//------------------------------//
// Servants of the People 
// Story: Equestria: A Flux Tale 
// by Star Sage 
//------------------------------//

The hospital's staff are instantly alert as your party enters. It helps that the guards, two bat winged, two pegasi, and two crystal, come in first, standing at attention, and clearing the way for you and the Princesses. Octavia and Vinyl bring up the rear, the former trying her best to look dignified in the company she was keeping today, while the latter was trotting forward with an air of just smug. Vinyl was milking this for everything she was worth.

“Hello, we wish to know where former ambassador Ashati is being kept,” says Luna to the front desk mare, who stumbles over herself to get open a book. When she finally does, she sheepishly grins at the monarch of the night, and points with one hoof down a hall.

“He's being kept in intensive care room 108 for now. Security's been told not to allow him visitors though,” says the mare.

“It's fine, we've got a special guest for him, and we're sure they'll let him through,” said Celestia, shooting off a radiant smile that seemed to drain the nerves right out of the poor woman. Your party then set off down the indicated hall, passing several empty rooms as you went. Idly, you wonder if the hospital every had enough patience to fill every room, but then figure that it was a precaution. Better to have the room and not need it, than need the room and not have it.

“Halt!” cries a voice, and you turn to find a trio of stallions standing in front of you. The three don't look nearly as confident as the voice had sounded a moment ago, probably because they were looking upon three gods, one demigod, and their Royal Guards.

“Yes?” asked Luna, giving them a truly paralyzing stare that made one of the trio shiver visibly, though the other two held their ground.

“We were under orders to allow no one, pony or otherwise, into the room of the traitor,” said the lead guard.

“As it happens, I issued that order myself, and now wish to issue an exception, if you would be so kind. My friend surprised me by asking to visit with Ashati, and I wish to fulfill his request,” Celestia informed them, and all three looked at each other in confusion, before finally deciding discretion is the better part of valor, and standing aside so your group can stand in front of the door, with the Princesses standing aside so you can go in first.

“Can I...be given a minute alone with him?” you ask, turning to the royals, who just stare at you blankly, showing no emotion whatsoever.

“And why would you wish to do that?” asked Cadence in a voice that reminded you of her aunts.

“Because, I have questions for him. Personal ones, and I want him to understand they come from me, and no one else,” you answer.

“And what if he tries something again?” asks Celestia.

“Then I'll end him. I have the power now. But I doubt it will come to that. He's beaten, and he knows it. Whatever he sough to gain last night is beyond his grasp,” you tell her, the threat coming easily to your lips. The three alicorns take a moment to look at each other, and you can feel the cloud forming between them again, before Luna turns towards you.

“We would ask that you take no drastic actions, nothing that you can't take back, without us present. But we believe you are correct. In his present state, he can do little to harm you,” says the Princess of the Night, and you nod. Turning the knob in your hand before you can rethink this, you open the door, and slip inside, the latch slipping back into place with a click that seems loud.

Inside the room is a hospital room. Nothing about it screamed pony or griffon. The plant in the room seemed a bit more healthy, and there was no TV as you were used to seeing, but otherwise the room was normal. Well, expect for the bed itself. That had a weird looking shape on it, with several tubes tide to it, and a machine that was clicking with each breath the shape took.

“So, you've come for revenge?” asks a familiar voice, the same one from last night, or a lifetime ago, depending on how you looked at it.

“No, revenge serves no purpose,” you tell the figure simply, opening the blinds of the room a touch, allowing light into the space for probably the first time in hours. The griffon recoils from it at first, but you can hear the wheeze of breath as he tries to pull away. He settles down after a moment, and you pull a chair towards him, setting it so that your back would be towards the window, veiling you in darkness, while you stare into his face.

“Why did you do it?” you ask simply, as you sit there. The griffon, his beak half open, starts to answer your question, but then cuts it off with a resounding clack.

“What does it matter? I failed,” he says at last.

“It matters to me. It matters to you. The reason we do something is almost as important as what we do,” you tell him, and he just stares at you for several heartbeats, before he sighs.

“I did it to save my people,” he states, and you sense of him resounds with the feeling that what he said was true, even as your mind came to a brick wall wondering just how that worked.

“What do you mean?” you ask him.

“I mean what I said. My people, the Griffon Kingdoms, are a dying breed. We may appear strong, and only two generations ago we might have had the power to fight even the might of the Pony Nation, but now? Now we are losing ourselves, now we are becoming weaker with every passing moon, soon to be forever enshrouded in night,” he explains, and again the words ring true.

