At first blush it seemed like it would be a good morning; the sky over Canterlot was clear, the sun was bright, and Lord Greycrest was in a pleasant mood. Even the house staff was doing exactly as they were supposed to do without having to be told a thing. It was one of those rare mornings where everything was running like clockwork, exactly how the old griffon liked it.
After a quick shower and a preen he walked down the stairs to the solarium. The pony chef was already standing at the side of the room after setting out his meal, including a thick helping of ham and eggs. To her credit, the chef no longer seemed to be bothered by the meat on his plate at every meal, and she had mastered preparing it in all respects. It was far more than he had expected from a pony, let alone an earth pony, but he had made sure to reward her with a few extra bits in her pay.
He was just about to sit down when there came a pounding at the front door, loud enough to echo all the way to the back of the house. Greycrest frowned at that, glancing at the clock on the wall, it was too early for anyone reasonable to come calling. His thin panther tail flicked in annoyance at the intrusion into his routine.
Across the house he heard the butler open the door and speak to whomever was on the other side. Which was followed by a familiar voice demanding to see him. With a sigh, the griffon resigned himself to a cold meal later in the morning. “You may let him in to see me,” he called out.
A few moments later a very flustered looking Prince Blueblood walked into the room, a deep frown on his lips and his blond mane out of place. It was not a look one often saw on the unicorn; whatever his reason for the early morning visit it must have been truly serious.
“What is wrong?” he asked, not quite snapping out the words.
“This just came from Auntie this morning. She is going to deliver it to parliament this afternoon,” he said, pulling a scroll out of someplace in his mane and floating it over. He was trying and failing to compose himself as he did so, his eye twitching slightly.
Greycrest raised an eyebrow as he plucked the scroll from the prince’s magic, wondering what in the world Princess Celestia could do that would concern him, let alone send Blueblood to him in such a state. While she was an effective leader, she did that by being calm and collected in her every action, and always presenting herself as if she had a plan at all times. She didn’t go around being rash like some of the younger princesses.
He unrolled the scroll, squinting a little to read it without his glasses. It was an official declaration of a new treaty between Equestria and the Griffon Kingdom. A treaty that would… he paused and reread it again, holding the parchment closer to ensure that the words said what he feared they said. “What on heaven and earth does that senile mare think she is doing?” he asked in awe, looking back at Blueblood.
“Taking over your country,” the prince explained.
His gaze moved between the stallion and the parchment, his mind refusing to believe it even as he read it for a third time. He had no idea who this Gilda was, let alone why she was signing away their country or being called a princess. If it was true—and how could it be—it was treason, there was no other word for it. The idea that some upstart hen with delusions of grandeur just… declaring herself a princess! Why, the whole idea was absurd, yet somehow Princess Celestia had fallen for it.
There were many things he could ignore about living in Equestria, the lack of decent butchers, the constant singing, and even the lack of any sort of sane fiscal policy, but not this. This was an affront to his history, his family name and his dignity—as well as that of every other griffon. He was the ambassador damn it! He was the one who was supposed to negotiate treaties.
Carefully he rolled the scroll back up and sat it on the table next to his meal. “I must speak with Princess Celestia before she delivers this. This cannot stand!”
“I’ll arrange for it,” Blueblood said with a slight bow of his head before rushing back out of the room.
Closing his eyes, Greycrest rubbed the back of one foreclaw against his keel. He had to put a stop to this before it got out of claw. “Edmund!” he bellowed out, the cry echoing sharply through the whole of his large manor.
It only took a few moments for his son to arrive in the solarium. The young griffon must have been up for a while as his dark brown feathers and black fur had been properly groomed and preened. “Yes Father?”
“You are to leave for Griffonstone immediately. You are to find out who this upstart princess is and tell her that I will be coming to deal with her personally,” he ordered.
His son cocked his head slightly to one side. “I don’t understand, what princess? And you always said we were never to go to Griffonstone, that it was a waste of stone and wood.”
“The situation has changed,” the elder griffon snapped. “You must go on the first train and find out who this hen is and where she came from. I want to know everything about her when I confront her about this insanity.”
