//------------------------------//
// Chapter Five: The Mountain and Board games 
// Story: The "Tourist" 
// by Monochrome-1 
//------------------------------//

One step became two, two became four, four became eight, and so on and so forth until Zephyr found himself standing not at the train station, but inside of it. With the day having already passed into the late afternoon. 
Yeah, okay, this is going to be a recurring thing isn’t it, Zephyr thought to himself as he lounged against the chair that he was in and watched the mountain slowly coming into view. Great, just great.
	Once more recalling his memories from the moment that he began to make his way back: he could remember walking out of the cave, following the trail, getting to the tree, and more, but  something was off about them again. They felt spotty as if he could only remember a second or two of the experience and merely thinking about them made his head feel weird. Like as if he was drunk or didn’t have that much sleep. The more he thought about it the more it felt like something about it was trying to get him not, like an upturned magnet meeting another. 
And stranger still was his overall disposition towards what had happened. He knew that what had happened was weird and even concerning, but he didn’t feel like panicking, getting help, or even doing much about it. Instead he just felt merely annoyed by it. 
“Well,” he muttered to himself as he looked out the window and saw The Mountain, the capital of The Isles, slowly come into view, “at the very least it seems to be useful for now.” 
The rest of the time there was uneventful and short. The train only had an odd 10 minutes left and in time it eventually stopped and disembarked. With the first thing that greeted Zephyr when he got out of the train and into its station was the cool rush of air conditioned air.
Looking around  he noticed the train station was built entirely indoors, it featured a polish stone floor, a mosaic depiction of The Isles on the ground, and various decorations of murals, flags, sculptures, and more. And looking at them it reminded Zephyr of the many train stations back home, the big ones that would often load tens of trains a day. The only difference with one had was that the number of its passenger’s and trains paled in comparison to its western cousins. With this one having no more than a few hundred people around and only a few trains to accommodate them. Those of which he noted were just as old and worn as the ones back near the port.  
But just like before the people still oddly revered the trains that were inside. Keeping them in prime condition, giving them new paint, and making sure that they were clean of rust. Something to which Zephyr noted to himself while it did give a new look to the trains didn’t ease the nervousness of its crews. With one engineer in particular having to be dragged into his station by a crew of assistants.
 
Hmph, well that’s something, Zephyr thought to himself as he grabbed a brochure that was being handed out by attended and put it away for later before looking around a bit more as a nostalgic smile crawled across his face. 
Home sweet home as they say, he thought to himself as he walked through the train station and surveyed around. Reminds me of Cloudsdale before the uhh…you know. People walking around, attendedents helping them, air conditioning, and oh great not this again, he finished his thoughts as he came across the one thing he loathed back home during the early days of the war, and one whose ability to pop up in his life seemed almost magical.
Posters, why does it always have to be propaganda posters, Zephyr dismally thought to himself as he looked at a pillar filled with three posters. Guess you can’t escape the beat of the war drum no matter how much I run. 
The first poster depicted a ship coming across the sea and on which he spotted various creatures of all kinds coming to it with their heads held high and a smile on their face: Gryphons, Zebra’s, Hippogriffs, Thestrals, and more. All the while a set of bold writing was on the bottom, the language of which Zephyr couldn't read.
Looking closer at it one thing that Zephyr found peculiar about the poster was not what was on the ship: vehicles, tools, cars, planes, machines, and the items of modern industry, but what was not such as bombs, tanks, guns, or uniforms. Something of which he knew was vital for any war effort. 
“Huh, never seen that before,” he mumbled to himself as he continued to look at the other ones, his distaste for them fading away into novel interest. “
The second poster featured a variety of workers inside a factory  laboring at their stations with the aid of nearby machines to produce a variety of goods. The variety of which Zephyr couldn't tell the specifics of, but he could at least make a guess. That being things such as: tools, toys, and parts. All of which was highlighted by what Zephyr could guess to be some sort of slogan or catchphrase that expounded on the workers craft. The art style for the poster was simple, it was clean, and it featured a vibrant look to it. One that was deeply contrasted by the last one. 
Because that one garsh, stylized, and caricatured. WIth a set of dragons each wearing both a factory workers uniform along with a business one shunning what seemed to be a more primitive looking duo. The latter of which was dressed in a satirical garb that deeply contested the one that he saw earlier. For example the vests that the shunned duo wore almost seemed like robes, they looked scrawny and weak compared to the modern duo, and they shied away with hateful yet envious eyes. All the while another set of slogans on the bottom of the poster pridefully proclaimed some sort of message. The meaning of which Zephyr couldn't read, but he could guess to be a message of rejecting the old and embracing the new. 
