

“However,” the gryphon said, turning on a dime and looking at Zephyr. “What I’ve said pertains to dead animals, this for example,” he said waving a hand over the femur. “Is the remains of a dead person. Something like this isn’t exactly so I want to ask you a question before I go any further. Why would a dragon do such a thing?”

“To humiliate them I guess?” Zephyr answered with a shrug as he quickly looked at the femur. “Seems like something someone would do to their enemy.

“You’ve got it half right,” the gryphon said with a nod. “In the past, dragons that had killed their enemies would pillage their remains and turn them into totems. Totems that would depict the victor triumphing over their enemies while humiliating them.”

“However this is not always the case,” the gryphon continued, pointing to the femur. “Instead some bones are taken from their enemies upon their defeat and totems are made from their remains in veneration. This bone for instance belonged to a proud gryphonian knight that existed several hundred years ago. One who had dared to hunt an elder dragon that plagued his homeland. A dragon who was said to be invincible, peerless, and as old as the mountains themselves. With his lance in hand he set out to slay it.”

“Did he win?” Zephyr asked him out of curiosity, interrupting the gryphon.

“No,” the gryphon answered with his eyes downcast for a moment. “He lost. He died with his body torn in two, his armor turned to slag, and his flesh gray and withered from exsanguination. A terrible death if I recall that left him screaming in pain as he died.”

“However,” the gryphon said, raising a finger. “The blows that he had inflicted upon his enemy earned him respect, for through their acts they showed to the world and to his foe that they were not invincible, and that they were as mortal as everyone else.”

“For that, they earned him the respect of the dragon’s rivals, who plundered the knight's remains upon the place they died and carved the designs that you see now onto it,” the gryphon finished with a wistful smile as he gestured to the femur.

“It’s beautiful, don't you think?” he said to Zephyr as his eyes looked at it with lust and envy. “Honestly I wouldn't mind the same thing being done to my remains when I'm gone. It would beat being burned in the ground and left to rot.”

“It’s uh…it’s something to say the least,” Zephyr hesitantly replied with an unsure look on his face as he looked at it. It was good looking, well done, and one of a kind. But to call it beautiful and to wish the same fate to be done to one’s own bones when they died? That part he was unsure about. It took a certain kind of person to look at the femur of a man, one who Zephyr could guess died in agony, and to call it not only beautiful, but to wish that same fate upon themselves.

“So uhm, is this more or less the pattern for all of these things?” Zephyr asked as he waved a hand around the empty shop and wanted to change the subject. “You guys get a dead person with a story you like, you carve a design into it, and you sell it for cash?

“The ones that are from people I suppose,” the gryphon answered with a shrug. We try to avoid creating inscriptions that humiliate the dead within this shop. Especially with the clients that we have that donate their remains to us.”

“D-donated?” Zephyr blurted out both surprises and puzzles. “People donate themselves to this shop?”

“Oh yes,” the gryphon said with a toothy and yellowed smile. “We don’t get them often but we get them enough. I assure you that there are more than a few people in this world who would prefer to be turned into art rather than be buried in a plot of land forever.”

“I uhm…really?” Zephyr said in disbelief as he looked at the femur again. “I mean the idea is nice i uh…guess, but who would want to wear something like that constantly with them you know?”

“Well, why do people wear lockets with pictures of their family? Why do people pass down necklaces and earrings that their ancestors wore to one another with the expectation that they should wear them?” the gryphon asked Zephyr before he provided them with an answer. “To remember them of course. What you see before you is merely one way of doing that, except this I suppose is a more direct method than others.”

Zephyr merely hummed in response as he looked at the store around him as a quiet between the two settled. Did people really wear necklaces, rings, earrings, armbands, and more with the bones of their family on them?

It was a strange thought, but it was one that he could see working in the right circumstances. He knew people ate different food, wore different clothing, and buried each other differently, so in theory it could make sense in a culture that supported it. Venerate your mother and father by having their remains carved into artistic pieces that you could hang around in your home. That or,...in this circumstance wear them with you in your day to day life.

But still…would they do this? It was a strange thought and in turn one that irked him. Who was the first one to start it? Why did it catch on? Were there any alternatives?

Well only one way to find out, Zephyr thought to himself as he turned towards the assistant. “Do you know who started this and is this the only way that people venerate the dead?”

“I don’t know the first, but I do know the second,” the assistant answered as they took a moment to stretch. “This isn’t the only way people venerate the dead within The Isles, mummification and cremation happens as well. Some families take the dead and cremate them at hot springs where the ground is hot enough to melt flesh and render them into dust and ash. While others simply preserve them in a skeletal form, dress them up in the outfits that they used to wear, and have them around.”

