//------------------------------// // 2: Alien Arrival // Story: Feathered Hearts - Continuation and Chronicles // by Firesight //------------------------------// Gilda growled as she shoved her left foreleg in the appropriate opening of the crow-begotten torture device they called a dress uniform. The damn dark-blue vest was supposed to make them look presentable, but all it did was make her angrier by the minute. She had spent almost half an hour trying to make her wings fit through the provided openings only to realize the foreleg sleeves were coming up far too short, pinching her at the joints and riding up uncomfortably towards her elbows. That was annoying enough. But even once she finally got the tunic on around her forelegs—an exercise that was another ten-minute struggle—she had to secure it using a pair of darker-shaded straps that were looped around her arms and torso in strategic locations, tightening around her shoulders and even grinding uncomfortably against the base of her neck where her flight muscles extended. The dress uniform didn’t fit, but the Guard garrison’s Quartermaster proved to be useless when Gilda showed up wanting a replacement. He simply laughed at her complaints, telling her that the dress uniform fit exactly as per Kingdom’s standards. She later learned from those griffons who had worn it before that it was designed to purposely annoy the wearer, as its uncomfortably constricting fit gave the griffon wearing it an angry, battle-ready look—scowled eyes, ruffled feathers, and twitching wings. In that, she admitted it served its purpose perfectly, as she found herself ready to tear something apart from the not-so-simple process of putting it on. In truth, she’d probably have felt more embarrassed if she was in Equestria. Ponies, after all, were convinced from their experience with pegasi that twitching wings were a sign of sexual arousal. While not completely false, they failed to remember that for griffons, a pair of twitching wings far more often meant that said griffon was angry and ready to attack. At least it didn’t fully impede her forelegs, though it certainly constricted her movement; she couldn’t understand the logic behind making them look battle-ready if the uniform itself limited their ability to fight. Her forelegs finally fitted, she donned her shoulder armor, polished to a mirror shine and gleaming proudly, over the dress uniform with a practiced motion. Checking the straps of her dress uniform one last time, Gilda stretched her wings, making sure she could actually still fly with the stupidly tight vest. Finding that she could, even if she didn’t have full range of motion, she walked towards the exit, leaving her bare quarters behind. It consisted of only straw bedding, a small closet, and a stone desk, but it was still far more than she’d had for previous rotations, when she’d be lucky to be sharing a room with only an entire three-decade Turma. She stepped outside, and her eagle eyes quickly narrowed to pinpricks as the bright sun momentarily blinded her. Once they adjusted, she quickly scanned around. She was currently in the fourth level of Arnau, and the griffons there moved around at a hurried but purposeful pace; the air smelling of freshly baked bread. She sighed, feeling so sick of the aroma that had permeated the whole city since yesterday. She knew she should have been glad; maybe even proud that Arnau was fully prepared to greet the humans. Instead, she still felt nothing but apprehension regarding their presence, and judging by the tension she could sense from the griffons around her, she wasn’t the only one. From ruffled feathers to twitching wings to curt conversations, the entire city seemed less festive than restive, not knowing either what their soon-to-arrive alien visitors would look like, or what would happen when they appeared. Walking towards the edge of the level’s battlement, she met a few guards patrolling the merlons surrounding the area. She began to shout the clearance code but they immediately complied before she completed it, most likely recognizing her and giving her leeway. A bit unprofessional, but then again, Gilda was grateful that they were not trying to be obstructive at a time she was in no mood for it. Dashing towards a free crenel, she leapt off and spread her wings wide, letting the air catch her as she took flight. Gilda smiled as the wind hit her face, feeling some of her discomfort-caused anger receding as she reentered her element. The smell of bread was fully ignored as she flapped harder, letting her climb higher. She was almost stopped by two patrolling Guards in the fifth level before she shouted the code and they let her be.  