“Sir?” he asked, confusion on his face.
He snorted into the air. “Yes. Yes, I will not let this stand. No hen is going to take over the Kingdom, not while I’m around.” A low growl was rising up from deep inside his feline half. “You will find this hen, find out who she is! Then I will come down on her with beak and talons for having the audacity to crown herself princess and give away our country!”
Never mind the fact that he hadn’t even bothered to put a single feather into the Kingdom for the majority of his life. It was a horrible place that was just one good riot away from burning to the ground. That wasn’t the point.
“I don’t understand, what hen are you speaking of?” Edmund asked.
“The one calling herself princess, the one who is giving our home away to the ponies,” Greycrest snapped.
A few moments passed, and Edmund was still standing inside the doorway, which was not what needed to be done. “Did you hear me? Are your ears full of feathers? GO!” he bellowed with the full force of his large lungs.
His son scrambled away as fast as his feet could carry him.
The griffon was left standing alone in the solarium, ignoring the chef that was still standing off to the side of the room. The pony was looking very intently at the far wall with her ears pinned to the side of her head. She knew better than to speak about anything that had just happened.
Greycrest looked back at his food and let out a disgusted sigh. “Take this away Apple Cobbler, I no longer have an appetite.”
“Yes, sir,” the mare said, moving quickly to take his plate and whisking away. He didn’t see where she had taken it, instead he calmly launched himself into the air, flying through the house and up the stairs to the master suite. If he was going to pay a visit to the princess, he was going to look the part of the ambassador he claimed to be.
No matter how angry he was, or how insulted he felt, even Greycrest knew better than to throw open the doors to the throne room and march inside—no matter how much he wanted to. To any other pony it would have been a show of power, one that would help swing the balance in his direction and put them off hoof, but the princess was not so easily swayed by such theatrics. Instead, he waited just outside the imposing doors for the guards to properly announce him, allowing him a few moments to contemplate how he was going to deal with the situation.
He was dressed for the occasion in a high collared white jacket that contrasted with the tan of his feathers. A row of bronze buttons ran down his chest, each one having been polished to the point where they were almost glowing. A number of small medals were pinned to the jacket; most of them stood for very little but they helped make him look imposing. He even wore the dark red shoulder cords that represented his honorary rank in the Kingdom’s army, or would have if it still existed.
Finally, the doors opened, and one of the identical guards motioned for him to enter. He strode into the throne room, head held high and wings fluffed out slightly over his back. His eyes locked upon Celestia. The mare was sitting upon her throne reading a document that was being held in the glow of another unicorn’s magic.
She made a point of ignoring Greycrest for a few more moments as she picked up a quill and signed the parchment. With one more look she returned the quill to the inkwell. “Leave us,” she instructed.
The unicorn mare nodded, taking the papers and inkwell in her magic as she left out a small side door. At the same time the guards standing on either side of the throne room door stepped outside, closing them in their wake.
Unexpectedly, he found himself alone with Celestia. This was something he had not prepared himself for.
“You seem rather troubled,” Celestia said, a hint of a smile fluttering at the corner of her lips.
“That is putting it mildly,” he replied, pulling his wings down against his back as he stood his ground under the weight of her attention. “What do you think you are doing in the Griffon Kingdom? What right do you have to make it a part of Equestria, let alone to make some random hen the new leader of my country? The very idea of it is so absurd, I would think it came from that pet dragon thing you keep.”
“Really?” she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.
He snorted, his wings flexing against his back but he refused to let them open. “Is that all you have to say? You went into my country, my home, and appointed a new leader. You have no right, no matter what silly law you think you are following, you do not have the right!” he slammed a foreclaw against the marble floor. It was supposed to emphasize his statement, but all it did was hurt his talons.
Greycrest gave her a moment to respond, but she sat as motionless as a statue. Undaunted he continued. “Whoever this Gilda is, she has no right or heritage to be any sort of princess. She is a fake, a fake you’re trying to put on the throne. I will not stand for it. I’m the ambassador for the Griffon Kingdom, if you wished some agreement then you need to go through me, not just show up and make a fool of yourself!”