“But nothing along the lines of burying someone?” Zephyr asked.

“As far as i’m aware…no,” the gryphon answered Zephyr. “Dragon’s aren’t exactly..apt for burials.”

“Why not?” Zephyr asked him.

“Well burying a twenty foot tall giant is kind of hard wouldn't you agree?”,” the gryphon answered him before snorting a bit in suppressed laughter

“Heh, I guess,” Zephyr said in reply at the mental image of trying to bury someone that was the size of a large hill, “that would be kind of hard.”

“So where did you learn all of this stuff anyway,” Zephyr asked him as he looked around the place. “You've been living with the dragons for a while?”

“No, I got here about a year ago and since then I've mostly been a recluse,” the gryphon answered him. “

"So how did you learn about it?” Zephyr pressed him as he took a moment to stretch. “You read about it in a book?”

“Yeah…you can say that,” the gryphon said with a nod. “I read most of what I know now on a treatise that a…mhm,” he hesitated for a moment before continuing with, “a librarian had?”

“A librarian huh?” Zephyr said playfully, raising an eyebrow. “Do they have a castle filled with books and lore stretching back to millenia?”

“More just an old hoard I suppose,” the gryphon answered with a shrug. “I can tell you their location if you want to know.”

Zephyr acknowledged with a nod beginning the gryphons instructions.

“They don’t live near any of the villages, towns, or cities so you're going to have to walk there,” the gryphon began. “There's a train that leads from this port to the mountain so get on it and get out when it stops at one of the villages. Once there, head south east to the village’s outskirts and into the wilderness. Continue on until you find your way to a large white tree and a trail should be there that if I remember leads you to their hoard.”

“Right, right,” Zephyr said as he tried to commit what the assistant said to memory, and after nearly forgetting what the assistant said when an errant thought settled into his head, he settled for simply scribbling it down in his travel guide.

“So you’ve been there before?” Zephyr asked as he reread what he had written to himself for a moment.

“Once and it was to get that treatise I told you about on the instructions from my employer,” the assistant answered, holding a hand to their chin in contemplative thought. “I haven’t been there since I got the book and returned it so I don't know if anything has changed since then.”

“I see well at the very least that’ll give me something to do while I’m here,” Zephyr said with a smile as he turned towards the gryphon. Thank you for the information sir…” he drawled on for a moment waiting for an answer.

“Stonetalon,” he answered with a roll of their eyes as they made their way to the door and opened it. “It’s Stonetalon if you're wondering. The next train leaves in about 4 hours from now I believe somewhere around noon. Now get out of here. I still have work to do.”

Zephyr left with a simple nod waving goodbye to StoneTalon as they gave a hesitant one in return as he left through the shop door and into the streets.

What to do, what to do, Zephyr thought to himself as he sat on his briefcase with his nose back in the travel guide. The next train was due to leave in about 4 hours from now. Four hours that he knew if he didn’t have something to do he was going to spend just staring off into space as he waited for the train station to arrive.

There had to be something that he could do to pass the time. Sure he could take a nap as a way to pass the time away, but he didn’t feel tired yet. And the idea of staring off into space like he usually did as an alternative just didn’t feel attractive to him for now.

Shame there isn’t much to do here though. Just grocery stores, ports, clothes, and most of the things that I can expect anywhere, he thought to himself as he idly scratched his leg and looked through the book again.

“Hmph well at the very least this looks like an option for now,” he said to himself as he passed through a page before stopping at it. The description of the book had listed a fish market that sold the many products of The Isle’s fish industry. From whales to monstrous clams, sharks, ordinary mussels, octopus’s, giant squids, and more. Thanks to The isle’s unique ecosystem and location it was a varied home to wildlife that could be seldom anywhere else except for Mt. Aris.

“Well that seems like an option,” he hummed to himself with a smile as he noted down the directions before getting up and making his way towards it. “Never seen a whale filet before for sale, especially if what this book says you could buy them on the cheap here.”

The smell of sweat, roasted nuts, heat, sugar, salt, and rotting fish wafted into Zephyr’s nose as he made his way through the fish market market. It wasn’t big by any means, at least not for someone that was twice the height of an average normal man, and neither was it special in for the activities that it had within it for an ordinary denizen of The Isles. People went in, they shopped, they bought fish, they bought snacks from the sweet stalls set up in the opening parts, and then they went on their way. It was a bit of a boring place on the surface to passersby.

But it made up for it entirely to Zephyr through its mere inhabitants. Because in this place both dragons and the variants of humanity talked and walked side by side. With each one deeply contrasting one another. Because at one moment you could see an ordinary sized man carry around a bag of eels while at another you could see a dragon, one that was only twice the size of that eel carrier, happily carrying on their back a bag full of sugary sweets.