Knowing she didn’t have the proper clearance to ascend any higher towards the royal palace where the Queen resided, she stayed at that height, admiring the splendor of their capital city, wondering how the humans would perceive it before she slowly glided towards the western entrance, where her decade had been posted. As she descended, she could see the busy bustle on the third level, which was primarily designed as a commercial area. It had minimal residences but numerous shops, eateries and Inns set atop slabs of smooth, gray stone. The large central auditorium of the level was being cleared as tables, barely mid-torso high, were set down in rows. Some griffons, she noted, were setting torches for light as they occasionally did when large numbers of ponies were present, usually for state visits from the pony Princesses.  Apparently, humans couldn’t see that well in the dark, belying yet again their supposed status as apex predators. She was almost at the first level when she was hailed by Fortrakt. He was waiting in the middle of a landing point, an upraised stone stage filled with soft soil, smiling. He was early, which was not surprising given he prided himself on his punctuality. He was also dressed in a blue vest, and while it looked snug, his smaller frame made it a far better and less awkward fit than hers. “Nice dress uniform!” he greeted her with a wide smile, giving her a mock salute—she wasn’t owed a real one as even though she had a higher rank than him, she wasn’t an officer. “You finally look like a proper Griffon Guard!” Gilda landed at an angle and didn’t slow down, letting her momentum deliberately carry her into a slide. Dirt flew as she twirled around, hoping to cuff him with her wing as she passed, but he ducked out of the way. Still, she got the last laugh as Fortrakt got caught from all the scattered dust that billowed in his direction. She watched him cough for a moment as she snapped and spread her wings before folding them on her sides. “Really, cub? You’d think with all my armor, I look a lot more like a proper Griffon than you do,” she replied with a smirk. Fortrakt rolled his eyes and coughed one last time before he approached her. The two jumped off the platform and began to walk side-by-side to the gate. “All it takes is time, something that old and past-their-prime griffons like you are lacking!” He chuckled, ducking as Gilda tried to cuff him again. “One day, I’m going to get my shoulder plates and braces. And then you’ll realize the fundamental difference between us, Decanus,” he addressed her by her Auxiliary Guard rank. “Oh, and what is that, Gladio?” she returned the favor, emphasizing his lower status. “That I make the armor look good.” He all but preened. Gilda snorted, which shortly turned into a loud laugh that got the attention of a few griffons and ponies walking amongst them. “Cub, while you’re trying to entice an eagless with your spit-shined plates, I’d be behind a stone desk, ordering you to get my drinks.” “Yup, like any old griffon. Sit behind the table and look important while letting the younger ones run the show,” Fortrakt countered with his tongue out. Gilda tried to think of a retort, but she had to admit, she flew right into that one, reflecting that just two years earlier, she would have immediately tried to fight him in wounded pride. Now, though, she continued her trek in silence as Fortrakt smiled, reveling in his small victory. Arnau’s first level housed a lot of farmers, both Caleponian and griffon. Unlike the upper levels, the residential buildings were widely spaced; built more from wood than stone. It reflected the high number of Caleponians living there, as most of the houses were decorated with plants or had a small garden that they tended. There were some foals and fillies laughing about, sometimes playing with griffon cubs while wearing leather claw gloves. They passed a statue of Ardanius of the West, a faceless griffon hero that once held fast against the invading forces of King Sombra, sacrificing himself to defeat the former Dark Lord of the Crystal Kingdom and throw his army back into the sea. He wore heavy armor, but his visage was not known because the thwarted and infuriated King had ordered his likeness purged from all memory and had the magical power to do it.  