Cartography of War

by Daetrin

Mind Your Manners

The gryphon encampment did not look too far different from the pony ones she’d seen years ago. It was somewhat more vertical, with dozens of broad sheltered platforms set on top of wooden pilings, but there were even more tents still on the ground. And in the bay beyond there was a large ship, bare-masted but with a carved figurehead on the prow.

And of course there were the gryphons. They weren’t as brightly colored as pegasi, but they flashed blue and green and white, circling the camp or moving through it, or even swimming in the bay. As soon as the nearest of them spotted the passengers the two scouts bore, they called it out to the entire camp. With the wind in her ears, she could only pick out the words of the nearest. “The scouts found Wing-Captain Gérard, and a pony!”

“Idiots,” Veshas muttered, apparently to himself. He followed Tarn down in a sudden drop that made Rose’s stomach lift into her throat, and then suddenly they were on one of the platforms. She hastened to slide down before Veshas decided to dump her off himself. He wasn’t nearly as hostile as Tarn, but that didn’t mean he was happy to carry her about.

Rose took a few steps away from the bare edge, and tried to ignore the fiery glare Tarn turned on her. The entire camp smelled of gryphon, and she tried to calm the hammering of her heart as she kept a wary eye on the predatory figures darting through the air. At least none of them seemed interested in attacking, even if Tarn was clearly restraining himself.

“You have my thanks,” Gérard said. “Return to your posts.”

Tarn launched himself hard enough to make the platform creak and shudder, and Veshas followed suit a moment later. She was oddly disappointed, and realized she’d hoped Veshas would have had least had some parting comment for her. But perhaps it was too much to ask.

“Ready to meet Kree?” Gérard had his head cocked at her, and she realized the question was genuine.

“No, but that hardly matters.” She took in a deep breath and let it out, the tenseness turning to something close to nausea now. The scab on her burn still tugged at her when she moved, adding its own arbitrary prickles of pain to her discomfort. It almost buried the fear. Gérard nodded approvingly and pushed through the flap that covered the shelter’s entrance.

Rose followed.

There were four gryphons in the room, but she knew precisely who Kree was even though she’d never seen him before. Though slightly smaller than Gérard, he dominated the room, his eyes a deep, arterial red that fixed her to the floor with a look. She stared back. His face was steel blue, with bright splashes of white across his brow and down his neck and turning into stripes along the rest of his body, all the way down to the end of his tail.

The eyes studied her, dismissed her, and turned on Gérard. “Where is it?” He snapped, and his accent was precisely the same as Gérard’s.

“It is good to see you too, Kree.” Gérard’s tone was amused again. Dangerous again. While Rose was tense and stiff, Gérard was relaxed, lazy. Calm.

Kree blinked, an expression flickering across his face that made the sickening churn of fear and anger inside her hiccup. He looked sad, tired. Ashamed. But then it was gone again and he narrowed his eyes at Gérard. “I am not in the mood for you.” He lifted a claw to beckon to the gryphon just behind him, one almost pure white and as large as Tarn. “Search him and chain him, and get that out of here and butcher it.”

“No.” Gérard’s single word came a moment before her own protest, and the shudder of disgust at the use of those last two words. The white gryphon stirred, but didn’t advance. “She is my guest. You would be a poor host indeed to offer her any sort of harm.”

“You cannot make prey a guest.” Kree’s voice was flat, brooking no argument. Rose disagreed anyway.

“I’m not prey.” Her words drew the gaze of all four gryphons, facing them, though Gérard only flicked an ear. “My name is Compass Rose and I’m a cartographer. I’ve traveled over two hundred miles with Gérard. I’ve even fought and hunted with him.” It came out more rushed and tangled than she would have liked, but it came out nonetheless.

“You’re a pony.” Now his voice was hammered steel, and Rose wondered how he could have gone from Gérard’s foalhood friend to this.

“Yes. But I’m a civilian pony, and a guest. I didn’t think gryphons executed civilians and guests.”

“Kree,” Gérard said gently. “This is my command again. And think. Do not give orders you would later regret.”

“Your command?” Kree stalked out from behind the desk, tail lashing, wings rustling. The white gryphon shadowed him, circling around to flank Rose. The other two watched with mild startlement, and she realized they had to be sailors, not part of the warrior wings. “Someone who refuses to engage the enemy cannot be a commander. Someone who simply gives up cannot be a commander. “

“You cannot always win by force. Do you intend to harass the entire southern border with five wings of sailors and one wing of soldiers? You have separated your scouts, and you know you should not. There is no victory to be had here, Kree.”

