Gilda flapped her wings steadily. Each beat was synced with her heart as she flew over the never ending rock. That stupid stallion just had to remind her of Rainbow Dash. Gah! She said her name again. Even the idea of the mare was enough to physically sicken the griffon.
“I don’t get it.” Gilda scolded herself. “Why do I even care? She’s lame now. She means nothing… nothing at all.”
Sure, they had been good friends back in the day, but ponies change. Griffons don’t change, they adapt. And if anything, Gilda adapted amazingly. Spending time with ponies softened her, but her return to Griffhala made her into the trooper she needed to be to survive. After all, what good is a touchy-feely mercenary?
Gilda really needed a drink. In fact, she could really go for one of Kondore’s mixes right about now. Anything would get her by, as long as her favorite bartender made it for her. Thoughts of drinks and merriment distracted her. Had she bothered to take any notice of where she was flying, she would’ve realized she was headed straight out of Griffhala.
The great country of Griffhala bordered two major adjoining countries. One was the obvious Equestria to the west. The second was the dirt country, or as the dogs called it, Koerstad. No one really cared much for the dogs, save what produce goods they could give to the griffons. All they wanted were gems. They mined them day and night, only to use them for petty crafting purposes. Only the heavens could figure out why, and Gilda wasn’t one particular griffon to care for the heavens.
As it was, Gilda was on her way to Koerstad, and as it happened there was a dog on his way to Griffhala. This particular diamond dog was not all too happy with his assignment either.
“Stupid onyx. Go to stupid birdy country, they said. It has so much onyx, they said.” Grumbled the dog.
Chip the diamond dog was sent by his firm to acquire a sufficient supply of onyx for an artistic masterpiece by some dog he could care less about. Of course, Chip wouldn’t normally have been in this situation. Normally they would’ve sent Sparky, but he was on vacation for the next week and Chip was the only other dog who specialized in minerals.
Chip just wanted this job to be over. No one wanted to go in griffon country, mostly because it was dangerous, but even more so because it was really freaking dangerous. Griffons did not take well to other animals in their territory, even if they were just trading. Chip just wanted to find his onyx and scat on out.
Sadly for Chip, there was a griffon nearby, just waiting for something else to occupy her time.
Gilda shook her head, rattling the thoughts of Rainbow Dash away for another time… when she had some alcohol on claw. The only thing she knew that would require thought was her mission. Some random pony out there was worth a big bounty, and she aimed to find him. Reaching into her feathers, she pulled out the crumpled scroll that detailed her prey.
Hmm, orangey-brown coat with a dark purple mane. Pegasus, obviously. There wasn’t a lot to go on, but then again there weren’t that many ponies in Griffhala. Oh it also noted that he had a small goatee.
And just like that, Gilda’s blank stare at the paper sparked an intensely fuming rage that sent her zooming back from where she came.
“How could I have been so stupid!?”
The paper delayed as it fell from its great height. Swishing this way and that, it eventually found its way into the face of one particular aforementioned diamond dog.
“Ah griffons! I’m being attacked! Help, help me!” screeched the deceived dog as he ran in circles trying to escape the wrath of the paper.
After many minutes of futile running and screaming, Chip finally managed to calm down and pull the paper from his snout. Flipping it this way and that, he worked his way into understanding the proper reading technique: right side up.
“Pony...king…attack…dead…reward…50000 BITS!”
The formerly disgruntled diamond dog jumped up and down, waving the paper in the air. Mining boring onyx was one thing, 50000 bits was another! This was Chip’s lucky day after all. All he had to do was traverse all of ‘stupid birdy country’ in search of a pony and then…
“Dang.”
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Fuzzy lights graced the awakening stallion’s eyes. He let out a strangled yawn, bringing morning tears to his eyes. With his best efforts to keep the bright lights and tears away, he rubbed his hooves across his eyes repeatedly. Soon enough, he was steady enough to look around.
Flipping himself over, he pushed himself up and stretched. His muscles felt like he had been out for days. Either that or he had just pushed his body past its normal limits to escape certain death. The second option seemed more viable, considering he had no idea why he would want to sleep on cold and unforgiving stone.
Slowly the memories trickled back into his train of thought. The king, the escape, the flying, the chase, the crash; it was all coming back to him.
“I should get outta here.”
Frightened eyes scanned the surrounding area. No griffons, just rock. Still, there was no way he could be sure. He didn’t want to set himself up for a trap. It was best to just get out as soon as possible. Stunning autumn wings cascaded over the similarly shaded ground.
Crack!
“Oh Celestia, why!?” he yelped, swiftly contracting his wings as he fell to the ground in pain.
His left wing had been seriously damaged in his high speed flight, and he knew there was no way he would fly quite yet. After trying to use it, the collapsed wing pulsed against his side. The dull throb was enough to get the stallion off to a quick trot back from where he came. It was the only available option considering he could no longer fly upwards.
The path was straight forward, but covered a long distance. The only hope was that there would be somewhere he could stop along the way. The bumpy road was slow going, ups and downs every few feet. Coarse, jagged rocks kept the stallion on his toes as he trotted. Light cries of ‘ow’ and ‘hey’ echoed against the canyon walls, conversing with his future self along the way.
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“Let me go!” Alba protested, trying his hardest to wriggle free from his captors’ grasp.
The guard griffins said nothing, but responded gladly by tightening their grip. The prisoner’s left eye twitched with the pressure.
