Hey friends,
Sorry I haven’t replied any sooner, I haven’t had much time to write a letter since I got here. Doing fine though; I’ve gotten used to waking up in the early hours of the morning and having my room inspected, doing the drills, exercises, classes, cleaning the dorms and ironing our uniforms. Staff Sergeant Razorwing is pretty tough, but he has his way of teaching us how to be military.
I’m still trying to learn the names of the other ponies in my platoon, but they seem to like me, they all seem pretty interested in a griffon amongst the group. My roommate Scythe is a good pony, he’s quiet but he’s helpful.
I have a couple of weeks left of this intensive training period, once that’s done, I can apparently get more free time to write.
Till next time,
GallusP.S. Hey Sandbar, how’s Coral doing at school?
“GRIFFON! GET OUT HERE!”
The sergeant’s alarm call caused Gallus to panic, he had been writing during the short break he had and did not realise the length of time it took. He grabbed an envelope and stamp, hastily wrote Silverstream’s address on it before he filled it with the letter and made a mad dash out of his room. With not much time to check his outfit, he chucked the letter into a nearby post box and made his way outside.
His platoon was all lined up with Razorwing in front, looking displeased as his eyes did not meet Gallus’, but just below them. “Twenty wing-ups from you Griffon,” he ordered, pointing a hoof at the ground, “ten for being late, and ten more for your unshaped collar.” Gallus proceeded to grumble as he lowered himself down to the gravel, holding himself up by both his hind paws and the tip of his wings.
He deliberately left out of that letter that he had also gotten used to the number of penalties he had been given for the slightest errors, even if the smallest benefit was his wings have gotten more accustomed to the stress of his own body weight with the help of the morning stretches.
His platoon buddies kept their eyes front and centre, paying no attention to him either, avoiding Razorwing’s attention. He stood in front and looked down on Gallus, not in the mood for the slightest complaints. “If you were here with the rest of your platoon, you wouldn’t be down there” he caustically remarked, “and hurry up, we’re all heading to your first course.”
Yep, Gallus just had a couple of weeks left of this.
The whole platoon flew over the field to the sight of a long and winding dirt path, the course had several obstacles that appeared to be made with wooden beams, as well as murky lakes. As the group lowered to the surface, other ponies could be seen scattered throughout the course, inspecting the different obstacles. A signpost had the name of the place engraved upon it, “Winstone’s Trial Training Ground”, with an emblem of a unicorn above it.
Razorwing stood in front and called for attention, “This week, you’re going to be at your limits.” He opened, walking up and down the line of cadets. “If you can go through this course, you’ll be good enough for the guard.” Gallus looked over at the course with a confident smirk across his face, most of it looked easy for him, he could just fly across. None of the other ponies looked as assured as him though, some internally tracing the length of the course with a taut feeling in their stomachs. Razorwing continued, pointing over to a large wooden gazebo, “so take a body vest, warm up your hooves and legs, and then we can get started.”
Inside the gazebo was a table stacked with granite coloured body vests, and on a wall was a board with names and times on, recording the fastest ponies who went around the course. Gallus would not have paid attention to the board, had he not recognised two names at the top of the board.
Under the unicorn section was the name “Shining Armor”, who he knew to be the brother of Princess Twilight Sparkle, his time was more than fifteen years old. Under Pegasus, was “Tomcat Magnus”, which must have confirmed what Wind Breaker said about there being descendants of Flash Magnus, his time was only three years old.
He picked up one of the vests, feeling the weight hanging from his talons. Fully padded in the front and back, with straps around the side but no holes for wings. He looked around and saw the other ponies had moved back out and help each other fit the vests and tighten the straps, joking amongst each other like there was no problem.
At least except Scythe, he was on his own having difficulty with tightening the straps. His hooves were useless since he could barely grip onto the strap to pull, and his head could not bend low enough to pull them with his teeth. “Here, let me help…” he offered, still carrying his vest as he made his way over.
Scythe’s flicked upwards, he didn’t have time to answer as Gallus slowly pulled the straps with one talon while holding Scythe away with the other, tightening one side. “Oh, thanks…” he finally answered, as Gallus went around to tighten the strap on the other side.