“What has made you so terrified of winning? When you merely need snatch it with your talons?” He held up his own talons, curling them in as if to seize some invisible prey.

“You cannot win here, Kree.” Gérard’s voice hardened. “But I can. Must I demonstrate that?”

“Yes.” Kree snarled, stepping back a pace and lashing his tail, muscles tensing. “Show me you still have fire in your belly.”

Gérard stepped sideways, circling around Kree and away from Rose in the confined space. She lifted a hoof by reflex as it to follow him, but stopped herself in time, scattered and distracted. The white gryphon did move, taking two steps toward the pair. Rose swallowed and, with another glance at Gérard, stepped in front of him. She only had Gérard’s talk of duels and her own understanding of gryphon honor to go by, but that was enough. “That’s just between them, isn’t it?”

He turned his gaze on her and if she hadn’t already been marinating in fear she would have screamed. The cool blue eyes held neither passion nor dispassion, armored as if there was nothing behind them at all. Those eyes watched her for a moment, his entire body betraying no emotion at all, and then blinked. “Yes,” he said, in a strange feathery whisper. His head shifted slightly and she saw ragged scars on his throat, under the fur. “You are right. They must settle things to their own satisfaction.” His eyes flicked from her to the pair without changing their chilling non-expression.

She followed suit, glad to have a reason to look away from that disconcerting face, though having to watch Gérard fight was hardly better. He’d shrugged off the saddlebags and pack, the dried meat spilling onto the floor, but Kree was clearly better rested and uninjured. She had no idea if Gérard was good enough despite all that to win whatever fight might come, but she took heart from the fact that he didn’t seem too worried. Or too calm.

Then Kree moved, and he was even faster than Gérard. He launched forward in a rush she could barely follow, a brief flap of his wings blowing papers off the desk before his talons scraped the wood of the wall behind where Gérard had been. She’d seen him fight before, but never against another gryphon, and she watched in horrified fascination as he seemed to dance.

Kree tried to close with quick rushes, claw and talon splintering the wooden walls and floors, and Gérard simply swayed aside, a blur of movement and flashing talons. But he wasn’t winning. A thin trickle of blood appeared under one of his ears, and another on his foreleg, a few drops soaking instantly into the floor. A noise escaped her muzzle, and Gérard’s eyes flickered to her for a moment. He winked.

The next time Kree closed Gérard grappled with him, the two of them tumbling over the floor and smashing through the desk, sending broken wood and vellum into the air and driving the sailors back a few steps. They slammed to a halt on the far side of the room, with Gérard’s talons around Kree’s throat.

Kree froze.

“You wanted to know where it was,” Gérard said, quiet and friendly. “Because you attacked me so close to Equestrian soil, and because you couldn’t stand to check if I was properly dead and had no further orders on me, the ponies have it. Not that it matters, because by now there is no time left.”

“But - “

“No.” Gérard cut him off, and Rose cautiously began to make her way toward them, the white gryphon now shadowing her as she picked her way around fragments of desk. “You never really believed the reports, but we are losing. We have lost. The dragons could have given us enough time to negotiate a proper peace. But that was a month ago, and it would have taken both of us.”

Rose blinked. She still didn’t know exactly what Gérard’s mission had been, but if it had involved bringing the dragons in on the side of the gryphons she was just as glad he hadn’t finished it. Though she’d never seen one, and there hadn’t been any troubles in her lifetime, the stories were enough.

“Instead, you decided you knew better than I, or even Aida, and now you are responsible for the deaths of Grizelda and Arvel and Glyn. And you are also responsible for all those who have lost their lives at the front in these weeks. How many can your honor bear, Kree? How many have you sacrificed for your own sense of rightness?”

“And you killed my friends,” Rose cut in. Kree’s eyes flicked from Gérard to her, his beak closing with a snap. She found it hard to believe after all this time she was finally facing the one responsible, and the surreality of the moment left her fumbling for words. “Goldy and Sharps and Sky and Mercy and Scarlet. They’re all dead because of you and we weren’t even supposed to be fighting! We were surveyors! We were out here because it’s away from the fighting! You just attacked us because we were there. How do you answer for that?”