His sculpture stood on its hind legs, supported by the large diamond-shaped shield it held with one set of talons, while the other gripped a large war-hammer. It was used as a model for the Fortis Knights; earth griffons with smaller wings but stocky bodies able to carry and lift heavy loads. While it looked extremely impressive, Gilda still favored the Wind Knights that were meant to rule the air, as befit the sky griffon she was. Thinking of the Wind Knights, Gilda was surprised when she spotted a number of them landing on the rampart on top of the Western Gate. From her distance, she could make out the leathery hide underneath their enchanted golden armor plates. Their armor was far lighter than the Fortis Knights as it was designed for maximum maneuverability, and the crossbows hanging on their flanks were meant to be used in aerial combat. Some were even bringing them forward, letting them rest on the raised stone platforms, ready to be aimed down the western road. “Did I miss something?” Fortrakt asked, confused as he watched them take defensive positions. “I thought we were just greeting them!” “Just letting the apes know that we’re taking them seriously.” A new voice answered him.  Gilda and Fortrakt glanced to their right, quickly spotting the voice’s owner; a female sky griffon with a dark grey lynx-like coat and very pale, falcon-like feathers. She was dressed like Tribune Cipio of the South, attired in a leather-like hide with metallic greaves on her throat, shoulder and sides. Unlike the Southern Tribune, however, her chain was made of silver, indicating her additional authority was to command Talons. Fortrakt immediately saluted, letting his enclosed claw bang on his chest as he easily exposed his neck in deference. Gilda followed closely, though a bit more stiffly. “Good morning, Tribune Narada,” Fortrakt greeted her with a smile. “Greetings, Tribune.” Gilda did the same, though with less enthusiasm than her partner. Narada saluted back, her neck stiff and unmoving. She gave Fortrakt an approving smile, but gazed at Gilda coolly. “I’m glad to see you here, Decanus Behertz,” the Tribune declared somewhat dryly. “After our meeting three days ago, I was half-thinking you wouldn’t show up.” “As an Auxiliary Guard soldier, I shall fulfill my assigned duties to the Kingdom, sir,” Gilda replied neutrally, surprising herself by succeeding in keeping the disappointment and distaste from her voice and body language. “Indeed? That is very professional of you, Decanus,” Narada answered in approval. “The Kingdom appreciates your efforts, even when they involve tasks you don’t like. Such devotion to duty will be remembered.” With a parting nod, she took her leave. Fortrakt looked at the retreating Tribune before he turned to Gilda, who said nothing. “I thought you were joking when you said you were going to talk to the Tribune about taking a leave of absence,” he told her, a note of respect in his voice. “I don’t want to talk about it,” Gilda muttered, looking away. “So, the Tribune didn’t approve your leave, eh?” Fortrakt asked with a smirk. “Dare I inquire what happened when you asked?” “What do you think, dweeb?” Gilda’s eyes narrowed as her mind went to the conversation. <-=======ooO Ooo=======-> “What do you mean ‘no’, Tribune?” Gilda asked. The Tribune looked up from behind her desk in annoyance. “Is there something wrong with your brain, Behertz? ‘No’ is a very simple word.” “With all due respect—” “And by that you mean ‘Kiss my tail, Tribune?’” Narada asked, her right eye growing slightly bigger than her left as said tail lashed behind her, thumping audibly on the floor. “I expected far better of you than such a last-second request with no justification beyond an obvious distaste for our visitors.” Gilda shifted uncomfortably as she stood at attention, recognizing she was on the verge of severely overflying her accumulated goodwill and overtaxing the Tribune’s patience. “No, sir. But I just thought—“ “Thought nothing, Behertz! The answer is no! Even if I’d granted you leave before we learned the humans were coming, I would have rescinded it—we had to recall all soldiers on leave to make sure we had sufficient strength to secure the city, given the high stakes and the number of visitors involved. “But even if not, Her Majesty wishes that all soldiers be present on this historic day, as both a show of strength and a statement of Gryphon solidarity. Be assured you can take your well-deserved leave later—if, that is, you convince me this visit was just an aberration and perform to my satisfaction in the days to come!” she stated in a warning tone. “But for now, your request is most emphatically denied, and if you wish it fulfilled later, I suggest you give me no further cause to doubt your devotion to duty! Is that clear, Decanus?” “Clear, sir.” Gilda