//------------------------------//
// Chapter Three: Winter Wallows 
// Story: Ballad of Knights and Peasants 
// by FeldmarschallTwiggs 
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Waking up in a cold sweat, mind in the clouds, and body seemingly numb, Gunther rises from his sleep. He's on his twin size bed, fit for one. It always hurt his back, and this day was no different. The room was dank, and blinded him. He didn't have much in décor, only a large table on the side smothered in trinkets, and a hung up coat and cap he uses to go out. Then, on his side, Gunther realized he did not have his glasses on, and quickly put them on. While the darkness was certainly not lifted, he could at least see a little more clearer. The griffon couldn't remember a thing that happened before this period of rest he had. One moment, he was yelling at Hazel, and the next, he's in his bedroom. Alone. Realizing what he did, he quickly rose from the bed, and on the floor. His hind legs still ached, and were obviously dormant for a long while. But he soldiered on, walking a little slower now. From the door of the room, he sees a sliver of light bleed in. It's coming from the kitchen. And from the kitchen, a beautiful aroma sneaks into Gunther. "Apples..." The griff thought. He put his talon and the side of the door, readied himself, and swung it open.



Entering the kitchen, Hazel Wing the earth pony prepares a nice loaded potato, along with a beautifully scented apple pie. The sweet smell of cinnamon filled the room, and was simply divine. The pony did close the windows, along with any curtains as well beforehand. Most likely to not be seen inside. The  kitchen itself though, was quite a mess. Chopped up vegetables and apples scattered about. Failed pie crust. Many little pools of water on the floor, along with fallen flour. All this tensed Gunther up, and he began to feel light-headed. Either from shock, or because he rose up so quickly. Hazel noticed this and helped him regain his balance. "Are you okay, Mr. Schneider? I know this is a bit of a mess but I made you some pie and a loaded potato, just how you like it." The griffon responded in a slower manner. "Yes, thank you Hazel. I'm fine, do not worry about me. I just need to-" He tripped and could barely stand. The pony, while small, was quite strong, and helped him sit down. "Mr. Schneider, I believe you had a panic attack. You were out cold for an entire day, and you seemed like you were on the brink of death. I'm so sorry for bringing all this stress on to you." Hazel looked away from Gunther, not seeming to want to even look at him out of guilt. Gunther took a breath, and began. "It was my choice to let you in. While I didn't know what you were like, I decided you could stay. You are my guest, and I haven't considered you as much as I should've. I'm sorry for letting Johanne in." She then seem to tense up a little bit at the mention of the Sturmgreife, but settled down. "Mr. Schneider, I know I can not influence who you befriend, but you need to know where I am coming from as well."



"When I first got my degree in botany, I tried to become a florist, and went to find myself a shop that needed one. Well, I found none that wanted me. So I thought that 'If my father tags along, maybe they'll see me as some kind of honorary griffon or some silly stuff.'" Gunther frowned ever so slightly. She continued. "So one day I went with him to this one floral shop, near the market. And to make a story short, it didn't work out. My father and the storeowner yelled at each other viciously over the fact of my very existence, and why a 'pure, honorable griffon would intermingle with a disgusting dung-equine'." Hazel stopped for a moment, to recompose herself, for she knew what she was going to say next. "When we left the store, one Sturmgreife brute grabbed me and began to strangle me. My father, old as he was, tried to release me. But, another one came from behind. And by Boreas I will never forget what that monster looked like. That, fucking terrible smirk he had, his dark red feathers, and his weight. The fat bastard was the very antithesis of a, 'pure, honorable griffon'. And in less than a minute, my..." She stopped one more time. "My father was killed. From behind. The daemon couldn't even look him in the eyes. But, as he fell, he scratched his talons against the brutes leg, and I was released from my near death. My natural instincts forced me to run away, but not before I saw how brutally beaten my already dead father was. They had no mercy. I tried to go to Red Marmalade's house but, she wasn't there. I opened the door to her old, crumbling house, and it was terrible. Broken pictures, vases, furniture, all the sort. And when I realized what was going on around me, once the adrenaline went away, I felt like I was going to simply end my life there. That was in the same time I found you, Gunther." Gunther looked hesitantly at the pony, face completely scrunched up, and soaked in tears. She continued. "When I first saw you, in all honesty, I was prepared to kill you. I knew I had to settle for you, because you were the nearest, and all the other ponies I knew of had been lynched or scared away. The moment you did anything threatening, I was going to kill you. It was unlikely I would've succeeded, but I guess I had a death wish at the time." Gunther couldn't respond. Mainly because he was just told that someone was ready to kill him, and that one of his only friends is part of an organization that kills even innocent griffons.



