Captain Arkaeon of the City Guard looked at the scene and just shook his head.

"What in the name of all the Qin happened here?" He asked his lieutenant.

"Sir, it appears there was an... incident." The lieutenant replied, sounding quite unsure as to what to say. I could see both of them were well acquainted with each other, judging by their responses and the easy manner with which they interacted.

"Of course, there was a bloody incident! I can see it, you can see it! Anara bloody fucking Starsong can see it!" The captain responded.

Yes, there had been an incident. One, which I was fortunate enough to at least partially witness.

The marketplace was a right mess, overturned carts in the square, their goods lying on the paved stone. Oranges, apples and all manner of fruit crushed underfoot, their juices funneled through uneven spaces in cobblestones to form pools of sweet stickiness. Windows had been smashed and stalls reduced to splinters. Shard of pottery, dented pots and pans and even a few weapons lay around the square where the tornado like incident had occurred. It was a scene reminiscent of a riot except it had been caused by a single lowly creature.

Thankfully it was not Tyrant who was responsible, my irascible companion might take a bite or two out of the unwary but to cause chaos on this scale was a lot to demand from a lowly donkey. It was in fact a trison, a single trison that was responsible for causing havoc of such incredible, almost unbelievable magnitude.

About an hour ago, I was wandering the streets of Utopia, searching for paper. Sadly good reams cost, so I was comparing prices. After all, a lowly scholar such as myself cannot afford the finest, yet I have always been known for quality penmanship on quality paper. It is the one area I cannot afford to be lax.

The sun shone high overhead and I adjusted my new straw hat to keep the glare from my eyes. The blasted thing had already rubbed my forehead raw and the salt of sweat stung me with every bead. A foolish affectation perhaps, but on the roads a good straw hat might be all that keeps you from death by desiccation... pardon me, I meant dehydration.

A rider passed in front of me at an intersection, a man clad in armor plates, his coat of arms blocked by the brilliance of the sun, astride a mighty trison, a three horned monster, all shaggy fur and thundering hooves with a light almost white bleached patch of fur I suppose one could call it the creature's beard. I honestly didn't pay him much mind at that time and continued my shopping. Sights such as these might surprise the common folk, but in the capital of a kingdom, they are not to be remarked upon.

In fact I would venture I'd have forgotten the poor creature if not for the incident that would occur.

So I continued my purchases and a good half hour later, armed with new quill nubs and armored in sheets of paper, I strolled through the marketplace, just enjoying myself and the sights.

At a corner there was a small cafe, benches set up and people enjoying lively discord along with hot beverages. I decided to treat myself and sat down at a small table far from the entrance, waiting for service when I remarked on the same trison I had seen before. It had been picketed outside a tailor's shop. Its gaze was placid and content as it looked to be chewing on its own tongue, or at least something in its mouth.

The waiter came and I placed my order when I saw two men approach the picketed beast. Over the din of market goers and arguments of cafe patrons I could barely hear what they were saying but I did manage to catch a few things.

"That's... mighty... beast." Said the one. They were both young, one brown haired, one black, boys almost, not yet men at least, clad in fine tunics, their faces had not yet lost the glow of youth or the blotchiness that so often came with it.

The other one nodded enthusiastically. Then he took something out of a satchel.

I recognized it for what it was, immediately. One glimpse of that label was all it took. Many pleasant evenings and terrible mornings had I spent with a bottle Rovandil's Finest. The potency of rotgut with a refinement fit for the highest of tables. It was the finest booze to be found within Arkadia and possibly even further afield. I have not sampled all the wares of the world, so I cannot discount the possibility of there being something grander.

Then I noticed what they were about to do, but I could not stop them, for before I could even move the black haired boy had uncorked the bottle and pressed it to the trison's lips. A long purplish tongue came out and almost engulfed the entire bottle as the trison eagerly accepted the offering.

Like a babe suckling at a teat, the trison guzzled the fine brew moving its head as the lad moved the bottle, teasing the poor thing. I had risen by that time and almost reached the pair.

It was too late.

Say many things about me. Call me a quill obsessed windbag and you wouldn't be far wrong. Call me a rambler and jack-a-nape and I wouldn't argue. But one thing no man can argue with, I possess one hell of a finely honed survival skill, the roads of Elyria are many things, but they're death for the careless traveler.

So I knew instantly when the once placid trison, wasn't. Call it a gut feeling, or my mind interpreting the set of its shoulders, the placement of hooves, the snorting. Whatever it was, it told me to run. Run as fast and as far as I could. I heeded it and took off in the opposite direction.

I heard more than saw the crash as the beast ripped the tethering post apart and I can only imagine what it was doing as glass shattered and people started shouting and screaming in horror. I turned when I heard a commanding voice call out.

"Stop, Bezoar! Stop!"

It was the nobleman, still clad in his armor emerging from the tailor's. Surprisingly, the trison, Bezoar, did stop. In fact it seemed to calm almost immediately as his master approached.

The nobleman placed a calming hand on its forehead and whispered something. Then he placed his foot in the stirrup and mounted the beast. He raised his visor, grinned and held his hand waving at people. "It's alright good people! See! He's calm now! There's nothing to feaaaaargh!"

The speech turned to screams as the trison, now complete with armored rider went mad again. Like a drunkard with a hidden temper it had bided it's time to get revenge on the man that rode him. The armored nobleman was waved about like a ragdoll, feet caught in the stirrups.

The trison started its true rampage and I didn't wait around to see it all go bad. Instead I took the nearest alley, knowing it was too tight to fit the lumbering giant. Oh the things I heard as I waited the beast out. The screams, the sounds of shattering, of splintering, of breakage and loss. Again and again as the beast's snorts turned from deep growls to more lazy heehaws, the likes of which Tyrant makes when he's eaten one too many fall apples. Then all sounds stopped. Ha! I thought. Big the trison may be, but when it came to indulgence it had to be a lightweight and a bottle of Rovandil's could most likely knock out an ursaphant.

Cautiously I slipped out the alleyway. Seeing the devastation, my heart fell. It was pure and utter carnage as broken people and broken objects lay strewn about as if a god's hand had just slapped the market square sideways.

I looked around for the beast, taking one step, two steps, three steps further into the market place.

Nothing, absolutely nothing. A sigh of relief passed my lips until I heard a snort, coming from behind me.

I turned and dodged sideways inches before the beast impaled me, my hat flying as I hit cobblestones.

That final charge must have taken whatever was left of its strength for it collapsed in a heap near a fruit cart, now rider less, long tongue licking at the spilled juices.

I stood up and dusted myself off, thanking all the gods that I was alright.

The City Guard responded with remarkable efficiency I must say. They brought in stretchers and healers, set up a blockade and brought order to chaos.

So there I was, with a City guard captain telling him my story. "What about that?" He asked me, once I was done. I turned to look at the central fountain, a beautiful statue of Angelica, now missing a left arm.

I shook my head. "No idea." I replied earnestly. "It's all a blur."

The Captain nodded, satisfied.

I turned to leave the square, without my purchases, lost as they were in the tumult when I noticed one final curiosity. My hat, being chewed on by a drunken trison, snoring off some of the best liquor in the world.

Thus was the origin of Arkadia's most curious of laws.

He who shall inebriate trisons and or ride said inebriated trisons shall be subject to harsh penalties.

I lay down my pen, thankful that I am not a trison rider. The worst Tyrant can do is bite me, not devastate an entire marketplace.

Oh and Angelica's statue? It's still there, one armed now, though still a masterpiece.