And that wasn’t the only part of it as well. Because if one looked at the draconic denise's for a moment then they could identify a neat and separate identity between them both. One that wore what could be presumed to be the native outfit of The Isles and the other in a more modernistic outfit.

Those that wore more modern outfits were often those that were the youngest, or working behind a counter. With those wearing the more modern style favoring button up or collared shirts, slacks, leather shoes, and often casual formal wear behind the aprons they wore. Plain and dutiful colors, grays and blues, blacks, and whites were the colors favored by them. In the end the outfit those that wore the modern style was simple and utilitarian, one that reflected the status that they were in as they adapted to the modern world around them.

As for those that weren’t, they wore what Zephy presumed a dragon would have worn on their day to day life before they opened themselves up to the world. That being cloth pants or skirts, billowing shirts or vests, and often wearing hobnailed leather sandals or going entirely barefoot. The clothing was simple, it was rugged, and it fit the place of The Isles tropical volcanic climate. Allowing anyone that looked upon them to see the colorful scales that they had on their bodies.

However while the designs of The Isle’s native garb may have been simple, they were anything but when one went into decoration or material. Because intricate patterns made from vibrant colors or gilded thread were woven into it. Not enough to seem ostentatious or even gaudy, but just enough to ensure that whoever saw them would see what they wore as unique.

And, regardless of whether they were modern clothes or not, nearly every dragon wore jewelry: necklaces, bracelets, earrings, amulets, and especially horn decorations were worn by all. Some were made out of precious metals but most were made out of simple industrial ones like copper or polished bronze. A few horn decorations were even made out of bone, with those very ones almost always featuring intricate carvings upon them. Each having been carved and engraved with care to hold the depiction of some wyrm, event, figure, fish or creature that he had never seen before.

I wonder if the outfits they wore will fully change into a mix or if it wil-by Tartarus what is that thing,” Zephyr thought to himself as he watched the crowd before him shuffle and move before he was interrupted by the sight of what he could only describe to be a monster carried by a dragon on their back.

It was large with it being about the size of a small child, pock marked and scarred with the same ones a veteran of war might have, and it had great chitinous growth’s jutting from it’s scales intertwined with a sort of phantasm-like thread that made up it’s whiskers. And what was was that somehow the creature still breathed somehow; rasping and coughing as they strained for breath in its newly poisonous environment. All the while curious eyes looked at the world in a mixture of fascination and horror, utterly unable to comprehend what it saw, but knowing what was to come for it.

But nobody paid attention to the fish nor its plight, at least nobody that he could see. Everyone was too busy ogling over what was around them, what they had bought, and the snacks they had purchased. It was as if the fish was nothing stranger than someone buying the catch of the day.

He had to find out why, why something like this that would be considered an extraordinary event back in Equestria was entirely ordinary here, so standing on shaking legs and trying not to look at the growths that the fish had he made his way over to the dragon. Someone who was thankfully only a foot or two taller than him.

“Uh, sir, what is that…,” Zephyr nervously stuttered out to the dragon and pointed to the fish they had slung over his back when he made his way over.

In response the dragon only gave him a curious but confused look as Zephyr babbled on; the language barrier between him and the populace of The Isles resulting in their inability to communicate becoming once more apparant.

Right language barrier, Zephyr scolded himself when he noticed the fisherman’s confused and blank look.

“Uhh, right uhh, fish, where, did, you, get, it?” he hesitantly tried slowing his words and emphasizing the fish that the dragon bought in the hopes that they would understand.

Luckily they did. Whether it was from the way Zephyr both looked and tried not to look at the fish, the way he pointed at it, or simply it being a question they had been asked before, the dragon answered Zephyr’s request by merely pointing in a single direction and walked away. Zephyr hoped that they answered their question and followed the direction the dragon pointed and walked deeper into the market.

Following the man’s direction, Zephyr made his way deeper into the market and noticed that the wares of the fish market had seemed to become stranger by the minute. In the opening sections of the markets he remembered that he could see Blue Mackerel, red snappers, mullet, squid, crab, and the more ordinary fish that one could find in Equestria around the world inside. However, after a bit of time walking inside the market the wares changed. Glowing octopuses stood side by side with whole sharks, dolphins, and what he swore to be a fish that was described as a living fossil by a book he read once, one that was said to have been extinct. It didn’t take Zephyr long to find the shop that he wanted.