“So you think your culture is dying?” you ask, trying to find some meaning within his words other than the literal.

“That too, but no. Our people are dying. The ancient nesting grounds are slowly being overtaken by the Belka, lizards who live in the valleys between our peaks. They are a vicious and cruel race, descended from dragon spawn of some sort, or so I've been told,” he begins.

“They have always been at war with us, and with those ponies you call friends, and anyone else who dares to live on ground they wish to claim, whether they deserve it or not. For eons we, the ponies, and a dozen other races have kept them at bay, as the Belka are wild, almost feral in nature, and have never been a large threat to anyone before,” he continues, and from somewhere you get the image of a lizard like humanoids, with green scaled skin, and large barbed tails.

“Till a generation ago. Then the Greymen came. They are a council of some of the oldest Belka, for like their forebears the lizards age but never die. These Greymen assembled their brothers into an army, that is conquering the valleys below our peaks, even encroaching on the land of the ponies in their greed,” he coughs once as he speaks, but it does not stop his story.

“It is to our shame that we haven't been able to defend our homes from them. Never massive assaults mind. A keep here, an outpost there, but still, every month brings them another victory, another loss for our people. Many of us see it, but there is little we can do to stop it. The ponies could help, but they refuse to, instead saying they must think of their own people first. We do not disagree there, but they are withholding aid even when it could be given,” he says the last in a sigh of defeat.

“Why would Celestia do that? She's not one to ignore the suffering of others,” you tell him, remembering how kind the Princess had been upon first meeting you, willing to give you a part of her own power, at risk, and then forgiving you for your lapse of judgment when you tried to take more.

“Her kind cannot stand fighting, they never have enjoyed battle, and she will not risk her ponies for my kind, even with so many Griffons who are raised within her borders,” he tells you, and for the first time, you detect a hint of a lie. You probe at it, lightly touching it with you senses. You remember what Celestia and the others had warned you about in the carriage, but feel this is important, as you try to find the truth, which comes to you in a flash.

“She thinks you'll use any aid she gives you to drive the Belka to extinction in retaliation,” you say simply, and the Ambassador turns his head sharply to face you, a cold glare to his stare, but he doesn't deny the accusation, as he slowly returns to staring at the ceiling.

“But even she's not all knowing, and she can't see every permutation,” you tell him, approaching him and coming out of the light to stand beside his bed.

“Humph, she is not wrong though. I was willing to go this far just to gain her aid, even if I had not truly intended it. How much farther would I have gone to regain my people's glory, to once again stand tall and proud on our peaks?” he asks, more of himself than of you, as one of his claws reaches down to tap at the bandage on his chest.

“You would have gone as far as it took. You are a proud bird, rightly so of your people. You erred, but such is the way of things. To err is mortal, to forgive is divine,” you say, the words coming unbidden to your lips.

“Heh, so you are a god now then as well?” he asks, turning to face you, that odd smile on his beak. The smile fades as his eyes behold you. With a merest expression of your power you create a glowing aura around yourself, an ever swirling rainbow of colors that shimmers quietly. It is an effect of subtle power, creating a feeling in the viewer of wonder, rather than terror, as a more powerful aura would have.

“I am something akin to it, yes. But I am still mortal enough that I would not see you escape justice for what was done,” you tell him, as you lean in close to his bed.

“I would grant you a boon and a curse both at once, if you would take them. It will be a burden I lay upon you. A burden of power, which comes with responsibility that may crush you under its weight,” you explain.

“You say the power of the ponies would protect your people. It is magic you speak of, not their armies, correct?” you ask, and the griffon, Ashati, nods.

“Then I offer you this. In exchange for the sky, I will grant you magic like theirs, magic to work miracles and wonders, but a magic that requires the sacrifice of who you believe yourself to be,” you begin, his eyes transfixed on you, as little tongues seem to leap from your aura, giving it the look of fire as he looks upon you.

“This power is called the Weave, the power to craft spells from lines of magic that are made up of the four elements. Earth, Water, Air, and Fire. Using these, you may weaves spells,” you continue, touching his claw, and sending a pulse of your thoughts into him, instantly his mind fills with visions of humans crafting spells with such power, things like raising mountains, as well as controlling the weather.

“However, three Oaths must be taken, as well as the loss of your wings. Would you be willing to pay that price?” you ask him, and the griffon ambassador just looks upon you, his eyes filled with wonder as his mind reels with the images you send into it. He nods, subtly, but it is there, and so you continue.

