The walls of the uninhabited canyon stretched upwards for miles. Jagged rocks jutted from the sides here and there. The sporadic nature of the rock walls made it impossible to pick any one point out. Even after staring at one side of the canyon for quite some time, the stallion still couldn’t remember any of the finer details. There was a rock there that looked like a rock. And another that was more of a boulder. Perhaps one of the slabs to his right appeared more stone like, but it was all the same to him.
His mind was made up. He would go home, as quickly as possible. However, the where he was, and the how to get there were unknowns that he did not have access to. The stallion lifted his head from the cold dirt beneath. His eyes looked down the path he had flown in from. He bit his lip in thought and nodded his head. His eyes closed and opened slowly once, as if to see if anything was really happening. After all, you only had to spend five minutes in Discord’s world to throw off your sense of reality. Sadly, his situation was all too real.
Damp breaths escaped his lips. Using his muscular legs, he pushed himself off of the ground and into the air with little effort. Still in thought, he twisted his neck in the other direction, looking towards the unexplored lands ahead. More rock, more canyon, more mountain. It was all the same to him.
He let his wings control themselves, flapping at a steady beat as he watched the earth around him. Wings were such an interesting feature on a pegasus. They were the most outstanding, often being the focal point on any pegasus body. Indicative of mood and other, deeper emotions, pegasi wings were thought to have a mind of their own. Often they would involuntarily flare up or droop down. Sometimes they would slowly vibrate at the pegasus’ side, twittering about in anticipation.
The stallion had learned over his years of flight training to control his wings to an extent. At least he was able to realize when they were acting on their own. He didn’t mind though. It was common with pegasi to think of their wings as friends. Someone they could communicate with while alone. It was a great coping mechanism for situations such as the one he was in now.
Finally making up his mind, he seized control of his body once more. A devilish smile bleeding across his lips, the newly determined stallion rushed onwards. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he knew he would get somewhere eventually. Somehow he’d make it home, even if he had to travel the entire world over.
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Fuzzy lights and static colors flooded into the eyes of one particularly hung over griffon. The cot she laid upon was old and rickety, and didn’t at all help with her sense of sight or balance. Unaware and half asleep, the griffon tumbled onto the floor. The loud thud on the wooden floor alerted the bartender to his occupant’s awakening.
His claw was wet from the condensation around his workplace, and it took him a few tries to successfully open the door. Once inside he was greeted with the fine image of an upside-down griffon on his floor. The bartender pressed the palm of his claw into his face and shook his head.
“What am I goin’ t’ do with you, lassie?” He groaned.
Gilda grasped at her ears, resulting in her falling all the way over onto her back. The sound of her body whacking against the floor was enough to make her cover her ears in pain. Her eyes squinted and shut repeatedly, failing miserably at adjusting to the light.
“Not so loud,” she whispered.
The bartender griffon raised a speculative eyebrow at his guest, “Get up ya cry baby!”
Gilda grimaced, but her ears were already as covered as they were going to get. The bartender would have none of it though, and walked over to her. Inhaling until his chest was bulging outwards, the bartender let loose a deafening scream.
“GET UP!”
The far from rejuvenated griffon jumped from her floor position into the air. Her limbs flailed about like cooked noodles in a hurricane until she finally hit the floor again.
“Jeez Kon, lay off. I’m not feeling well today,” Gilda complained.
“Shu’up Gilda. You’ve got yourself a nice job ‘ere. Don’ screw this one up, understand?” Kon ordered, handing over the same paper from the previous night.
The still stunned eagle-lion took the paper with intrigue. Her half shut eyes skimmed over it quickly, catching far more than they the last time.
Gilda did what she could to manage a sarcastic smirk, “A pony killed the king? You gotta be kidding me Kon. A lame pony couldn’t kill the king.”
“Well that’s what happened, so get on it.”
Kon stood firm on his mission, pointing Gilda to the door out. Gilda shot him a few looks of ‘oh really’ and ‘you’re joking’, but to no avail. With unfortunate resignation, Gilda shoved the paper in his feathers and headed for the door.
“Yer pick me up is under the counter on the left,” offered the bartender.
“Thanks Kondore, I promise not to come back without the bounty. I am the best after all,” Gilda bragged, waiting till she was out of sight to hold her head again.
Her headache wasn’t going to go away until she had her normal drink. It was an odd concoction, bubbly with an unexpected purple coloring. Gilda often asked her friend what was in it, but he would always refuse to tell, reminding her it was a family secret. She didn’t mind. Kondore was always there to fix it up for her whenever she needed it.
As it was, Kondore had always been there for her. She only had two good friends in her lifetime, and one of them never wanted to see her again. It was sad and she knew it, but she couldn’t get Rainbow Dash off of her mind. The last few months had been filled with fruitless attempts at destroying her memory. Eventually it all culminated in her drinking her problems away. Luckily for her, her other friend ran a bar.
Gilda hated to admit it, but she really was sad over losing Rainbow Dash. Kondore could see it, but he was…different. Anyone else who commented was likely to get socked in the face, twice. Showing signs of weakness in Griffhala would get a griffon killed quick. You make sure that you’re the toughest one in the room, and if you’re not, you at least make it look that way.
Gilda downed her special mix in one shot. Licking her lips, she could feel the rush of energy flow through her brain. Bright golden eyes unwrapped themselves to the pulsing of the drink. The condescending grin, trademarked by the griffon herself, flushed her face. Revitalized and rejuvenated, Gilda promptly strolled outside of the now darkened bar.