It was a menagerie of the weird and the unusual all wrapped in a half-hearted capitalistic gesture to get someone to buy what was inside. In the stall one could see eel’s still dripping with acidic ooze and half-digesting themselves in the process curled up in large glass jars, large crabs that were taller than men and whose shells were made of a mixture of ceramic and iron that were covered in strange runes, and fish with scales almost like glass that still emanate sparks of magical energy. All the while in the center stood the corpse of a sunfish that served as a cover, one whose body was covered in chunks of ice.

The owner of the fish stall meanwhile was a dour and half awake sailor sitting on a pile of scrap and smoking from a pipe. He was dressed in a rubberized coverall with a thin gray shirt and gloves and he stank of oil and blood. Wrapped around his neck was a small pendant carved entirely out of magical crystal that softly glowed in a purplish hue.

When Zephyr came to his stall, the fisherman lethargically pointed to his remaining stock before he went back smoking. All the while puffing small fragrant puffs of off-colored smoke from his pipe and that which smelled like flowers mixed with the clean ocean sea.

With a nod to the man Zephyr took a look through the stall, eventually finding himself being drawn to a small creature about the size of his hand that was in a saltwater tank. It smiled in the way that a child could, even if fish could not smile, as it swam eagerly around the tank that it was in. The scales that the fish had were iridescent, its head was almost cleaved in half showcasing its innards to the world and revealing a set of large binocular-like eyes beneath a thin membrane that were too human to tell apart from an animal.

What a weird little thing, you never see this back home, he thought to himself as he lightly tapped on the glass, earning him an annoyed glance from the fish as he did so. However before he could ruminate on the fish any longer, Zephyr heard the sound of smell bell coming from the fisherman, and at once the fish simply swam out of its tank and into the open air as if it had never left the ocean, its form becoming shrouded in an ethereal glow all the while. Swimming to the fisherman’s side when it was lightly petted by the man as it burbled happily, and from there it swam its way back into the tank before reentering it just as if it had never left it.

And in reaction to it Zephyr simply stood in awe at the display .He’d seen magical illusion’s more times than he could count in his life, but he’d never seen it done by a fish, and a magical one at that. Recovering quickly, he congratulated the display with a, “uhm, thank you!” to the fisherman with a few claps of his hand. The fisherman in response nodded to him with a smile before he went back to smoking from his pipe.

I wonder where that thing comes from, Zephyr asked himself when he went back to looking at the fish that were on display within the stall. as he tried to recall his failed anthropology lessons in the past for an explanation. Biology? Mutation? Maybe something with the climate? You don't exactly see these kinds of fish anywhere else in the world so why are they here and why?

He looked around for a second and saw a dragon that was twice his height casually dragging a shark on a board. A shark that he noted seemed to resemble an eel as it still caused sparks of lightning arc harmlessly off of the dragon's open back.

Probably something in the water to be honest, Zephyr concluded as he took another look at the stall in front of him noting its wares before nodding to himself. Dunno what though, maybe crystals as they said to have a mutagenic effect or something? If I recall there was a study not that long back where The Isles had a bunch of volcanic vents spewing gem dust everywhere around it coupled with some deposits near their reefs. Maybe that would explain it?

He racked his brain for a bit more before he let out a sigh as he couldn't remember anything in specific or truly concrete. Everything past his last thought simply became a blur of nonsense to him due to his lack of diligence in the class. Well, whatever, he thought to himself as he looked around his suitcase and grabbed it. It’s not like I'll be answering a question like that anyway by myself. I’m just a failed college student.

“Well…moving on I guess,” he hummed to himself as he fished out his compass and turned the sundial over. “I think I've spent enough time here that I should start heading back anyway. Hopefully I can get back before they start collecting passenger>’

Nodding to himself Zephyr produced the travel guide that he had acquired from Ms. Coffin and consulted it before making his way over towards it.

The journey there was relatively uneventful but fruitful. Nobody bothered him, nobody accosted him, and apart from some mention about a boat sinking nothing really happened. Things were peaceful.

When Zephyr arrived at the train station the first thing that he noticed was that the train station itself seemed makeshift. Once a partial moving area for an elder dragon’s hoard, it had been since converted into a train station by the order of The Dragon lord. The companions for which included a twin factories, a few warehouses to house goods along with coal, and a set of railroad lines.

Nonetheless the place itself was treated with a set of reverence and almost awe by the denizens of The Isles. As signs and banners proudly directed nearby to marvel at the technological wonder that was within their state. The support staff that were within the building were helpful, with the few that were around being multilingual and happily taking any questions or requests that they were able to such as why was this place built, what was a train, what was it for, where was the bathroom, and stating that elder dragons and those that were thrice the height of a normal person were prohibited from riding the train.