Gérard, oddly, looked at the white gryphon behind her rather than at Rose herself. “It is bad enough I must listen to you,” Kree said harshly. “But must I listen to prey lecture me too?”

“Would prey lecture you?” Gérard lifted his eyebrows, his tone staying light and easy. “She is right. Gryphons should hunt for food, or fight with honor. A survey team in the middle of nowhere is not valuable, and they would not have threatened our mission. I understand what you were thinking but it has not worked.” Again he looked past Rose. “Do you agree, Ganon?”

“Yes.” The strange, whispering voice came from behind her. “He is right, Kree. We cannot fulfill our duties and obligations here your way.”

Kree glared for a moment then seemed to collapse in on himself, his body sagging. “Very well,” he said, reaching up to push Gérard’s talons away from his throat. Gérard stepped back and Kree rubbed at his beak in a strangely familiar gesture. It was unsettling to hear Gérard’s style of words and see his gestures from another gryphon, and one so different. “Now what?”

“We go back.” Gérard’s voice was flat now, edged. “I will answer for my failures, and you will explain yours to Aida. And we will consider how we will pay the debts of all the deaths we are responsible for.”

“Gryphon and pony,” Rose added, and Kree’s head tilted slightly to regard her, his blood-red eyes narrowed.

“So it would seem.” It was the first time he’d really addressed her, and she felt some satisfaction at the emotion in his voice, though it fell far short of the half-imagined confrontation that had been picking at the back of her mind throughout the entire journey. She was a bit muddled within herself, knowing he needed to face something stricter than Gérard’s lecture for his transgressions, but unable or unwilling to envision the nature of it.

“Captain,” Gérard said, and one of the sailor gryphons still at the periphery of the room answered.

“Aye?”

“Get the Windrunner ready. We’ll be sailing as soon as we pack up here. Sometime tomorrow, I would think.”

“Aye.” He beckoned to his companion and stumped out.

“Ganon, since I am grounded, an elevated command post will not work for me. Take Rose and requisition one of the tents for me.”

“Yes, sir.” Ganon whispered, and turned. Rose widened her eyes at Gérard, not at all comfortable with the idea of going off into the middle of the camp with only an incredibly strange gryphon for company, but he nodded at her and she turned to follow Ganon. She had to trust his judgement, here.

As soon as she stepped outside the flap she was conscious of all the predator’s eyes on her. There seemed to be even more gryphons now, and not just in the air. They were everywhere, perching on top of things in the way pegasi did, and even if they weren’t all staring at her it felt that way. She caught snatches of conversation, some speculating what she was doing there, others about the flavor of her meat or even lewd elaboration on what Tarn had said. But Ganon’s presence seemed to act as a deterrent, and none of them approached.

He took Gérard’s order more literally than Rose expected, and she squeaked as his massive talons wrapped firmly, though gently, around her barrel and lifted her off the platform. It was just a short swoop to the tent Ganon had chosen, one with a pennant on a pole in front of it, but she still felt wobbly when he set her down. Ganon either didn’t notice or affected not to, sweeping past her and through the open front.

Rose followed, and nearly collided with another gryphon. “Why, you brought us lunch!” She said, eyes sparkling with something very like malice as she reached for Rose. Ganon moved before Rose could recoil, and with a dull, meaty thump the other gryphon was sent tumbling to the back of the tent.

“This is Compass Rose, the Wing-Commander’s guest,” Ganon said in his unsettling whisper. “You will treat her accordingly.”

The other gryphon paused in the middle of picking herself up off the rush matting of the floor, eyeing Ganon with disbelief for a moment before drawing herself up to attention. “Yes, sir. My apologies, ma’am.”

Rose blinked. She had been expecting another brush-off, as with Kree, so she appreciated the apology perhaps more than she should. “Well, accepted, but what in Equestria possessed you to just attack on sight?”

“Don’t like ponies, ma’am,” she replied, not quite looking at Rose.

“Wing-Commander Gérard is moving his command post to this tent,” Ganon said. “Everyone clear out.”

“What’s our new berth, sir?” It was yet another gryphon, and Rose realized there were actually four in the tent along with Ganon and herself. It wasn’t like Rose’s tent, either, but a large, rough canvas covering with no floor. It was practically identical to the pony military tents Rose had seen once upon a time.

