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// Griffons on the Streets 
// Story: The 8th Rank 
// by Winter Quill 
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When there were a hundred griffons crammed into a train car made for a hundred ponies, there was very little in the way of comfort or tail room. By the time night had fallen, every creature inside was tired of the cramped quarters. The air was heavy with cast off down and there was a thick scent of dirt and sweat that covered every surface. All the windows had been opened to try and allow some ventilation of the stale air, and while it helped a little, it had also brought in some of the smoke from the engine that was pulling them along.
 
Edmund was thankful for the extra space on his bench, it allowed him enough room to lie down, which gave him a chance to try and sleep, but that only came in fits and starts. There was no peace to be found on the train, there was always the noise of griffs growling at each other for getting in the way, or a few shouts now and then. It was only the lack of room that prevented any fights from breaking out.
 
The only creatures who got any sleep were the two reporters, and only because each unicorn knew how to cast a spell to encase themselves in silence. A spell that was only large enough for one pony to use.
 
The situation didn’t improve once the sun rose. Everything in the train car felt like it was covered in a layer of grime. It soaked into Edmund’s feathers and fur and left him wishing for a shower, but all he could do was wait in misery along with every other griff on the train. The last few hours of the trip seemed to take a lifetime, the train was slowing down as it laboriously climbed up into the mountains.
 
After what seemed like a lifetime, the train finally made it to its destination.
 
Seconds after the train came to a stop in the station, someone opened the door and they all poured out onto the platform. Edmund quickly threw his bag over his back and followed the crowd, glad to finally have reached Griffonstone.
 
That was the moment he realized that while the station may have been named after the town, the town itself was nowhere near the station. In fact, there was nothing near the station other than a second dead-end track and a large water tower being fed by the glaciers high in the mountains above them.
 
Almost every griffon that had been with him on the train was in the same state of shock, only a few taking to the air to make the flight up towards the city proper. A number of others rushed the pony station master, demanding to know how they were supposed to get to the town. The answer was a laugh and a hoof pointed up the trail.
 
“It seems we have a long walk ahead of us,” Linotype said, looking up at the trail winding its way into a narrow canyon.
 
“I fear this is where we must part ways,” Edmund told the two reporters, fanning out his wings.
 
Linecast nodded her head as she stepped away from the griffon. “I’m sure we’ll run into you again once we reach town. Before that we need to arrange to send a message back on the return train.”
 
He grunted and gave them a nod before he joined the flock of griffons flying to the city. In retrospect, he feared he had told the pair far more than he should have, and he wanted to get away from them before they came up with even more questions that he had no wish to answer.
 
The train station quickly fell away under his talons. The train was still unloading, griffons flowing out of it like ponies out of a clown cart. He had never seen so many griffs together in one place, and he didn’t really understand why they were all there. Yes, the news was shocking, but was it a reason to run back to Griffonstone? Why would so many griffons want to be there right now? He just didn’t understand it.
 
Still pondering that, he flew up into a flock of a hundred or so griffons, all of them moving together to push against the cold winds that swept down from the mountains behind the city. It was the hardest flight Edmund had taken in years; his wings ached as he pushed against the thick air. At the same time, he found himself constantly shifting around in the flock as every griff fought for position, trying to have an easy flight.
 
Edmund hadn’t been sure what he had expected from the seat of power for The Griffon Kingdom. He knew that it was going to be bad, but as the flock crested the final ridge to bring Griffonstone into view, he realized he had underestimated just how bad it would really be.  
 
The very first thing he saw was the massive stone tree that hung over the town. He wasn’t sure if it had been carved out of stone, or was a gigantic tree that had become petrified millions of years before, but it was huge. It towered over the rest of the city, rising maybe a thousand feet into the air. There were small homes built onto every one of the twisted branches, many of them were in a state of serious disrepair if not completely burnt out.
 
Near the top, built in a wide fork of the tree, was what must have been the royal palace. It was a massive edifice, made up of a dozen towers of different sizes, the largest one rising up until it was above even the highest of branches. It looked to be built from marble, standing stark white against in pale blue sky. Clearly that was where he would find Princess Gilda, because where else would she be?
 