The cool wind seeped through the cracks, and shivered the vulnerable creatures. The clouds covered the sky, and let little to no light in. The shop itself was even darker, with the only source of light emanating from the kitchen. And in it, the pony and griffon sit near each other, contemplating both of their situations. In moments like these, the only thing you can do, is just silently respond to each other. And in this case, an agreement was settled on. And for the next few weeks, then turning to months, Hazel lived with Gunther in his shop, doing the same routine. And as the days went by, the control on daily lives grew worse. Sturmgreife patrols became more frequent, a mob storming pony ghettos became front news almost every day, each time being hailed as a victory for griffonkind. That's not even accounting for the screams. They all weren't even at night either. While Gunther and Hazel were eating, or he attending to customers, off in the distance, they could be heard. Either individually, or en masse. The worst part about it, was how nonchalant every one was about it all. As it was a normal, daily thing. It terrified both of them. Johanne still came more and more, with Gunther having more and more mixed feelings about the officer every day. And when Gunther was found to be more than trustworthy, more and more Sturmgreife came to the shop, mostly from the recommendation of Johanne. To Gunther's luck, they were quite wealthy. And they in turn, brought great wealth to Gunther as well. They were also rich in hate and awful personalities. Besides their grotesque bragging of how many ponies they've killed and harassed, they were very obnoxious too. With every time they leave the shop, it was completely trashed, and shown no respect. At least the money was good. Of course, there were the occasional diamond in the rough, with some just average troops trying to find a place to fit in, or even creatures like Johanne. But they were few, and far between. This was the daily routine for 3 months. Until one broadcast, on a particularly quiet afternoon.



"My dear griffons," said the voice radiating from the radio in Gunther's front desk. It scared the griff half to death, and then he noticed who the voice was. It was Edler von Wingenberg. The leader of the Sturmgreife. And that was incredibly odd, because the mysterious old griff almost never made any public appearance or broadcast. Hazel heard it, and waved over at Gunther to bring the radio near her, because they both needed to hear what was going to be said. The volume dial was turned about loud enough to hear crystal clear. "For too long has the griffon race toiled, dying, defending our borders from the filth in the east, and relying on the ever so distant, and crumbling 'empire', to the west. For too long have we idly sat by while the whole world is consumed by a disgusting Equine world order, known as 'harmony'. For too long has Hellquill withered away into obscurity by the idiotic, and terribly outdated knights, who were ever so resistant to needed change! This, has ended, my friends. Wingfried von Katerinburg, was not fit to rule anymore. It came to my attention that he was planning on selling the country out to the low stock in the west, for his own personal gain. This age of selfishness has ended. Me and my Sturmgreife have successfully liberated the nation from the rule of a degenerate. And I, have replaced him. From now on, Ordensstaat Hellquill, shall no longer be ruled and controlled by Equine rot! From now on, Hellquill shall remain griffonian, and only griffonian! We shall prevail, in unity, strength, and purity! Heil der Führer! Heil Wingenberg!" The speech ended with a thunderous applause. Gunther and Hazel could only look. At what, that does not matter. This was the beginning of the end. The madgriff had just seized power, and life for both griffon and pony, would only get worse.