Strange, Zephyr thought to himself as he finished looking at the posters, the feeling of discontent having faded away into a novel interest. I’ve never seen these kinds of posters before. These ones seem to scream for modernization. Why would they want that now? The Isles never exactly struck me as a place that seems to want factories and trains? Didn't they throw out a factory ambassador a few decades ago? 
He tried to recall the memory of it, and while he couldn't remember a lot, he could remember a few things. Most notable of which was the hospital bill that the poor industrial envoy received when they were thrown out a window. The effect of which he noted was the unofficial proclamation of The Isles being a no-go zone for foreign manufacturing. 
“Yeah they aren’t exactly pro-industrialists,” he mumbled to himself as he looked around. “I don't see why they would start now.” 
“Unless,” he continued to mumble to himself for a minute as he looked at the train and remembered the wording of the book that he had. “Unless they know something is coming, something big.” 
With a haunted look he looked around for a moment and remembered a fact of which he nearly forgot. Because nations tended to modernize and industrialize themselves in the build up to a war, especially if they knew they would be invaded in time. 
“Well…uhm that’s something to remember, “he said to himself as he looked around for a moment before making his way out of the train station. “I should be going now.” 
Fumbling for a minute on a destination he pulled out the brochure that he had and noted its purpose as an advertisement for a hotel. One that was newly built, furnished, specced to modern international standards, and welcomed any foreign travelers or tourists to come inside to stay. 
“M-m-maybe I should head there for a bit, “he said to himself as he noted the direction and began to follow it. “I’m not tired yet, but it’ll give me something to do and uh…uhm.”
He cast a nervous look behind him as he saw a crew of soldiers boarding. All of whom he noted were carrying rifles and swords.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said to himself as he walked away and into The Mountain’s streets, “it’ll give me something to do. “ 

With time eventually Zephyr calmed down, the recent revelation he had dying away, and it he was able to get a look around The Mountain’s streets. Quickly noticing the constant stream of traffic not only in terms of people, but in building supplies as well: machinery, wood, steel, bricks, and gems, lots of gems; enough gems that as he watched a open top wagon pulled by a giant of a man that was over ten feet tall a small pebble fell from the wagonload and nobody paid attention to it. Back home each and every single pebble of magical crystal was accounted for, but here it was treated as nothing more than coal.
And all the while as he looked around he could feel the strange feeling that he had when he was in the Artisan’s creep up again. With the very space that was within The Mountain stretching and bending to suit both him and the creatures inside. 
For example the various shops felt odd to look at. One moment they were as tall as any other shop back home, but the next and with a bit of movement from one’s eyes they were as tall as a skyscraper, and more than able to accommodate either a large group of people or a few elder dragons. At one moment he could walk by a butcher that was for regular people, and the next he could walk by a candy store that sold novelty lollipops that were bigger than him.
That wasn’t the only thing as well, because while the buildings inside of The Mountain were tall, they weren’t built tall in the sense of scale for a single dragon.  Most of the buildings in the place weren’t built more than a story or two tall, and instead often featured an underground section. The depths to which he couldn't find out, but a cursory glance revealed them to be as deep as any other mine back home. Were they a hundred feet deep? Two hundred? Five? A thousand? He didn’t know, the more he looked down into those places that were meant for dragons the more his headache grew. Eventually he pulled away from it and continued on. 

Strange place to say the least, Zephyr mused to himself  some time later as he looked down at the brochure and noted the last few directions that were on it. Maybe this could be dragon magic? Well, that is if they can even do magic. What could they do anyway? 
Zephyr thought about it for a minute and he didn’t have an answer. He knew dragons could spew fiery breath at their command and thanks to the librarian he now had an idea of the madness that could affect dragons, one that very much influenced them as a people, but anything other than that Zephyr wasn’t sure about. He knew that Twilight’s assistant could produce a special kind of breath, one that allowed them to transport letters with ease, but he didn’t know that dragons could do anything like that by themselves. That felt more like an anomaly or mutation that was specific to the assistant and nobody else, not some some racial ability that they had. 
 Even the madness part that affected dragons as a species Zephyr was unsure about. Did their emotions, wants, and desires really define them as a people? If so? What was the full extent of it beyond the madness that the dragon in the cave had described?

With that thought Zephyr was reminded of when he was in the artisan’s workshop he saw ordinary people working alongside dragons. Gryphons, ponies, and even a diamond dog working inside the workshop, and they all had the same glazed apathetic look that they had just like everyone else. 