The closer he got to the city, the more he could see of the palace. The towers were lined with windows, but only a few of them were reflecting any light from the sun. The rest just seemed to be hollow, one tower had partly collapsed and there were soot marks rising up from many of the broken windows.
 
It was in terrible shape, and yet it seemed to be the nicest building in town. The rest of Griffonstone was built on a large plateau that abutted on the mountain range and was split down the middle by a massive canyon. Buildings stretched across it, though many of them had fallen into disrepair. The buildings at the edge of town must have been abandoned for years, maybe even decades; they were overgrown with moss and ivy and many had simply collapsed. Closer to the center of town the buildings were in somewhat better shape, even if nearly every one of them seemed damaged in some way. There was hardly an intact roof in sight. Yet, there seemed to be griffons living in each and every one of the buildings.
 
Anyplace to stay out of the weather had been turned into a nest.
 
A large semi-circular gate marked the entrance to the town proper. While it was in rough shape, it seemed to be still in one piece. Large wooden wings fanned out on each side, rising up around the arch. While faded, he could still see the paint on the wood, the dark red of the wings, the golden color of the arch itself and some blue highlights. It stood out against the bleakness of the rest of the city. It took him a few seconds to realize that it was in the Crest of the Royal Family. He had seen it all his life on the Royal Standard his father had hanging in his study.
 
Breaking away from the flock, Edmund allowed himself to glide towards the ground and came to a landing in front of the arch. He craned his head back to look at it. It felt strange to be standing there, like he was someplace eerily familiar. That was impossible, of course; he had never been there in his life, but he still felt it.
 
Up close, he could see the cracks covering the wood, and the rot running through it. The fact that it looked this good even without any griffon tending to it was a testament to the craftsmanship of the gate.
 
With a whoop, a young griff dived down and flew right through the gate, a second one following in his wake. A few others were flying over the top of it, all of them laughing and chatting with each other. They didn’t seem to care about the condition the city was in, they just seemed to be excited to be there.
 
Shaking his head, Edmund turned back so he could open his bags. Digging around, he pulled out a light-yellow vest, the edges trimmed with silver and gold wire. He slipped his wings through the open back and buttoned it closed over his keel, trying to smooth it out. The color looked terrible on him, and it was just a little bit too tight. He hated the damn thing with a passion and avoided unless he was doing something where he was officially representing his family. This was clearly something that qualified.
 
Pulling at the vest one more time, he walked through the gate and headed towards the center of town. It actually looked better from the ground where the damage was far less visible. Even so, it seemed that for every three buildings that were standing, another one had been reduced to a pile of rubble. A few griffons were trying to repair some of the smaller homes, but it felt like they were trying to use a thimble to drain a lake.
 
Edmund was halfway to the center of town when he spotted the first flag. It was hanging from the edge of a broken window, jutting out over the street. It was clearly claw made, with three dark blue gems on a tan background. The gems had been roughly cut from some other material, and were held in place by thick stitches. It was crude, but it was holding together.
 
Three blocks later he came upon the second flag. This one had once been the flag of the Griffon Kingdom, the material tattered and threadbare around the corners. It had the familiar fanning wings—in red, just like the gate—but the crown at the center had been sloppily covered with the silhouette of a griffon head. A third flag was on a house across the street, this one made up of a white, tan and purple strip laid out horizontally. Claw made, just like all the others.
 
Finally, he made it to a square at the center of town, a square which was flooded with griffons. He had thought the train had been filled to the breaking point, but it was nothing compared to this. There was hardly any space to move between them, thousands all pressed together. They were perched on a dead tree near the center of the square and around many of the damaged and broken buildings that surrounded it.
 
A general murmur of conversation filled the crowd, but the majority of attention was focused on a squat shop at the side of the square. It looked in better shape than all the others, though with the broken windows that every building had. The roof was clear of griffons as well, leaving it strangely empty compared to the rest of the area.
 
Somegriff must have been inside since smoke was curling up from a chimney in the back.
 
“What’s going on over there?” he asked one of the closer griffons.
 
The large tom snapped his head around to glare at Edmund. “Fuck you,” he said with a grunt. Then, with a huff, he started to walk away, pushing through the crowd that didn’t want to part for him.
 