Then Gallus picked up his own vest. “So…where are the wings supposed to go through in these?” he asked while rotating the vest around, noting the lack of holes for wings to fit through.
“They’re not” Scythe answered in a blunt and nonchalant manner, causing confusion with the griffon.
“What do you mean?”
The griffon wasn’t getting it, Scythe showed his back to demonstrate. “These vests are meant to hold your wings down,” his brief explanation was not enough to rid Gallus of his perplexed stare, “the whole point of Winstone’s Trial is to test as if you’re grounded, without flight or magic.”
Gallus’ eyes narrowed, losing a sense of the concept. “So, we can’t use our wings?” he looked towards the obstacle course he previously imagined would be a breeze. “This obstacle course would be a lot easier if we could fly through it.”
“That’s right Griffon, it would be easier.” When Gallus turned his head back around, suddenly Razorwing was standing right beside an upright Scythe, glowering towards him. His feathers puffed out as a result of the surprise.
Razorwing continued unphased, “Any task would be easier if we could just use our wings to fly, or if unicorns could just use the magic in their horns but tell me this griffon” he started moving towards Gallus, his voice lowered. “If you were in the middle of a battlefield and one of your wings was broken, do you think the enemy will leave you alone?”
At this point, Razorwing’s face was but an inch from Gallus’ beak, staring him down whilst using one of his hooves to pull Gallus’ wing upward. “Uh… no, sir?” Gallus could only answer nervously.
“Exactly, the enemy wouldn’t care” Razorwing continued, moving back upright, letting go of Gallus’ wing and giving back his personal space. “The enemy would still expect you to run and fight, I don’t know if the griffon army feels that way, and to be honest I don’t care. In the E.U.P., if you can’t fight without wings or magic, you can’t fight at all. Now cut the chit-chat and get your vest on.”
Every cadet lined up in twos, each one waiting for the call from Razorwing, flying over from above with a clipboard and stopwatch in hoof. “ROSEWOOD! STERLING! GO!” and both Scythe and Pound Sterling went off.
“Sithee on tauther side!” yelled the northern pony as she made her remark.
One minute passed, and then another pair went. Then another. Then another. The anticipation built up inside Gallus, the urge to dash and plough through the obstacles. Except he had to wait for another pair to go, then another, then another. Until…
“GRIFFON! WINDBREAKER! GO!”
The pair fired off directly into the first obstacle, the sea of tires, each leg having to step into the rings as they travel across. Easy going for both. Then it was monkey bars, Gallus gripped onto the bars tightly with his talons as he swung from one to the next, if it wasn’t for the weight of the body vest around his chest, he could swing across much faster. He could see off the corner of his eyes that it was harder for Wind Breaker, the stubby hooves meant he had to hook his entire wrist around each arm.
When Wind Breaker failed to reach far enough to get one of the bars, he started to fall. Unfortunately, it became apparent how dependent pegasus ponies were on their wings. His instincts told him to start flapping, but when the body vest pressed the wings into his back where he could not move, panic set in. If he remembered to land with his hoofs, he wouldn’t have smacked face-first into the dirt.
“Wind Breaker, go back to the start of the bars” bellowed Razorwing from the sky, as Wind Breaker staggered and groaned his way back onto his hooves. Gallus made his way across and kept moving towards the next obstacle, the barbed wire.
After breathing in, Gallus went prone on the dirt and started crawling, hoping that with each arm moving and leg moving forward, that his attire would take most of the damage from the sharp spikes in the wire, even needing to hold his tail down to avoid it being tangled.
Once in the clear, he pushed himself back up and ran towards a set of barriers. He could see the ponies jump over them with ease, although some forgot to jump high enough. “Steeplechase, get your legs up over those barriers,” Razorwing yelled at one of the other ponies, trying their hardest to pull themselves over the last barrier.