They looked like robots in that place. Tirelessly hammering bars of metal into tools, trinkets, and even the odd weapon without a single thought or outside expression on their bodies or face. The only time that did anything else was to sit down to rest was when they waited for an item to heat up to cool down. Blankly staring ahead at their work as they waited before eventually picking it up with a set of tools and going back to work again.
The thought of it all sent a chill down Zephyr’s spine. How long had those workers been there? How many pieces had they made so far from the moment they signed up? Was it worse for an ordinary person than a dragon? Could they get out of it? Did they sign up for it? Did they want to?  Would they ever find what they wanted to make or to reach whatever goal they desired? If not, how long would they last then?
Zephyr didn’t know, he didn’t know, and he didn’t want to think about it.  Better to flush those idea’s out of his head before it was too late. 
So, taking out his brochure and noting the directions again he found much to his relief that he was nearing the hotel. Only a few more more turns left to go and he would arrive there. 
 
And when he did the first thing that Zephyr noticed was how peculiar the hotel he was advertised was. It wasn’t special in any sort of unusual way that might be seen back home, with it being a simple five story building made from wood, brick, and oddly from stone, but the thing that set it apart was its height.
The Traveller, the name of the hotel, was the only building around that stood as tall as it was, at least in a conventional sense when one took into mind the scale of it . While of course there was a nearby shop that towered above it, that shop was nothing more than a story tall, but the hotel itself was five stories tall, and luckily made for ordinary people. For if it wasn’t, Zephyr guessed that it could probably be as large as The Mare Statue back home.
Otherwise, it had ordinary amenities to it apart from the multi-linguistic staff and a currency exchange kiosk such as: an air conditioner pumping in cool air for guests, a clean lobby with a coffee machine and supplies for it waiting, a smoking room for isolation, clerks waiting to help guests, and even a tasteful arrangement of a painting of The Isles from a local artist. The painting of which was simply named, sanctuary. 
Nice place overall, but the price is a bit steep though, Zephyr thought to himself with a wince as he heard the price from a nearby clerk. Something to which rang up to the tune of a month’s work  for a weekend stay. Not sure if i’ll be coming to stay here for a night that’s for sure. 

“Well with that out of the way what should I do now? ” Zephyr asked himself as he made his way outside of the hotel onto the streets. “Not like there's much to see in The Isles, and I’m not exactly in the mood to see a volcano or two at the moment.”
He thought about it for a minute or two as another set of carts rolled by. And he was just about to think in his head to start following them when a strange individual came out of the hotel. Something to which he noted was a Diamond Dog. 
And while they were ordinary in the way that they dressed by wearing a simple buttoned, vest, tie, slacks, suspenders, and all of the things that one could expect from a modern businessman to wear today. All the while they took pains to make sure that they were clean, ordered, and straight in the professional manner that one could expect from a proper servant.  But they were entirely different in their figure and physical appearance.  
Because not only was the man anemic with his flesh as thin as paper and his demeanor carrying with it the burden of a dozen sleepless nights, the man was covered with scars: a missing ear on their left, a cropped one on their right, and crudely branded hands and fingers that spelled something out in a language that he could not understand. If Zephyr could look underneath the man’s back and arms he would have found they would have been riddled with laceration scars. 
It’s like looking at a twisted mirror, Zephyr thought to himself as he watched the diamond dog make their way to one of the nearby shaded tables that was set outside, and from a satchel that they carried they began to set up a chess board for themselves to play with.  Shaking and bloodshot eyes transfixed on the board as its tired owner moved carefully the pieces on the table one turn at a time. All of which fascinated Zephyr and gave him a morbid curiosity to find out who this Diamond dog was. 
 
So, wanting to find out Zephyr walked towards the man as they played, and abandoning all social precedent in the process he asked him, “what’s with the you know,” while pointing to his ears and hands. “It’s not something that you see every now and then.” 
“Hmmhmh?” the man responded to Zephyr as if they were snapped out of a trance before they garbled in a language that he didn’t know. It was hard to say what exactly the language was, but it sounded harsh, snappy, and it carried a low guttural growl to it. 
“Right, right, language barrier,” Zephyr muttered to himself as he scratched the side of his head with a sigh. I don’t know any foreign languages, so hopefully just saying it slower again will help. It worked last time so maybe it will again, he thought to himself before he started talking again. 
“Do, you, know, Equestrian?” Zephyr said as he took out the travel guide that he received from Ms. Coffin, flipped to a page where it showcased the crest of his homeland, and pointed towards it. “I’m, from, there, I don’t know the language here,” he finished pointing around the general area.
The man simply stared dumbfounded at Zephyr before eventually replying with an empathetic yet sad smile. “Yes, I know, I do not talk well.”