“Take the old command post. Doubletime, all.” The two of them watched the four gryphon soldiers gather up their belongings, which took hardly any time at all. Besides the bedrolls and saddlebags they had some pieces of armor and talon sheaths, but it only took them a few minutes to clear the woven mats that had been placed over the ground. They filed out, each of them giving Ganon salute, a clenched talon against their chest, and two of the four deigned to give her a nod.

That left her alone with Ganon.

He seemed content to wait in silence, but she felt compelled to ask a question.

“Were you there, at the attack on my camp?”

“Yes.” Between the feathered whisper and the dead eyes, it was impossible for her to tell what the word meant to him. She suppressed the images that evoked, regarding him and trying to discern anything at all about what he felt about ponies or herself. And failing.

“Would you have attacked on your own, if you knew we were civilians?”

“No.” He said. “That is not what an honorable soldier does.”

Gérard saved her from any more failed attempts at conversation, limping in through the front. “Ganon, you’re back under Kree. He’s in charge of the withdrawal now. And have someone bring me a bedroll.”

“Yes, sir,” he whispered, saluted, and ghosted out of the tent.

Alone with Gérard all the tension and fear seemed to drain away, as if she’d just shed a full cart, and the iron band around her chest loosened, letting her take a full, cleansing breath. “Is everything all right?” She asked, crossing over to him. The scratches had already stopped bleeding, leaving only matted fur and feathers.

“As well as can be expected. We were lucky Captain Sekal was there to see all that. I can handle the soldiers, but sailors can be more fractious when it comes to unexpected orders. But now he knows I’m in charge, and more importantly, that Ganon thinks so too.”

“Why Ganon? I thought he was just a tracker. And he’s…” She trailed off, not wanting to say anything impolite, but there was clearly something off about the gryphon.

“He is damaged,” Gérard finished for her. “Yes. He can not tell the difference between cruelty and kindness, between justice and vengeance. Between a word spent well or one spent ill. And he knows this. So he clings to honor and duty and obligation, to keep himself from becoming a monster.”

“Sweet Celestia,” she murmured. That sounded terrifying, both for him and everyone around him.

“Yes,” he agreed. “But he also has no personal loyalties, no ego, no bias. His judgement has a strange credibility of its own.”

A credibility that Gérard lacked, with his history. She couldn’t think of any pony equivalent, but it was clear enough regardless. And it explained why Gérard would trust Ganon to carry her around the camp. Ganon might be the only person within hundreds of miles that genuinely didn’t care that she was a pony. “So what now? Do you really think we’ll be leaving tomorrow?”

“Perhaps.” He stretched, pacing the tent. “Soldiers can move very quickly. Sailors nearly as well. But it is at least a week’s sail even with the tradewinds and we will need to be supplied for it. Kree knows the state of our resources better than I.”

Rose found herself restless as well, her hooves far too used to walking to remain still. She walked to the front of the tent, peering out at the sudden buzz of activity as orders were passed. “But after that? We sail back to Eyrie, all right, but there’s still a war between me and home, and I’m still surrounded by gryphons. I trust you, of course, but you’re just one person.”

“I know it.” Gérard came to join her at the tent, looking out at the milling gryphons, already swarming over the anchored ship. “Aida, at least, still trusts me. Respects me. So that may be some shield, at least. But I suspect that getting you back among ponies will be part of ending the war. You understand us, Rose, and do not think Aida will miss the value in that. I have thought for some time that you might have to act as our herald when it comes to surrender.”

“Your herald?” She looked at him, startled. It wasn’t as if she had any position among the gryphons

“How many gryphons know Equestrian? How many ponies know Alce? And,” he added wryly. “It would free a gryphon from the ignominity of bringing surrender terms.”

“You would be doing it if I didn’t.” It wasn’t really a question. By now she had enough of a feel for both Gérard and his position to know that much.

“I was first choice. But this mission came first, and succeed or fail, I was not expected to be at the front when a decision needed to be made.”

“Well, I’m glad you will be.”

He cocked his head at her and she gave him a somewhat sad smile. “I can’t imagine someone like Kree or Tarn actually...ending the war. But you...I think you would get along with Princess Celestia. I hope so, anyway.”