Alba had made a serious miscalculation in judgment. Indiscriminately, he went to the first griffins he could instead of going for someone he knew he could trust. The dank scenery surrounding him as he plummeted downwards into the depths of the Oiseau base assured him of that folly.
The cylindrical building shape had a spiral of stairs that worked their way up and down the entire structure, but these particular guards decided to take the quick route and fly down. Second hands had barely passed when they arrived at a solid stone door in the bottom levels. The door had a small window, barred both vertically and horizontally, sitting at head level for a griffon on all four limbs.
The first guard released Alba, and used his key to activate a crank which lifted the bulky door up. Alba continued to resist, but each new attempt was met with an equal increase in force from the second guard. Once the door had risen fully, the guards threw the distressed messenger inside. Releasing the crank, the weighty slab of incarcerating stone slammed back down to the ground.
“Please, one of you must realize how serious this is?” Alba pleaded helplessly.
The gruff voice of a military griffon answered him, “King Maxido is a far better choice as a leader. He has great plans for our country. We aren’t going to let you stop him from saving us.”
Alba opened his mouth to retort, but the sound of beating wings discouraged his voice. The air inside his cell was an odd combination of cold and muggy. Its complex feeling distracted Alba. Everything was dark, save for the light cast by the ‘window’. Alba tried to wipe his eyes, but realized that his claws were still cuffed.
“Guards, my claws! Guards!”
Alba’s cries fell on deaf ears, or rather no ears at all. Dejected, the messenger’s limbs fell limp. His knees collapsed, sending him crashing into the wall. His body was numb to contact, sliding effortlessly downwards until he rested sadly upon the ground. The ground was wet, dampening his feathers and greasing his fur. He didn’t mind though, he didn’t even notice. He was too busy staring into the nothingness with his mouth agape.
“I’m doomed.” He told himself, “Griffhala is doomed.”
Pupils flittered with darkening fright as the lightless room began to enclose on the griffon. Darkness slowly crept in, blurring his vision. Each second was another centimeter or sight gone, gone forever. The chains that held Alba’s claws together clattered against the floor as he shook. The darkness, the void was coming in on him… the world was already ending.
Alba thought back on his military training, trying to remember how to cope with prison environments. Nothing came to mind. Had he really learned anything during his training in the Griffhala royal guard? Chances proved negative. He was a simple messenger; they had no need to train him like they would a real soldier. And that was just a sad fact: Colonel Alba T. Ross was not a soldier.
The impossible escape cracked inside Alba’s brain. Veins snapped sporadically about his head, pounding, throbbing with the force of a full on aneurism. The incessant rattling of his own chains increased. Cold from the dampened floor seeped into Alba, his shivering worsening. The darkness closed the final gap between his eyes; his pupils still darting about, searching for a vision from reality. Little drops of spit fell from a harshly vibrating beak. Each drip sent Alba into a violent mental spasm.
Drip, snap.
Drip, snap.
Drip…SNAP!
The room went quiet. Absolute silence overtook the scene. The chains ceased their clatter, even Alba’s breath could not be heard echoing off of the cell walls. The entire room was full of darkness, so full that some even flooded out of the bars and into the tower. Cold encapsulated everything, freezing all that it touched.
Drip…
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“I see.” Maxido nodded, stroking his feathery beard. “Well that’s rather unfortunate for that poor soul. Ah well, necessary sacrifices. Still, he did have a message to deliver. Go, relay it to the posts, and thank you for the update.”
A door slammed behind Maxido, signifying he was once again alone. He had to watch himself now though, alone did not have to mean alone. The new king paced back and forth, thinking over the information he had just received.
The messenger boy he had sent off had overheard him gloating and tried to insurrect another revolution. Of course, Maxido had merely gotten lucky that the kid went to a base loyal to him first. He couldn’t take anymore foolish chances.
The griffon leader had had plenty of time to take in the view of his new throne room since he was crowned. With planning to do and orders to give, he had little time to be anywhere else. He wasn’t too happy about that fact, considering he had spent most of his life in the room as it was. Still, being able to sit in the throne was a nice bonus.
Pbbbbbbfff… Maxido let out a grand groan of boredom.
There wasn’t much he could do until the stallion was caught. Although he wanted to move forward on his Griffhala restoration plans, having the entire country on red alert wasn’t very accommodating in that respect.
The country needed a new start fast though! The very concept of having to wait angered Maxido to the point of fumes. Everything had gone perfectly, and if the stallion had just been kind enough to stay put, it would have gone over even better. Maxido tried not to complain though, realizing what a stroke of luck the stallion truly was. Which begged the question; how did he come here in the first place?
Maxido witnessed the events with his own eyes. The stallion just appeared on the king’s head. There was no rhyme or reason to it, nothing to prove he was even aware of what happened. It could’ve been that blasted unicorn magic of theirs, but he couldn’t be certain.
The puzzled griffon shook the thoughts away. No use straining over questions he had no way of answering. Besides, he could always ask the stallion himself, should he be alive when they meet once again.
After even more pacing about the throne room, Maxido’s anxious self decided it best to leave for a time. Nothing a good walk couldn’t fix. Maxido pushed open the large castle door, feeling a flaky coating on his hand. It was uncomfortable and dry, sending an odd chill through his spine similar to that of handling Styrofoam boxes. Maxido knew the source of his uncomforted though and decided that it was worth the slight annoyance of opening a door. Besides, dried blood could be washed off.