An amused smile crossed over Celestia’s face as she rose from her throne. “Tell me Lord Greycrest, you say that the Griffon Kingdom is your home, but you were born in Equestria, as were your parents. You have never lived in the Kingdom, in fact I doubt you have spent more than a fortnight there in your entire life. To call it your home is a grand exaggeration.”
He tried not to react, but still winced at the truth of her words. “Where I was born does not change my home,” was about all he could think of to counter her.
“Yes, I suppose there is some truth to that,” she said as slowly walking down the few steps from the throne to loom above him. He wanted to fan out his wings and try to make himself look bigger, but he held it back. If it was to be a contest of intimidation she would easily win; her wings were far larger than his.
Celestia continued speaking. “But when it comes to the statement that you are the ambassador for the Griffon Kingdom, there is no truth to it at all. Your grandfather was the ambassador, appointed to serve in Equestria by King Guto himself. But once he died your family moved all their wealth to your estate here, and never returned. A fortune of well over a million talons. What is that now worth? Ten bits, maybe even twelve?”
He wanted to tell her off for insulting his family, but he still held his beak. Partly out of respect for the princess but mostly because she was right. He still had quite a few talons tucked away in the family vault, but no one accepted them anymore. They were worthless as currency.
“Assuming that the title of ambassador has become hereditary, one must ask what government you are the ambassador for? Because by all measures there hasn’t been one in your lifetime. You can stand here and pound the floor as much as you would like, but it will change nothing. Gilda was King’s Regent by your own laws—“
“Pinfeathers! Not one member of Council of Nobles voted to—“
The princess interrupted his interruption. “That is because none of the griffon nobles living in Equestria are on the Council. In fact, there are no longer any nobles left to sit upon it. To a one you have all forfeited your claim to your titles and lands. I’m sorry Greycrest, but you do not have a single feather left to protest this.”
He narrowed his eyes, glaring up at the mare. “Princess Celestia, you are not known for being stupid. So I must wonder what fever has overtaken your mind to spout such nonsense.”
That must have touched a nerve as she glared intently down at him, fire starting to dance in her eyes. “Gilda was made regent, and it was with that authority she signed the treaty that made her a princess. If you wish to protest, I would suggest you fly to Griffonstone as fast as you can, as it was ratified yesterday.”
Greycrest’s eyes bugged out. “By whom?”
“By those who have the power to do so. If you wish to know more you should go back to ‘your home’ and find out for yourself. But know this Lord Greycrest, the treaty is binding. In three days, at the height of the sun, the Griffon Kingdom will become a part of Equestria, and Princess Gilda will be its leader. There will be a great deal of work to rebuild the country into something other than the broken pit that and your fellow nobles were content to leave it.”
His wings ruffled and rose up over his back as he clawed his talons at the marble floor. “I will take this to the parliament, you cannot—“
Celestia was suddenly standing nose to beak with him, her eyes alight with flame as they locked with his and her horn hovering just inches over his head. The shock of the move caused him to fan his wings out as wide as they would go, his tail fluffing out behind him even as he felt himself sinking towards the floor.
“When it comes to the borders of Equestria, the first charter grants the royalty the final and only say,” Celestia said, like she was explained to a child. “The parliament can protest all it wants, but they are powerless to change that and they know it. I can and will do this, and if you have an issue with it then you must take it up with Princess Gilda. If you are nice to her maybe she will allow you to keep the title you are so impressed by. Now, you are dismissed,” she stated, then turned away from him and started back to her throne.
“But—“
“You are dismissed!” she snapped. “You will remove yourself from the palace or I will have the guards do it for you.”
Greycrest stared up at her, searching for anything he could say to try and change her mind. She looked back down at him as she sat on her throne, her eyes filled with anger. Slowly he closed his wings and turned to walk out of the throne room. The Princess might think she had the authority to do something so audacious as this, but he was sure that the parliament would have something to say about it. And even if they did not, there were other avenues to pursue.
This would not be allowed to happen. Not as long as he could do anything to prevent it.