His reply was interrupted by the four that had vacated the tent earlier, returning with Gérard’s requested bedroll and abandoned bags as well as a travel desk and the papers from the command post, tied in a bundle with twine. She stood aside as they bustled through, setting the furnishings in place in a matter of moments.

“Thank you, Talon Alria,” Gérard said, addressing the gryphon that had nearly attacked Rose. “Return to your duties.”

“Sir.” She gave him a brusque salute and left on the wing, the wind of her passage ruffling the front of the tent. The other three, the rest of her half-wing, followed in haste. Gérard watched them go and clicked his beak.

“Tch. Shall we walk the camp?”

“All right.” She wasn’t exactly looking forward to strolling around among all those gryphons, but she could think of at least three reasons why she should. And her hooves still itched to move, as if they weren’t used to standing still. “Can I leave my saddlebag?” She didn’t dare to be more direct, given how good gryphon hearing was.

His eyes flickered in calculation or decision, and he nodded. “Certainly. I think we can rely upon that remaining private.” He was clearly thinking about gryphon hearing too, and his words were either challenge or warning. Or possibly just reminder.

She hesitated a moment before laying the saddlebag and harness on the desk. It was an admission that the long trek was over and that she was, if not home, at least finished with the hardscrabble survival that had marked so many days and nights.

“Rose?” Gérard’s voice was soft, concerned, and she turned to join him at the tent entrance, leaving the saddlebag behind.

“Just thinking,” she said. “It’s odd to leave it behind. I’ve spent more time with that on than off, this past month.”

“I do understand. This is not where you belong, Rose. Perhaps we will get you home soon enough.

It wasn’t where Gérard belonged either. It wasn’t that he was out of place, for he certainly was in command, but that he was more guarded, more careful among his own kind than he had been in the wilderness. But conscious of the potential audience, she refrained from saying so directly.

“And you too. Where is your home, anyway?” She followed him out of the tent, falling into step beside him to stroll through the camp. It was mostly grass, and unlike pony camps the grass was still untrampled. In fact aside from Gérard and herself, she rarely saw any gryphon on the ground for any longer than it took to enter or leave one of the tents.

“Wherever Aida sends me.”

Rose eyed him skeptically and he chuckled softly. “Tch. I have had no time these past years, and have had too much risked too often.”

“You’ve got to be nearly done, though. After this war ends...”

“It is still too early to say.” He stopped by something that wasn’t a tent, but rather rough log walls with canvas stretched over the roof. Gryphons were hauling out crates and barrels and flying them to the Windrunner in a long stream of supplies. Gérard watched for a moment before addressing a blue gryphon overseeing the extraction, who was old enough for grey to start appearing in his fur. “Do we have enough to last the trip back?”

“Barely, sir. Kree made sure our supplies were kept topped off but I’d still be more comfortable with one last hunting pass.” He sounded tired and harried rather than annoyed, but he didn’t salute and he didn’t look at either of them.

“And foraging?” Rose wondered if Gérard had this particular encounter in mind, or if it was just a happy coincidence. “I’m only one pony so it doesn’t need to be much, but ponies can’t survive on meat.”

The gryphon turned his head to give her a flat, disbelieving look. “There is bread,” he said. “And rice. But fresh fruit - or even dried fruit - is in short supply and rationed.”

“And you will have to eat some meat,” Gérard murmured softly. “Sharing meat and salt is part of gryphon hospitality. No guest would refuse.”

Rose closed her eyes briefly. She had to focus on one issue at a time. “Bread and rice is fine,” she said. “But there should be clover and silverweed nearby, while you’re out hunting.” Those plants, at least, had Alce words.

“I will see that my hunters gather some.” Oddly, he seemed more relieved than annoyed, though perhaps it was because clover and silverweed didn’t cut into the gryphon food supply.

“Thank you.” She smiled at him, though it was possible he didn’t even recognise what that meant. Beaks just didn’t make that sort of expression.

He replied with a curt nod and switched his regard to Gérard. “Anything else, sir?”

“You know what you’re about, Master Telnion. Do what you think is necessary.”

“Yes, sir.” Telnion saluted, and they moved on.

Gérard said something before she could. “I am sorry. I should have mentioned it earlier. I did think of it, but other things drove it from my mind.”

“Kree?”