But still, even with all of the pomp and circumstance and the odd reverence towards the train, it did little to detract anyone remotely familiar to the actual state of the machines within.

By the sun, how old is that thing? was the first thought that entered Zephyr’s head when he saw the train. It was an iron behemoth whose age clearly showed in its design. The locomotives pilot was made from painted wood rather than steel, its chimney was larger than any other trains Zephyr had ever seen in his life to the point that it resembled a chimney, it’s cabin was made entirely out of wood, and an all too nervous gryphon engineman stood in it nervously muttering a prayer as the train prepared itself for another run.

Is the train imported? Yeah, it has to be, I don’t think anyone even knows how to make stuff like that anymore, Zephyr mused to himself as looked at the brass and paint decoration on the locomotives and cars chained to the locomotive. Maybe some factory in Equestria sold it to them in exchange for crystals? No, I don’t even think any of the museum piece’s i've seen before have had stuff that was this old. Seller has to be somewhere in the east that’s for sure.

Turning his attention to the station itself, Zephyr watched the crew at work as they escorted passengers on and off the cars. A few of them were dressed in a royal blue uniform that was prim and proper and reminded him of Equestrai, but most of them were dressed in varying colors such as reds and greens, to grays and black. The only distinguishing mark between them all was a badge that had on it a train and the sense of authority that they had on them.

All the while the uniforms themselves varied in quality as they did in colors; someone whose uniform looked like it was machine made yesterday worked side by side someone who sewed their own uniform by themselves in the dead of night with rags, and one who merely arranged a jacket and a set of trousers in the local colors. Rich, poor, experienced, inexperienced, kiren, zebra hippogriff, and more worked with one other side by side in their appointed duties. Between the strange awe that their passenger’s had coupled with the pressure of their duties there was simply no time for anything else.

Ms. Coffin’s work? Zephyr thought to himself as he was escorted by a staff member inside to a railroad car. Maybe, that or it’s that weird law she told me about earlier.

Looking around before he entered inside he spotted larger dragons, those that were twice the size of a normal man or more, being escorted into open toppeds boxcars near the end of the train that had rough metal benches welded inside. And while the boxcar was just as rough and makeshift as the train station was, it was still happily boarded by its passengers without much complaint. All of whom eagerly talked amongst themselves in a language that Zephyr could not understand.

When he arrived inside Zephyr sat in the closest seat that he could find, one that was in the center, and took a seat on the padded chair before he looked around.

The cabin itself, although maintained by its staff with the cabin being perfumed, the food stains being scrubbed out, and any litter being thrown out was still a mess. All around him Zephyr could spot cigarette burns on the wood around him, smoke stains on the cabin roof, and the padding on the chair being so thin he swore he could feel the maker's mark from the factory on what year the chair was made.

And the passengers weren’t any better in terms. The moment that the door closed the cabin erupted into a cacophony of noise as they talked to one another, argued, shared smuggled drinks, and did all of the normal things that one could expect the passenger’s within a public train to do. Which in Zephyr’s case meant that he was having to listen to a married couple that was seated in front of him argue about something that he couldn't understand. All the while their child, a boy about the age of five, watched in a mixture of horror and awe as their parents were only one moment away from killing each other.

“Just like home,” Zephyr muttered to himself as he settled in his seat and began to wait for the train to start moving. “Just like home, except this time nobody’s trying to drag me out of the train and into a recruiting station for not being enlisted. Hmph, just like a home.”

Within minutes the train slowly began to move, making its way out of the train station. Looking outside once the train had left Zephyr could spot the rolling green hills of the surrounding area filled with thick woodlands, the minor puffs of ash erupting from the many volcanoes in The Isles, the distant silhouettes of dragons both large and small flying their way around, and in turn The Mountain, the capital of The Isles.

With luck the next stop will be as eventful as the first, Zephyr thought to himself as he settled in for the wait. Hopefully.

Author's Note:

For just a little bit of information Zephyr has been through so many college classes, trade schools, and entry level jobs or positions that he's entirely lost count on how many he's done before or gone through. Because of that he has an idea for how a lot of things work, can probably rattle off an answer to most basic level questions he's asked, but never explain or really understand why that answer is the answer.
Otherwise he's smart, but he's lazy, a bit ignorant and naive, more than a bit self-loathing, and easily distracted while having a fear of failure on a level comparable to his sister at her worst. Something that isn't helped by the social mask that he wears that allows him to ignore his flaws and regrets or mistakes while believing his invincible. All of which culminates in him doing the same mistakes and things over and over again with no real sign of improvement whatsoever.
Hopefully that explains a little bit on him just in case. Anyway, the story continues!