“The First Oath. You may not speak a word that is not true. This Oath will keep you from lying, and likely make it so you can never be a leader of your people, as some untruth is necessary for such a position, if not in dealing with your own people, then in dealing with others.”

“The Second Oath is that this power is not a Spear, but a Shield. It is used for defense only. You may not attack others with it, but you may defend them, and in so doing force your enemies to give up a battle.”

“The Third Oath is the most important. The power cannot be used to make weapons. It may heal a broken bone, or mend a mind that has found itself fractured, or make tools, or a dozen other things, but never a weapon.”

“These Oaths will bind you, and if you break them, you will find the power of the Weaving Magic is lost to you, and the sky will not be returned. Do you accept this power, and the responsibility it will carry?” you ask him, and the griffon has to consider this for a moment. He doesn't take more than that moment to decide however, and he nods at you, getting a smile from your lips, as you extend your aura over him.

With your power you start to change him. Much like healing Gilda earlier, this is a hard thing. When you'd healed Fancy Pants in the Palace, you had merely enhanced the spells that had already been laid on him, adding to them. With Gilda, you had had no spells to work with, and had merely Changed her into a specimen of perfect health, a thing she could have been. But this was so much different that you had to concentrate hard, focusing your mind on what you wanted.

His body is soon covered with cobalt blue light, as you change his insides. His wings are slowly made to vanish, the feathers, bones, and sinew fading into nothing, as you take the sky from him, but grant him the magic he wanted. His beak and eyes glow brightly with the power of the change, the blue infusing them, until the color is ingrained in those parts of him, and he has senses, both new and wonderful.

“It is done,” you say at last, trying not to collapse. That was almost as hard as repairing K-Colt all those months ago, and it drains your body, forcing you to draw a chair close with your power, and then sit in it, as the griffon on the bed pokes at his new form. His claws reach onto his back, feeling at the spots where his wings had once been, and finding only his back feathers, while his face stares into a mirror, looking into the light blue glowing eyes, and his new blue beak.

“You are now able to Weave spells from the Elements. Use this power to again make your people great, to bring them back to their former glory,” you tell him, and he nods, his eyes never leaving the mirror as his claws start to probe his beak.

“In addition to your power I have given you two other boons. Consider them gifts to your people for regaining me my powers, even if that wasn't what you intended,” you start, breathing deeply, letting the air fill your lungs, and finding your power already recovering despite feeling drained only a minute or so ago.

“You may now grant this power to others of your kind. Like yourself, they must give up the Sky, and agree to the Oaths, but they may be granted it by you. They must full understand what they are being offered though, before it can be given to them, but I'm sure a bird who played ambassador to ponies can convey the meaning of the Oaths,” you tell him.

“And what is the second?” he asks, after a moment, as his claws return to his sides, and he turns towards you.

“Those you grant the power to, may, if they find the deal less than worthwhile, regain their wings, by touching their beaks and reciting the words 'Klaatu Barada Nikto'. However, doing so will seal the power of magic from them forever, and you, for what you did, are denied the sky forevermore,” you tell him, the last your price to him for what had happened last night.

Ashati says nothing to you, as he stares at you sitting there. Slowly the seconds tick away, and you rise to your feet, only to nearly bowled over as the griffon rolls out of the bed, his wounds healed in the process of giving him the magic of the Weave. Rather than come at you though, he falls onto the floor in a gesture of worship, his claws crossed against his chest, as his beak rests against the hard tile floor of the hospital.

“I am unworthy of the kindness you have shown me. I am a foal, fetid creature who deserved your hatred. You instead gave me a gift, and granted me the power to save my people. I will make sure they know that. That you are their salvation, and beg you one last boon. What should myself and those who follow me call ourselves?” he asks, and then looks up to you, reverence in his eyes. The look actually causes a heavy weight to settle on your chest, like you're the unworthy one, but you consider his request.

“The Power of the Weave is from another people, called the Aes Sedai. However, they are also ones who forgot their path, and ruled through tricks and fear. Instead of setting you on that same road, I grant you the name Geth. In the Khelish tongue it means 'Servant of the People', and I charge you to become worthy of that title,” you tell him at last, and his head bows again, with you noticing his eyes glow in the same color as the Geth of Mass Effect. Probably a coincidence though.

“We will do as you instruct. We will make ourselves worthy Servants,” he says, before rising to his feet. You don't say anything to him, as you walk towards the door, hearing the clattering of hooves outside as the ponies, who had probably been listening at it step away, and the two of you walk out to face them.