Although the sun shone ten times brighter than the lights in the bar, Gilda stepped outside perfectly adjusted. The drink restored her even past her normal functioning ability, and set her at her prime. The troubled griffon loved the rush, the feel, and even just the idea of operating at full power.
“Let’s do this,” she told herself.
Before another step could be made, Gilda was blown onto her back by a gust of wind. Dust and feathers scattered about as she stood back up. Shaking her head, Gilda looked for the source of the gust. Already out in the distance was an orange blur. It zigged and zagged around the rocks on the ground, flipping about as it sped through the air.
How dare that dweeb of a…thing, just push her like that. If it was a race it wanted, it would get a race. Pushing her job aside for the moment, she took off towards the blur. It had a good thirty or forty yards on her already, but that wasn’t an issue. Gilda was one of the fastest fliers she knew, save a few professionals. Even more so now that she was at her best. Her elegant eagle wings enjoyed large and building strides as they pushed her body forward.
Gilda’s beak turned up in anticipation, “You’re mine, loser.”
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Maxido loved the feeling of sitting on the throne. Physically it was rather uncomfortable. Made entirely of stone, the elderly chair wasn’t the pinnacle of places to sit. Still, it made his cold and calculating heart bubble with joy. The warm blood pulsed from his still beating heart to the rest of his body indefinitely.
He had so much more than the king did now. He had his throne. He had his crown. He had his people, his country, and his power. But what’s more, he had vitality and indeed, blood. These were things the late king Griffax no longer owned. This made Maxido happy.
All of his guards were out and about, knocking on doors, placing wanted posters around the many towns of Griffhala. He knew it would take the guards a long time to accomplish their task, given the size of the country. Griffhala was roughly five billion square miles of mountainous terrain. Scattered across the vast expanse were towns and cities, filled with griffons and some other acceptable species. Griffons weren’t best known for their kindness or hospitality, and their rough demeanor and tough military outlook didn’t exactly scream ‘Come live here!’ As such, the main immigrants to the badlands were wanted criminals or ostracized members of other countries.
Maxido himself never minded the negative culture of his people and the others living here. After all, even for the native griffon kind you had to fight to live. Mountains weren’t the greatest source of food for a population as large as the griffons. Although spread out, their food was still scarce. Many griffons would fly over the nearby ocean, known mainly as the Ocean of Dreams. It existed as bounty of fresh food, coming in the form of gigantic fish. The journey was great, but so was the reward, which is why most griffons would work in one of the big fishing companies.
As he contemplated his next political move, Maxido twirled one of the king’s glasses in his claw. The king, or rather, the previous king had all the food he could ever dream of. He imported it from the surrounding countries, such as Equestria and Koerstad. Large and small businesses throughout Griffhala enjoyed similar privileges, importing other goods for selling, but the prices were always far too high for the average consumer. Tariffs and taxes were among the first things that he planned to cut. In fact, Maxido even considered importing all of these goods for them.
The clapping sound of wood against stone broke his concentration, “Lord Maxido, Lord Maxido!”
He gave the boy a stern look, “You mean King Maxido, right?”
“Yes, my king.” The messenger boy gulped.
“Good,” Maxido grinned, “What is it?”
“I came to inform you that we are nearly completed in our task of alarming the country.”
The king took a slight double take at the boy, “So soon?”
“Yes sir! The royal guards are going as fast as they can. Also, the villagers have spread the word themselves. All is going as you asked.”
The boy was extremely happy that he could deliver such good news to the king. Good news was always rewarded. The king on the other hand was not too happy. He was expecting the task to take much longer. It was true that a quick message could be relayed to outposts all over the country, but he never anticipated it to be this quick.
“I see,” nodded the king to himself.
“Excuse me sir?”
“Oh nothing. Has the hunt begun as well?”
The messenger boy bowed his head, his voice showing signs of fright, “I’m sorry sir. The guards are holding off on the search until everyone has been properly alerted.”
Maxido could sense the boy’s dread. It was the same dread any messenger had when they talked with the king. Although good news was rewarded, bad news was punished…often severely.
“Good,” Maxido laughed, confusing his lesser friend, “Tell all of the guards to hold off on finding that wretched stallion. I’m sure the griffons of our fine nation will happily assist us in catching him.”
“Absolutely sir. I’ll get the message out right away!”
The griffon boy hurried out the door with his message in claw. The king was pleased with him, or in the very least, wasn’t angry with him. In a land where power meant everything, that was key. Maxido, still lounging about in his solid stone throne, laughed to himself. Without fear of anyone important hearing him, he began talking to himself.
“All is going according to plan. The guards will be at ease, and the people will rally to find their beloved king’s killer. So sad that they’ll never catch the real killer. After all, he is the one sending them on the search! Hahahahaha!”
The mad king took a crunchy bite out of the red Equestrian apple in front of him. Juice dripped from his beak as he laughed aloud. All was going perfect for Maxido Grillana, and he was going to make sure it stayed that way. Unfortunately for the new king, there had been an unwilling soul listening to his ranting.
The messenger boy was going to return to the king to get a signed letter for proof of his message, but stopped when he heard his voice. The messenger, like many of the other royal staff, was not in on Maxido’s plot. When he heard the truth from Maxido’s own beak, the poor messenger had no choice but to turn and run.
Breath heavy, and wings working at their fullest, the messenger soared out of the castle. He had to be at his fastest if he was going to get his message out there. He had to warn the other griffons about their new leader. And he had to do it before they killed some poor, innocent fool.
As he flew ahead he constantly reassured himself, “Come on Alba, you can do this.”