“Kree, and keeping you safe.” His tail flicked from side to side. “But -”

“Gérard,” she interrupted him. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m walking through a gryphon camp and I’m not afraid I’m going to be killed at any moment. You made that possible. Yes, the idea of eating meat makes me queasy but it’s not like it’s pony and it won’t really hurt me.”

It bothered her considerably more than she was admitting, but there was nothing Gérard could do about it other than feel bad. Yet it was considerably less disturbing than it would have been a month ago. Travelling with Gérard had made carnivory far less alien, and that left her with more mixed feelings than the idea of dinner itself.

“Well,” Gérard said after a moment. “To prevent any more surprises. The senior members eat together. Kree and Ganon will be there, Talons Alria and Kest, Captain Sekal and Master Talnion. And you and I.”

“At least I’ve already met most of them.” Though a dinner with Kree and Alria promised to be dismal. The others were at least indifferent to her, but those two were willing to kill. On the other hand, Gérard and Ganon between them would probably suppress any insults or sniping.

They resumed their stroll through the camp, and everywhere there were gryphons packing and bringing things to the Windrunner. He rarely commented on any of the work, just giving most of the gryphons a salute and a nod. Rose herself attracted a variety of looks, from the skeptical to the hateful to the hungry, as well as the occasional whispered comment. To their credit, the comments were restricted to the incredulous or disapproving rather than outright insulting.

Still, she was feeling drained again by the time they returned to the tent. And there was still at least a week of sail to go with those very same gryphons. Hopefully she could hide in the cabin. “It seemed like everything was going well. Everyone was busy, at least.”

“Yes. I think they are ready to leave.” He picked through the bundle of vellum on the desk. “Even with Kree’s aspirations there was little for them to do here.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready,” she admitted. “I do want to see Eyrie but...maybe under better circumstances.” She wanted to see Eyrie the same way Gérard did, why he loved it so, but that meant his company without the presence of gryphons like Kree. And she didn’t see how that would happen.

“Yes.” Gérard rubbed at his beak. “There are times when I resent the war more for the personal inconvenience than the great tragedy.”

“Which one is this?” She answered his raised eyebrow with a smile and he considered a moment.

“Both.”

It seemed gryphons kept the same hours as ponies, for dinner arrived just when she was expecting it. Ganon appeared at the entrance of the tent, and his strange, chilly whisper made her look up from her maps. “It is time to eat.”

Gérard put aside the last dregs of paperwork and stood, Rose following suit. She was half expecting another ride up to one of the raised platforms, but it was just a canvas pavilion not far from the tent. And it wasn’t the only one. There were perhaps a dozen more spread throughout the camp, and all of them bristling with gryphons. There was, as expected, the smell of cooking meat in the air but after her time with Gérard she was inured to it.

They were the last ones to the table at that particular pavilion, and Rose’s seat was between Gérard and Ganon. Despite how consistently disturbing Ganon’s voice and dead eyes were, she preferred him over the other possible neighbors. But oddly, they all seemed in a far better mood gathered around the table, with a full tankard at each place, even hers.

“So you were out there for a month, Gérard.” Sekal said. “Surely you have some good stories.”

“Fewer than you would think,” he replied dryly, lifting the tankard and taking a long drink from the spout-capped rim. “Unless you consider walking exciting.”

“Well, how’d you pick up her?” Sekal waved his own drink in Rose’s direction.

“She wandered onto the aftermath of Kree’s bad idea,” Gérard said without any rancor. Across the table, Kree’s ears flicked but he didn’t protest. “And I was there. It is a good thing, too, for she is a navigator, and this land is all but trackless. It has even tried to kill us.”

“Surely it can’t be that bad,” scoffed the one gryphon she hadn’t met before, Kest.

“This is not Eyrie.” Gérard’s voice was mild. “Rose might be able to explain it better. They are pony lands, after all.”

She blinked. Though she really hadn’t intended to intrude on the gryphon’s conversation, she knew when to take a cue. “I don’t know what the Eyrie is like, but this isn’t just wilderness. There were peoples here, civilizations, I don’t know how many, before us. And the land itself has so much magic. Scarlet once told me that when the demon of discord broke the world, this part healed oddly.” Every eye was on her, sharp predator’s gazes that were difficult to meet. “Either way, yes, the land might try and kill you. Or help you. Or talk to you. There’s no telling.”

“That might explain that one storm,” Sekal said thoughtfully. “The wind was completely wrong.”