When Gallus made it over the last barrier and started climbing a steep ramp, he noticed his breathing getting heavier and heavier. After so much running, he was losing energy faster than he did through exercises while standing still. It made traversing the balance beam, the exhaustion making it harder to prevent himself from falling off.
He stumbled his way off the end and sat down the side, breathing as beads of sweat dripped from the top of his head and down his beak. Alas, Razorwing wasn’t having any of it. “Griffon, keep moving, you’re not allowed to stop until you reach the finish line” he shouted out. Griffon, he always called Gallus Griffon, that is not a name. If Gallus wasn’t gasping for breath, he could call him out on it.
“My name… is Gallus… sir…” he called back, pausing for each breath.
The staff sergeant just crossed his arms, “I’ll keep that in mind when it’s important, but now you either keep running or I’ll get a unicorn to give you a jump start!”
With a heavy groan, Gallus stood back up and started moving again, moving at a trot as he approached another ramp. At the top, he could see two long ropes hanging from a high bar, and one other pony was standing at the top.
“Hey Bluebird, sweating already?”
It was Throw Up, his hoof hooked around one of the ropes, acting smug as Gallus had his paws and claws on the landing. The griffon creased his forehead and scowled back. “Says you…” he retorted, noting the slight drizzle on Throw-Up’s own forehead.
The pony quickly brushed it off his forehead to hide the evidence, “Nah, I could do this all day.” He hastily bragged. “Watch and learn!” He wrapped the rope around his hoof, stepped back and then jumped up on the rope, hooking his hind hooves around the bottom of the rope. He swung outwards with ease, and then when the rope started slowing down on the other side, he let go. The wide eyes and shock on his face as he looked down indicated that something was wrong. “Oh crap!” he uttered as he fell, and a loud splash was made at the bottom.
Gallus didn’t bother to check, he grabbed the rope, pulled it back and jumped on. He applied as much weight as he can and waited until the rope had swung past the halfway point before letting him go. The momentum of the rope was carried through as Gallus glided forward and landed firmly on dry land. He looked back to see Throw Up in a murky pool of water, drenched and covered in mud at the same time. The sight was enough to cause Gallus to do something for the first time all day, laugh.
“I must admit, that was a good lesson!” he remarked with a smirk, before carrying on.
The last obstacle stood between Gallus and the finish line, the wall. One fully vertical slope, and nothing but a rope to get one over. Still worn out, Gallus looked up and the wall appeared taller and taller. The one grace he had was that the towering wooden monolith blocking the low hanging sunlight.
“Just this one, just this one and then I can finish…” he reassured himself.
He grabbed onto the rope, placed his hind paws firmly on the wall, and started walking up, pulling on the rope. He made it halfway up when suddenly, his paws slipped, and his body swung face-first into the wall and he dropped. He tried again, he held onto the rope as tight as he could, paws pushing on the wall, his aching arms pulling on the rope. But like before, he slipped, banged against the wall, and back on the bottom.
A voice could be heard from the other side of the wall. “Come on Bluebird! You’re almost home!”
And another voice was coming from above, “Griffon, you’re stalling again.” He could also see the Staff Sergeant glowering at him again. He had his head rested against the wall, his eyes glowed and breathing heavily. He wanted to get through, but his will was starting to dwindle. If he can’t finish this trial, he thought, he’d be done for. “This would be easier if I could use my wings…”
“You call yourself a griffon and you cannot climb?” another voice called out to him, but not one that sounded familiar to all the other ones. This voice sounded more gravelly, crankier, and was undiscernible in which direction it was coming from. “For the sake of King Grover, you have more than just wings ya know!”
He opened his eyes, the sounds around him coming clearer. He looked down at his amber talons and blue feline legs and feet, and suddenly an idea popped into his head. That voice was right, he’s more than just wings, he was a griffon. Part bird AND part lion. He sat back up and looked up at the wall, his lower hind lowered and shifting side to side.
To the Staff Sergeant, it looked like Gallus was sitting, and he didn’t approve of it. Getting impatient, he starts to descend on Gallus. “Dammit Griffon,” he yelled, “you better be at the top of that wall by the time I get there!” Yet by the time he reached the ground, Gallus was not at the bottom of the wall, nor was he holding onto a rope.