“That’s good!” Zephyr said with a simple smile that the man could talk Equestrian before he gestured at his ears again. ”So uhm, yeah what’s going on with that? Something happened to you?”
“Y-yes,” the man said with a strained and pained look on his face. “Accident happened, my fault.”
“And the markings?” Zephyr said, pointing to his own hands ignoring the man’s discomfort. “What happened there?”
“Accident,” the man replied again, somewhat uncomfortable as they covered their right hand with their left, but as if they remembered something they stopped. Their hands clearly tensed for a brief moment before they returned to their original position.
“I see,” Zephyr said, still ignorant  as he pointed to the man’s ears. still transfixed on the man’s ears. “Can you hear with them?”
“Enough,” the man answered before giving a sigh,“ I can hear enough.”  There was a silence before they eventually said, “is that all?”
“I guess so, thanks for your time” Zephyr said with a shrug as he began to make a motion to leave before he noticed that was the man that he recognized, a badge, but not just any badge, a governmental one. It was made from stamped metal, it had a series of numbers on it, and a set of words that he couldn't read, but he could tell what it was. He’d seen the countless variants before to know what it was such as the one his sister had worn when she visited him, the ones soldiers wore, and even the one the state police wore now. You see them enough, and eventually you can see them all. 
“The badge,” Zephyr said pointing to his own chest and hoping the man understood, “what’s that about?” 
This time the man merely sighed with exasperation and instead gestured towards the board that they had on the table. 
“Play with me and I talk,” the man said, gesturing towards it and tapping the board with his right hand. “You know?”
“Yes I know how to play,” Zephyr responded as he sat down and began to assemble his side. a gesture to move it and with a nod from it began to assemble his side. “So mind starting?”
“I am…assistant,” the assistant offered up as an answer as they tapped the badge and did the same to their own side of the board. “Given to me in recognition of my lord’s work, he is,” they paused for a moment to find the words that they wanted to say before they continued, “helper to soldiers here.”
“Helper?” Zephyr asked somewhat confused by what the man meant as he began the game by moving one of his pieces. “In what way?” 
“Teacher?” the assistant said hesitantly and unsure at the exact meaning of the word they said. “He is a teacher to soldiers.” 
“I see,” Zephyr said as he moved another piece before he asked his next question. “So he works for the government that you're from?” he asked as he looked at the assistant’s badge.
“No, no, no,” the assistant fervently disagreed, shaking their head all the while before they moved a piece. “He is….mercenary?” he continued but somewhat unsure about the word they said, “worker for people here.”
“Really?” Zephyr said, somewhat surprised by what he heard. He’d never heard of something like that before. While he heard of formal affairs of military instructors and soldiers going from one country to another to serve as instructors, hiring a mercenary to do it instead was something he’d never heard of before. Was it done before? If so, by who? And why? 
“Why?” he blurted out wanting to know and to which the assistant only gave a shrug.
 “Trouble maybe?” he answered before tapping the board to signal Zephyr’s turn with a smile. “Badlands.” 
“Badlands?” Zephyr said, confused. “Why would they be concerned about that?”
“Badlands has oil, metal, crystal,” the assistant answered plainly, “Equestria wants for long time, can’t have because the princess, and er,” they stopped as they struggled to find the next word. “Friendship?” he said somewhat unsure of the meaning of what they said. 
Zephyr gave a wave and a nod to continue before they could begin to find an answer to which they did so gladly.
“Problems if war,” the assistant continued, “also dragons are scary, very scary. Nobody wants to fight a dragon, but,” they said stopping for emphasis, “guns make dragons less scary, planes make dragons less scary, tanks also. Claims of dragons owning badlands and hurting Equestria aren’t scary anymore, greed does the rest,” they said with a smile.” 
“But The Monarch of The Sun she ca-” Zephyr tried to refute.
“She is only one person, she cannot hold back the army or people wanting badlands forever,” the assistant interrupted him as if it was obvious before adding, “if she wants to.” 
“I see,” Zephyr said with clear hesitation of the revelation Equestria may be using military action against The Isles for control of the Badlands. He knew a bit about the underlying situation, with the occasional headline on the news grumbling about the badlands. But going to war over it was unheard of to him, however it made a sick sort of sense when he thought about it. 
Get the resources and you can fuel the war effort, he thought to himself with a grimace while the diamond dog waited. Shows just how much I know about politics and industry I guess. Hopefully it doesn't come to that, but it could be interesting learning more about what’s happening here for a bit. Kill a few hours at the very least. 
“Anyway,” he said, snapping back to attention and moving a piece on the board to continue the game to the diamond dog’s delight. “Do you know who is helping them?” 