“I’m not sure how much credence I give this, but it would make some of what we have seen on the front make more sense. We had attributed it to pony magic, but…” Talnion clicked his beak.

“Some of it probably was. Some of it…” She shrugged. Princess Celestia had some very talented battlemages and illusionists on the front lines. Rose certainly had no idea what they were up to. Kree opened his beak to say something, but closed it again as the food arrived.

A gryphon landed with a small wheeled service cart, with plates and bowls crowded into the trays. He pushed it around the pavilion, giving each of them a steaming bowl of stew and a small plate with a single piece of raw meat. Except for Rose, whose bowl was not of stew, but of grilled wild mushrooms and onions. She stared, at least until the meat was put in front of her.

The food gryphon finished by putting a small pot of coarse grey sea salt in the middle of the table, and Gérard gave him a nod. “Thank you, Kirr. Kree, if you would?”

Kree shot Gérard a look, but stirred in his seat. “Attend,” he said, lifting his plate. “With this meat we must pay our respects to the hunters, whose time and risk puts food on our plates. And we must pay our respects to the prey, whose lives are given to feed us.” His words were measured, cadenced. Formal.

He lowered the plate and picked up the salt pot. “Three grains of salt,” he said. “One for honor, which reminds us there is more to everything we do than the needs or desires of any single gryphon. We fulfill our honor to Aquila, to the clan, and to ourselves.” He plucked a grain of salt from the pot and dropped it onto the meat with a practiced finesse. “One for duty, which guides us when the path is difficult or uncertain. Our duty to Aquila, to the clan, and to ourselves. And one for obligation, which sets out the paths we may take. Our obligations to Aquila, to the clan, and to ourselves.” He dropped the other two grains on the meat with each passage, and then snapped down the slice in one bite.

Kree passed the salt to his right, to Talnion, who repeated the transfer of the three grains. “Honor, duty, obligation.” He said, passing the salt on before downing his own piece. And so it went around the table, each repeating the gesture, until it got to her.

She hadn’t intended to use her magic if she could help it, given Gérard’s first reaction to it, but salt grains were far too fine for her hooves to handle. Perhaps an earth pony could have managed it, but she was used to having her horn for finesse. She levitated three grains from the pot, putting them on her slice of meat with proper words. Honor, duty, obligation. Then, before she could think too much about it, she picked up the slice and put it into her mouth.

And chewed.

The texture was certainly nothing special, but the taste wasn’t nearly as bad as she thought it would be. In fact it was quite bland, only reminding her vaguely of certain kinds of mushrooms she’d had, and of course thoroughly salty. She swallowed against a wave of nausea and pushed the salt to Gérard.

He gave her a flicker of a wink before following suit with the ceremony himself, the last one. That seemed to be all, for the gryphons reached for either their stew or their drink. Rose hastily grabbed her own tankard and took a few healthy swallows of the contents. Then wheezed, because the contents were fairly potent and fairly bad beer.

Talnion barked a laugh. “Hah! She did it! Pay up, Alria.”

She clicked her beak. “Fine. After dinner.”

Rose wheezed again and caught her breath. “Did you...bet on me?”

“Of course!” Talnion was pleased. “And I won. I know Gérard, after all.”

“Ah,” she said faintly, breathing slowly and evenly and trying to forget what she’d just swallowed. But she was pleased that someone at least had faith in Gérard, even if it was only to win a bet on her.

It seemed that the single slice, at least, was staying down, so she pulled her bowl of proper pony food closer. She was a bit befuddled by the pair of sticks that accompanied it, but the mushrooms and onions seemed perfectly fine. “I’m surprised,” she confided in Gérard. “I didn’t know any gryphons would cook pony meals.”

“Kirr strives quite hard. What is important to him is that you are a guest, so he does his utmost. That is all any of us can do.”

Comments

[AppleTank]

1) why is this comment section so empty?
2) So, Ganon is a sociopath, knows it, and afraid of himself? I really like the characters you have made here, though not much on the other guys yet.

[FireclawDrake]

I'm very sad that this stayed in my "Read Later" box for so long, Daetrin. Personally my favourite of your stories was not Apotheosis or Triptych, but has always been Off the Edge of the Map. I feel like you really capture the strangeness of the Wilds in that story and you've mirrored it here as well. The ancient ruins with the snake, the anger of the River, the fiery Timberwolves.

