Alfred sat on a wooden crate fumbling around with his burgundy newsie cap while other griffons around him idly shared smokes and stories while they waited for the meeting to start. His suit was made of wool and based on a popular clothing line in Fezera which was inevitably bankrupt by now. It had silver buttons and silk cords on the cuff links so that it could match the tassels of the headwear the township was famous for.
He thought the coat looked tacky, even if it wasn’t a wrinkled mess, and the rich ocean blue had become muddied with the occasional dirt marked on it. But it was the coat his father-in-law gave him as a gift on his marriage, and his wife was always happy to be reminded of something from her old life on the Fezera coasts. For his wife’s smile, he would wear any sort of tacky outfit, even the Fez!
Well, he’d prefer not to.
He was a part of Griffenheim’s peerage and though he didn’t have much, the 3rd son of a minor baron, he was determined to fulfill everything he promised her. A family, a modest household, a servant or two, he even bought her the latest fashions straight from Fezera every season, that was probably the easiest gift he always bought for her.
Then the revolution broke out, and he suddenly found it very difficult to provide the simple commodities he had so prided himself on giving to his family. He thought it was the end of the world when Kemerskai announced his presidency over the radio with his plans to overthrow the kaiser.
He remembered sitting in the hotel room he had purchased for his family when anarchists burned his home, solemn and grim at a desk, even as his wife stroked his wings and cooed that it would all be okay so long as they were together with the children.
He watched from his fifth story window one cold day in March when the Imperial Army spearheaded an assault through a street blocked by revolutionary soldiers. He watched as the rebels tried desperately to fight back, their machine guns raining death while rifles gave off sharp cracks attempting to quell the Imperial onslaught.
A detachment of Bronzehill dogs forced themselves through the enemy barricades and ripped apart the revolutionaries with bayonets and sharpened fangs.
Alfred gave a loud cheer from his window that day when he watched Imperial columns march down the street, their crisp uniforms and spiked helmets glistening in the evening sun. The proud banners of the empire were paraded through the streets, resolute in their attempt to crush the spirit of revolution.
Among those banners were flags from all corners of the empire. Bronzehill, Strawberry, Feathisia, even Angriver’s checkered emblems could be spotted among them.
Alfred was nearly brought to tears by the majesty of the Imperial Army marching through the streets of Griffenheim. It was a reminder to the rest of the world that Griffonia would not be cowed into submission by communist vermin and liberal traitors.
In the years that followed the end of Kemerskai’s reign, there was a hive of activity in Griffenheim as traitors were shot in the streets, buildings were rebuilt, commoners paraded in the streets, and priests of Boreas gave dull sermons on the importance of loyalty to Kaiser Grover VI.
Then one day, the activities increased, even when all the buildings were finished being rebuilt.
Traitors were still shot in the streets, but many of them were now officers of the imperial army. The priest sermons became less dull and more fiery, preaching of devotion and loyalty to Boreas. Then finally, the commoners stopped parading in the streets all together, replaced by the thundering military marches of the Imperial Army with armbands and banners declaring their allegiance to Archon Eros VII, the new regent of Kaiser Grover VI.
At first, Alfred was rather enthusiastic about Ero’s goals to break apart the monopoly of power wielded by the entrenched upper nobility of Griffenheim. There was little room for the minor noble houses of Griffonia to advance themselves in the empire since the influential talons of great families, such as the Goldenbeaks and Eagleclaws, held all the major government posts and commercial charters.
It would be a changing of the guard, and there would be boundless opportunities for lesser noble families such as Alfred’s to take government positions previously denied to them due to their inferior social standing. After all, who else would help the Archon maintain the functions of government?
Apparently, not the nobility.
By the end of 1006, all of the great houses of Griffenheim were stripped of their prestige and influence, replaced by army officials, priests, and those with fervent loyalty to Eros. The privileges of the peerage were stomped into the dirt, and the proud nobles in the Imperial capital were reduced to relying on personal assets and the goodwill of the Archon. Dissenters were quietly brought to back alleyways and shot, ironically the same ones which the communists and liberals were executed in only a few years prior.
Now he was sitting on a crate in his tattered coat, alongside about fifty other griffons who had grown discontent under the oppressive regime of the Archon. His friend Felix had told him about a gathering of malcontents, sponsored by Duchess Gabriella to sabotage the Imperial Army and eventually raise the flag of rebellion against Eros when the Duchesses’ armies would march on Griffenheim. They were meeting in the warehouse of an automobile factory, the owner being a staunch monarchist having claimed to have overseen the construction of the carriage car used by Kaiser Grover V himself.
Besides Felix, there were a few other peers who Alfred recognized by association or briefly met at a social function at some point. Some gave him a slight nod of acknowledgement, while others hid their heads feeling ashamed at being recognized in their current misfortune. Alfred allowed them their dignity, avoiding eye contact with those birds and remembering them as they were before, well groomed, proud, and the picture of Griffonian society.
The majority of those gathered were commongriffs, opportunists, and individuals who chafed under the Archon's strict religious laws. Some of these griffons had family members taken away in the middle of the night, only to discover them days later with a bullet in their skulls.
The noise in the room died abruptly, as an ivory colored Griffon strode into the room. He wore the fern green battle dress of the Strawberry Duchy, looking a few years older than Alfred. He went into the center of the assembled crowd, taking a moment to acknowledge the faces of all the griffons present.
“It brings me to tears to know that there are still Griffons who are loyal to the empire, who see the madness of Eros underneath his bitter lies and manipulation of our sacred faith.”
The soldier continued his impassioned speech, addressing the crowd of peasants and nobles without distinction.
“Eros chooses to destroy the people and traditions he is sworn to protect, rather than the radical revolutionaries plotting in Cloudbury. He appeals to a cult of personality, subjecting our Kaiser to humiliation and indignity. The Archon does not care for any of us, only for his vanity and insatiable ambition, and will crush the empire we have only briefly restored. Subjects of Griffonia, Gabriella calls upon you to restore the Kaiser!”
Many of the Griffons murmured amongst themselves. Some cried at the thought of the young Kaiser being manipulated by Eros while others stepped forward, hoping to fight for a better Griffonia. Alfred volunteered without hesitation. He was willing to do anything to secure a future for his family.