“Oh, you don’t call them that,” Velar said, raising his voice a little. “You’re so good at the act. But when it comes right down to it, don’t the pegasus ponies end up a lot like citizens in Equestria? They sit on their clouds, with the easiest jobs making weather and things… then there are the free people, you unicorns. You’re the scholars, priests, skilled laborers. Then the worst jobs… farming, ditch digging, drawing water… that’s for the earth ponies. Your slaves. It’s basically the same system, isn’t it? You’ve just found a more… bureaucratically advanced way to manage them. Instead of being formally owned, your slaves are trapped by their living expenses and their cutie marks. I don’t see what makes your way any better than ours.”
“You really think…” Starlight opened and closed her mouth several times, struggling to find words. Velar’s argument was so patently absurd to her, she almost didn’t even know where to begin. So instead of looking for all the problems, she tried to find any way he might be right. What would a predatory bird see and look at as proof that ponies and birds weren’t different?
“Not all earth ponies do work like that. They can—”
Velar raised his voice again. “Oh, I didn’t know earth ponies could make weather.”
She blinked, stammering. “I-I mean… earth ponies can…”
“Cast spells?” Velar interrupted again. “I know you don’t allow the Old Magic. No blood spells for Equestria, you’re much too civilized for that. So only unicorns can do that. And if I remember my research… Princess Twilight was raised from a unicorn, and Cadance from a pegasus. Can’t help seeing a pattern there.”
Velar laughed then, touching her lightly on her shoulder with a wing as though they had been pleasantly joking with each other this whole time. “I don’t mean to argue with you, Starlight Glimmer. I don’t think it’s wrong that ponies organize their society. It’s proof to me that you’re civilized.
Starlight Glimmer shivered involuntarily as he said it, backing away another step. “Th-that… that point of view isn’t going to convince the ponies of Equestria. Even knowing you don’t have pony slaves won’t be enough forever.”
Velar shrugged. “We never expected ponies to transform yourselves into birds, Starlight. Do you honestly think ponies will expect us to do the reverse?”
Yes, Starlight thought, though she didn’t say so. When she thought about it like that, it sounded absurd. But that wasn’t the way ponies had ever seen it, and that didn’t seem likely to change.
“I’m just glad I’m not the one who has to make decisions like that,” Starlight finally said. “Equestria has princesses for that. All I have to do is what they tell me. I’ll never have to worry about being in charge.”
Velar shrugged. “It has advantages. And disadvantages, like birds trying to kill you. Guess pony succession doesn’t involve much assassination either.”
“Not anymore,” Starlight said, though she didn’t get a chance to continue. The sound of a bell echoed from within the building behind them, signifying the end of the first session. “They’ll want me,” Starlight said. “I’m only here as an advisor, and…”
Velar waved one wing. “Go on, then. Share all your secret knowledge about our ways. But don’t forget about your promise—I will be looking forward to that tour of Canterlot.”
Starlight found herself unable to meet the griffon’s eyes as she headed back into the palace.
Of course, calling it that was a tad generous just now—there was so much unfinished stone, and the whole structure looked barely stable enough to occupy. She had seen from the air that many of the upper levels were unfinished as well.
But considering they only had a month to build this, it seems to be coming along pretty well. Griffons didn’t have the new steel-frame construction methods being used in Manehattan—those innovations required resources the birds just couldn’t get in Equestria.
There were many ponies and birds packed inside—guards and advisors and ordinary citizens. Starlight teleported across the room in a series of short jumps, avoiding the densest crowds and searching out the biggest pocket of guards. She found her princesses in one quiet corner, conversing in hushed voices. The Solar Guard let her through without objection, even as they barred off all others.
All four of Equestria’s rulers were here, in various states of confusion. Starlight bowed to them all, though she directed her attention primarily on Twilight. Twilight Sparkle had been more closely involved with this negotiation than anypony else—Celestia and Luna were occupied with keeping the climate stable, while Cadance’s northern land was already beginning to suffer as the climate changed. Even getting away for a single day was probably difficult for them.
“Was I right, Twilight?” she asked. “About their demands?”
Princess Twilight Sparkle nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly. “They want more than just hiring weatherponies. Some of the other cities want… want to send birds into Equestria.”
Starlight froze. Her mind immediately conjured an image of a tight flock, wings beating together as they closed in on some southern Equestrian city. Dodge Junction, perhaps.
“You don’t look like you thought about that.”
She nodded. “I haven’t, Princess.” She glanced around the room—there were many birds in here, though just as many slaves and servants. The earliest stipulations of the treaty had required that no pony slaves be kept once they entered Equestrian lands—but these were such a rare thing that it hadn’t been much to ask.
“Did they give a reason? Numbers, anything like that?”
Twilight nodded again. “Basically, that they have too many skilled workers and not enough for them to do. New Scythia was prepared to uproot its economy, but lots of the other cities weren’t. Lots of birds want to be able to fly north to practice their trades in Equestria—either to raise money, or to drive up interest for griffon goods.”
“We were eager to hear what you might think of such a possibility,” Luna said, obvious tiredness in her voice. But then, the night princess rarely sounded awake when the sun was up. “Whether or not we can trust individual griffons to keep to the terms of their agreements as well as the nation as a whole. Surely nopony would be happy to see so many strangers arriving in their cites… but the alternatives are worse if we refuse them.”
Nopony had to speak those out loud. Starlight could imagine them easily—if the birds really didn’t have enough work to do, then many of their citizens wouldn’t have the money to feed their families. Their nobility had stockpiled supplies, but no way they had enough to feed huge segments of a once-productive population.