Gallus had leapt upward, landing halfway up the walls with his claws holding him in place, long enough so he could push off the wall with his feet for another jump up the wall, and then another for good measure. By the time Razorwing looked up, he could see Gallus’ perched on the top wall, dumbfounded as the griffon disappeared over the other side.
Crossing the finish line, Gallus finished Winstone’s Trail. There were cheers from the other finishers, some more elated than others. “That was sick, Bluebird! Di’nt know you cud just jump over the wall!” exclaimed Sterling as she punched Gallus in the arm.
Gallus was still catching his breath and grinned, “Well, that’s half eagle and half lion for ya.” He looked back at the wall he had just cleared, Razorwing was still looking up and around it in a state of confusion, “Staff Sarge was right, I don’t need wings.”
Scythe offered a lighter path on the back, “Least now you don’t have to do it again…” he quietly remarked.
The griffon just smirked, “You kidding? I might try and get a record on that time board next time I’m here.” The remark got a few ponies laughing in response.
Other ponies also made their way down to the finish line, all being cheered on by the rest of the platoon. Even Throw Up made it despite being peeved at the amount of mud that had ruined his cyan coat. A few were not so lucky to make it through all the obstacles, Wind Breaker gave up at the wall, the other platoon was cheering him on as he was just a few metres from the top, before he slipped and fell, not getting up until Razorwing went over to check on him.
He was slowly made his way to the finish line, cheerless with his head down for the rest of the day.
“Okay cadets, we’re done for the day. Take off your vests and make your way back…” ordered Razorwing, the last order of the day.
Everyone returned to the dorms tired and exhausted, there was a need for a rest, and for a few a good shower. Gallus made his way to his room, where he caught something unique. A large brown package was resting on his bed, wrapped in string. It must be Gabby’s care package.
He sat on the bed and tore open the packaging and was amazed by the contents. There were griffon scones, which emitted a fresh aroma upon being unwrapped, Gabby must have gotten them recently baked from her friend Gilda the morning she set off from Griffonstone. Luckily, confectionary items are allowed in the dorms, so he figured they could be worth sharing later.
Then there was a large stack of paper, envelopes, and stamps, as well as a new quill and bottle of ink. Clearly, this was from Gabby and her post office, he found it very thoughtful as he had to borrow from Scythe to get a single letter posted earlier that day.
The next item had to be Gallus’ favourite, socks! Griffons love socks and leg warmers, and these ones were long, soft and stripey! He knew he wouldn’t be able to wear them, he didn’t want to make things weird with his platoon, but he appreciated the comfort.
He kept digging and found a single photo, it was a selfie of Gabby smiling with glee, with Gilda and her other friend Greta being pulled uncomfortably into the frame, their faces all smushed together. The photo drew a smile from Gallus’ face, most griffons would be sick of the sweetness and friendliness Gabby would offer, but after learning to make friends himself, he really appreciated knowing Gabby was around.
There was one more item at the bottom of the package, a wooden carved and varnished block in the shape of a shield. On the front was an emblem of a large griffon with wings spread wide and a stern gaze, towering over an idol-coloured gold and ruby. Below the emblem was engraved symbols of an olden language, Gallus could only assume it to be Griffish, a language he couldn’t entirely speak, let alone read.
Whatever this plaque was, it was out of place among the other items. It was too dark and bleak to be something from Gabby, too old and tacky for something Gilda would provide, and Greta… well Gallus hardly saw or knew her, but it didn’t look anything like something she’d send. Then he got his answer when he turned around to look at the back.
“Never forget – Gruff”
A single label, clearly written in Ponish. His eyes started to burn with anger, and his eyebrows drew together. This plaque wasn’t a gift, it was a message. “Sure, old-timer, I won’t forget…” He coldly remarked as he held the plaque over a trashcan, ready to throw it away.
But he tried with all his might, yet he couldn’t let the plaque go. “Dammit”, if he could not make himself get rid of it, he just needed to hide it, somewhere where he’d never find it again.