“Gryphons,” the assistant answered, relaxing a bit as they moved a piece on a board with a smile. “They pay for their help. If you wish to know more there is a chancery here.”
“And do you know where it is?” Zephyr asked with a furrowed look as he now realized that he was in a precarious situation and tried to salvage the situation the best that he could.  
The diamond dog simply nodded and he motioned with a finger that their answer was going to have to wait as he began to focus on the game. Reluctant but willing to accommodate his source of knowledge allowed the diamond dog to and did the same. 
Pieces were exchanged, moves were made, the tide of the board ebbed and flowed, and within only ten minutes Zephyr faced defeat as the assistant triumphantly won the game. 
“Thank you,” the assistant said with a smile clear on his face as he took a moment to bask in the moment of victory. 
“Hey you won, fair’s, fair I guess,” Zephyr said with a shrug while feeling a bit bitter as he idly tipped over a piece and watched it fall. “Do you mind getting back to what you were wanting to share earlier?”
“Yes, yes,” the assistant said as they began to reach into their satchel before eventually producing a small badge from it. The badge was made of tin and iron and it was as big as his palm. And stamped on the front of the badge was the depiction of some winged creature whose exact details Zephyr could make it. The only thing that he could notice was that the bird was strange, it was preparing to take flight from the remains of a broken egg, and underneath that creature was a short phrase in a language that he did not know.  
“I do not know words to explain how, forgive me” the assistant continued  with an apologetic look on their face before tapping on the badge and circling the depiction that was on it. “Look for this on, ehhhh,” they drawled on for a moment as they tried to look for a word.
“A statue?” Zephyr offered up to which the assistant nodded happily.
“Yes,” he said with a relieved smile before beginning to make a series of motions with his hands.  “Statue front of chancery, big place, very big, has a fence and guards” he said gesturing again while stifling a laugh as he realized the method in which he was describing it. 
“Alright I guess,” Zephyr said as he internally noted down the description of the place before he looked at the badge again. The badge was a complex design, iconic, easy to know, but one that he wasn’t sure if he could remember when he saw it. The Isles was a big place after all, and just because it was guarded by guards and had a fence didn’t make it easy to find. He was sure that given time he would easily get lost. 
“Can I have it?” he asked the assistant pointing towards the badge. 
That request sent a spike of nervousness through the assistant. One that deeply contrasted their willing, if a bit exasperated, intent to talk with Zephyr. 
“Why?” they blurted out confused clutching the badge that they had to their chest. The look on their face was one of sharp alarm and concern as if they were ordered to hand over their life savings over to a stranger. 
“So I don’t get lost trying to find the chancery?” Zephyr answered with a raised eyebrow. It was just a badge after all, it didn’t look special compared to the assistants own as it was merely made out of plain stamped metal, what was the harm in having it?
“Mhmh,” the assistant said, still hesitant, their face morphing into one of concern and quiet indecision. A moment passed as they studied Zephyr’s features for why they would ask this now.
Zephyr for his part was oblivious to what was happening in front of him and merely waited for a yes or no. Something that eventually came when the assistant twitched for a second as they remembered something dearly important to them and acquiesced to Zephyr’s request with a quiet, “okay.”
“Show to guards outside,” the assistant instructed Zephyr as they handed the badge over.  “When done, give this to gryphon named Heniss.”
“Noted, thank you,” Zephyr thanked the man with a genuine smile as he pocketed it before standing up and collecting his suitcase. “Hopefully you find someone else to play with you.”
The assistant simply nodded as they continued back towards their game. All the while Zephyr made to leave and to head to the chancery, but he had only just begun to leave when he remembered something.
“In case he asks, what’s your name?” Zephyr asked the assistant. 
“I do not have a name,” the assistant answered, but did so in a manner that felt like they were reciting something that they were taught due to the emotionless and stoic tone he now had. “I am nobody,” they paused before stressing with clear expectation, “yet.” 
“Okaaaay,” Zephyr replied unsteadily and shaken as he nodded to the man before returning back to heading towards the chancery, “i’ll be heading out now, thanks again.” 
The man simply nodded as he returned to his game, more than content to pass the time playing a board game than answering a stranger. Zephyr for his part tried to shake off the strange and uncanny feeling that he had from the man’s answer. 
What a weird answer, he thought to himself as he walked through the streets of The Isles. I mean if he didn’t want to give me his name, he could have just said no, but whatever, at least now I have a way to find it and to kill a few hours in the process. 
	Who knows, he continued his thoughts as he looked at the badge again, his thoughts once again to curiosity. Maybe I can even learn something from all of this. Hopefully it shouldn't take too long to find the statue this badge’s design is made from.