Discontent and suffering in griffon lands would not directly impact ponies at first. But over time, it might leave the birds no recourse but to steal what they needed. Or worse, it might push their whole society towards war.
“It’s not individual birds that we should be worried about,” Starlight eventually said. “Free noncitizens are generally only trying to look out for their families. They’re living from one paycheck to the next, they don’t have huge stockpiles of wealth, and they don’t have much say in griffon society. Many of them aren’t even birds. I wouldn’t worry about any of these if they wanted to come and work—except that they might not want to come back.
“I do worry about citizens, though. They often own hundreds or thousands of slaves. I would worry about them sending their slaves north to work for lower wages than a pony could work, before sending all the money back to their master. The slaves don’t get to improve their station, and our own ponies might lose their jobs.”
Twilight and Celestia shared a meaningful glance. Celestia’s horn glowed faintly, and it seemed as though the sound around them abruptly faded. It was as though they had stepped into a quiet room.
Presumably that meant that anypony outside their little pocket of quiet wouldn’t be able to hear them either.
“I see a pattern forming,” Princess Celestia said, her voice sounding sad and distant. “The griffons may not be armed with superior weapons and airships… yet. But they are still an implacable enemy. I fear we may be sacrificing Equestria one hoofstep at a time. Each new compromise yields a little ground to the altar of greater cooperation with these birds, until it is too late to resist them if they change their minds.”
“I still think the best hope for a peaceful solution is to grant their request for weatherponies,” Cadance said. “The Accipian empire lives the way it does because they haven’t seen any other way. If we provide them that way—they may find they like it better.”
“Certainly,” Luna agreed. “But realities are fixed. Griffons will not gain more magic simply by living on our soil. They could not use it as the foundation for their society even if they wanted to.”
The conversation went on for a few minutes longer. Starlight couldn’t tell what Celestia would decide, though it seemed she grew more worried as the moments passed.
Though she couldn’t hear anything from outside the bubble, Starlight could see the moment when the meeting must have been reconvened, because traffic started moving back towards the audience chamber beyond. Celestia’s horn stopped glowing, and she said her farewells to the princesses.
A few hours later, and it was over. Starlight watched as the princesses flew back to their airship hovering in the sky, chariots rising rapidly away from the little griffon city.
Starlight remained on the ground, beside a small group of guards and the emperor’s delegation.
“It isn’t what we wanted.” Velar’s voice from behind her, so suddenly she nearly jumped. Probably would have, except that she was so used to that kind of behavior from him that she had trained herself not to react. That was what he wanted, and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“That’s how negotiation is meant to be,” she said, without turning around. “If either party is happy with the result, it means someone was treated unfairly. Compromise is what nopony wanted.”
The not-prince snorted with laughter. “Spoken like a pony if ever I heard it.” He emerged beside her, following her gaze up to the Stalwart Stratus. Already it was hard to see the four chariots as they neared it—though if the griffon’s massive flagship had still been up there, it would probably look like a child’s toy.
“Seriously though, birds are going to be upset about this. Barring slaves or anyone with slaves from working in Equestria—that’s almost every citizen in Accipio. Probably is every citizen.”
She shrugged. “I told you ponies wouldn’t see things the way you did. Besides, from what I saw of your census, it hasn’t restricted most of you. And the ones it has will be fine. Birds like you can still visit, anyway. You don’t know how big a compromise that is. A decade ago, nopony would’ve even considered it.”
Velar sighed. “I suppose it was wishful thinking that this treaty would be easy. Unity knew we couldn’t keep living here the same way we lived anywhere.”
Starlight hesitated. Then she leaned in a little closer to him, whispering. “If it really causes trouble, I could probably get them to renegotiate in a few months. Once we have lots of evidence to point to as reasons they should reconsider.”
Velar grinned. “I’ll let you know. You’re right that it won’t hurt most citizens. They’ll be sour they can’t send their slaves to work Equestrian markets, but I can’t imagine any of them going hungry. If they had the wealth to make it here with their households, they’ll have the wealth to keep surviving.”
The Stratus began to move. At this vast distance, its acceleration seemed slow, though she knew from experience it had one of the new impeller engines. It would be back in Canterlot before morning.
Without me on it.
As part of the treaty, an Equestrian embassy would be erected here in New Scythia. Starlight Glimmer had been given all the resources she needed to set it up. I wonder if Trixie would be willing to move down here for a while. I bet griffons would love her magic shows.
“Do you really think two hundred pegasus ponies will be enough?” Velar asked, interrupting her thoughts. “It was less than half of what we wanted.”
Starlight Glimmer didn’t want to give the honest answer—not when she knew it would bring no confidence to the not-prince. “Depends how good they are. If Celestia said they would send the best, I’m sure she meant it. It should be enough for New Scythia to change its climate, even if it isn’t enough for any of the other cities. But maybe the other clan lords will want to broker their own contracts with Equestria. Once they see how well it works down here…”
Velar laughed. “That depends on the first harvest. Lots of grain, happy livestock… maybe they’ll consider it. How often do crops fail in Equestria?”
They didn’t, but that was more than just weather. Earth ponies tending the fields, unicorns to cure blights before they got severe and to keep pests away… griffons simply couldn’t farm that way. “Never,” she said.
“Good.” Velar forced a smile. “How about some wine before you retire? You must be worn from a tough day of negotiating.”
“Sure,” she answered without thinking. “I might like that.”