Edmund watched the griffon go; clearly all the newcomers to town were not very welcome. He turned to ask another griffon, only to discover that they had all moved away from him, giving him almost a full wing of empty space around himself.
 
“Great,” he said with a sigh. “This is going to be a real pain in my flank.”
 
“What, you expected anything in Griffonstone to be easy?” someone asked from behind him.
 
He turned around to face the source of the voice. He wasn’t surprised to find that it was a griffon, but he was shocked by his appearance. He was bright blue, with a tan belly and yellow highlights to his crest. His first thought was that it wasn’t actually a griffon, but a pony pretending to be one, but he quickly pushed that thought away. That was a spell only the princesses could do, and they wouldn’t do it for a random pony. This clearly was a griffon, even if he didn’t look like one.
 
The griffon rolled his eyes. “Get a good enough look yet? Want me to spin around so you can see my ass as well?”
 
Edmund shook his head, “No, no. Sorry. I’ve only ever seen ponies with such vibrant…” a glare from the other griffon made him rethink what he was saying “You’re very unique.”
 
That made him snort. “Yeah, well, unique is worth about as much as nobles around here,” the griffon replied, shooting a nasty look back at the crowd.
 
“So, what’s going on over there? Why is everygriff so interested in it?” he asked, motioning with a talon towards the building in question.
 
The young griff rolled his eyes. “Eh, that’s where Gilda is held up. They are all waiting for her to come out and make a proclamation or something. Frankly, it’s just embarrassing to watch. She’s not going to tell them anything until the pony princesses show up tomorrow.”
 
Edmund narrowed his eyes; this was something he hadn’t heard about yet. “The princesses are coming here?”
 
The young tom shrugged. “That’s what their letter said, I ignored most of it as it was boring.”
 
“I see,” he replied, not really seeing it at all. He supposed there was some logic to Princess Celestia and Luna coming to oversee the takeover of Griffonstone. It would make his job harder; he could hardly learn more about Gilda if she had the other princesses around her. It wasn’t like he could just go up and say hello to her. He needed a way to get closer to her so he could find out what his father wanted to know… whatever that was. He still wasn’t really clear on exactly what his father wanted him to do other than find out who Gilda was.
 
In truth, he hadn’t planned any further than getting to Griffonstone, and had no idea how to proceed now that he was here. He hadn’t even had anything to eat since leaving Baltimare, and he was starting to get hungry. “Is there any place to eat around here?”
 
“If you can take it, you can eat it,” the blue griffon said with a shrug of his wings.
 
“Ah,” he replied with a sigh, glancing around the damaged buildings. Edmund doubted there was a hotel either, and he was going to need a place to stay. “Well, do you at least know anygriff willing to rent a room for a few days?”
 
A smile pulled over the colorful griffon’s beak. “You got the bits, I can get you a place to lay your head. Though you need to get rid of the damn jacket, makes you look like a noble.”
 
Edmund looked down at the vest, then quickly glanced around the rest of the crowd. Only a few griffons were wearing clothing, and it wasn’t very formal looking. Slowly he started to undo the buttons as he followed his new friend through the square.
 



 
The drone was perched on the edge of one of the many broken roofs, looking down over the crowd of griffons in the square below. They were pressed in almost shoulder to shoulder, yet they were not fighting each other. They were just waiting. The anticipation was hanging so heavily in the air that he was sure every creature could taste it.
 
There were many other emotions mixed in as well, allowing him to eat his fill without any fear of discovery. It was just empty calories. They filled his belly for the moment but wouldn’t hold him over in the long run. Not like love or affection; those could feed a ‘ling for days.
 
He had no idea why the crowd was there, or what they were all waiting for. He wasn’t even supposed to be in the city; his griffon disguise was poor and wouldn’t hold up to close scrutiny, but he could taste the emotions leagues away. It was a feeling that was growing with every griffon that arrived in town.
 
Something was coming, something that was beyond his understanding. Even so, he knew what he had to do. Fanning out his wings, he leapt in the air; the buzz of insect wings followed in his wake, but the griffons below were too distracted to notice it. Banking to the south, he headed back to the hive.
 
The Queen would know what to do. The Queen always knew.