I always felt disconnected a bit with your Twilight, Luna, and Celestia in Apotheosis and Triptych because of their massive levels of power. Which is fine - that level of power should feel alien. At the same time, Rainbow and Fluttershy felt so very small in a massive, alien world.

Still more, the subtlety of your characters in both Off the Edge and this story is breathtaking. It caught me a little by surprise at the end of Off the Edge when there was just a touch of romance, but when I re-read it, I could see the seeds of it. The same applies here, except now I fear my brain keeps wanting to put Gerard and Rose together. I doubt that is the endgame for this story though.

Anyway, I'm rambling at this point. Your writing is gripping, your characters are deep and complex, and your plot is simultaneously world-spanning and deeply personal. I'll reiterate how sad I am that this lingered in my Read Later for so long, but also how hard it is that now I have to wait for updates!

[Daetrin]

5436271 Ganon is certainly something, though I'd hesitate to put a label on it. Even a simple concept like 'sociopath' probably doesn't get a non-human psychology in a magical world quite right.
5436480 Off The Edge Of The Map was closer to pure adventure than the other two. Apotheosis turned into a character study; Triptych was an exploration of divinity. Cartography is back to something closer to simple adventure, though in this case it's clearly a lens through which to understand ponies and gryphons as cultures and societies. That meshes better with the adventure (and other threads) since the main issue with gods as characters is that they're gods. They struggle a bit differently.

[FireclawDrake]

5437545 Hopefully it didn't come across as me disliking Apotheosis or Triptych - they also are very good. I just like your adventure stories more. In many wilderness adventures, the danger feels contrived - something that exists just to drive conflict. In your stories - instead of taking away from the setting - the dangers add to the alien and magical nature of the world. That's not an easy thing.

I have wanted to go and re-read Celestia's "conversation" with the late Aquila in Triptych to see if it'll grant any insights to this particular story.

(Edit: Went back and did just that. So Aquila must already be dead in this story, given that he died "over a thousand years ago". I wonder if he was killed by Nightmare Moon.)

Anyway, just wanted to say how much I enjoy your work. Keep writing and I'll keep reading. :)

[Daetrin]

5437876 Don't read too much into the thousand-year thing. Aquila is still alive at this point and will show up in the story.

[Scarheart]

I wonder what would have happened if the griffon had been led by Rose to a pony camp...

Very good writing, as always. This story is a treat to read.

[Cerulean Voice]

Rose's interactions with these gryphons have gone down extremely well, all things considered. I liked the fight with Kree, how it was over quickly and decisively yet didn't feel anticlimactic at all.

I'm now just waiting for someone to say the single wrong thing... maybe Ganon will snap at something?

You've got a few parts in here where you derped your dialogue punctuation, and some isolated formatting errors, but nothing too jarring. As usual, an absorbing read, fascinating character development and interactions, and I await further updates.

[Siiver7]

Ooof, finally caught up. Yet kinda sad that I did -- no more binge reading the story drenched in awesomesauce

Well, honestly that went a LOT better than I expected. I expected a ton of awkwardness and caution as she hesitates to lift the meat into her mouth -- instead, she just ripped off the giant bandage!

And the gryphons seem to be warming up. That's never a bad thing :P

Of course, when they set sail and reach their destination, things are gonna go DOOOWWWN~ (oh snap )

On a more serious note, I absolutely praise your writing -- every word, punctuation, and phrase has great reason, and there's no unnecessary or bland filler. Everything that happens has a purpose and meaning as far as I can tell.

KEEP IT UP! SPARE NO TIME IN PRODUCING THIS EXCELLENCE!

[Fox]

5437545 I absolutely love this story. Everything I've read from you was excellent, and this is head and shoulders above even that; I don't think I've ever been so immersed.

I think I'll try to make an Amazon account to check out your novel, now.

[Posted]

Do we ever get any of the reasons (world building) for this situation to even exist? I admit to getting pretty bored after the first few chapters with everything being arbitrary so far.

[TheLastBrunnenG]

There are time when I resent the war

times

[TheGrandNil]

5436271
not a sociopath... ASPD is where you are acutely aware of social cues, but are un-touched by emotional baggage.

If he was a sociopath, then he would understand the diffrence between vengance and justice, just would not care.

[TheGrandNil]

5553320
ok retard