came to attention and saluted, biting her tongue to make sure she didn’t say something more she’d quickly and sorely regret. <-=======ooO Ooo=======-> “I bet you left her office with all your feathers ruffled like a fledgling,” Fortrakt continued, his smile growing. “You were probably thinking of telling her off.” Gilda sighed. He was right, and yet... “I do not want to talk about it,” she repeated. “Well, I hate to say I told you so, but I did,” Fortrakt continued. “I mean, what were you thinking? Just three days before one of the most important and historical visits to the Kingdom, and you decide to…” “Dweeb.” Gilda rolled her eyes as she mentally tuned out his incessant yammering. She could have pulled rank on him to make him shut up, but she didn’t, knowing he’d just see that as another victory. Walking stiffly and official-looking towards the gate, she spotted the other Auxiliary Guards soldiers of her Turma clamoring around the area, also attired in dress uniform while talking amongst themselves.  Some were even conversing with Fortis Knights, whose armor pieces were tinted gold as opposed to the straight silver of the Talons. It wasn’t just for appearances; their armor was much stronger both in terms of steel and protective enchantments, as befit the Kingdom’s elite. They had their heavy shields and enormous war hammers secured at their sides; ones Gilda could barely heft but they could swing with ease. Then there were the silver-armored Talon regulars with black dress uniforms as opposed to the blue of the Guard sitting along the wall as well, their spears set lazily against the vertical surface. She even spotted a single violet-attired Magus Knight meditating, hovering in the air with her levitation magic alone while her staff floated lazily in front of him, spinning slowly. Ancestors, she thought. All the separate service branches of the Kingdom’s armed forces were present short of the Navy, including the Talons, all three types of Knights, and the Auxiliary Guards. Then a pulsing thrum overhead made her realize she’d been wrong there too, as the GKS Jeyenne came into view along with her three escorts.  Comprising the capital defense group, the airships took position over the arrival route of the human convoys, able to either fire a salute from her numerous Minotaur-made ballistae or turn them on the air and road routes into the city. The quartet of heavily armed airships represented the Kingdom’s ability to project power both within her own borders and over them, if she desired. Tribune Narada wasn’t kidding, she granted with some renewed respect. The Kingdom really was taking greeting the humans seriously, even if she still didn’t understand why. “Isn’t this overdoing it?” she asked Fortrakt as they took position with their Turma near the entrance of the gate. The younger griffon looked at her and shrugged. “Well, if these humans are the apex predators of their world as these Equestrians claim, then they should understand a show of force is a sign of respect,” Fortrakt replied. “Besides, we don’t want to give an impression that we’re pushovers, right?” “Maybe. It just seems like we’re showing too much of our capabilities before knowing theirs. If they do decide to fight us, they’d have the advantage.” A few guards’ feathers fluffed, their eyes shifting to Gilda’s and Fortrakt’s direction. “Excuse me, Decanus—but are you two talking about the apes?” asked one of her decade’s younger Spears. “Yup!” Fortrakt replied with a smile. “We’re just wondering if they’re really worth all this trouble.” “They might be. I heard they were the only sapient creatures of their world,” a tiercel member of her decade interjected. “That means they’re warlike since they probably wiped out all their rival races to be on top, just like we did the Yaks.” “I heard they didn’t kill off anyone and didn’t have any rival races,” One of her decade’s three Gladios replied. “Really? Even the crows know that’s stupid! We live with a bunch of Ponies and Zebras and Ibexians and Harpies and even Abyssinians. But you’re telling me that they live on their world alone?” the tiercel retorted. “That’s what the ponies are saying,” the eagless shrugged. “Then you’re an idiot for believing them!” The eagless’ feathers ruffled as her tail lashed and eyes narrowed. She quickly jabbed her fist into the tiercel’s neck, delivering a near-mortal insult that got a few ooohs from the crowd. “I’m starting to think I’ve had you cleaning the latrines too long,” she muttered with a hard tone, then grinned evilly. “Or maybe you might need to clean a few more!” “And here we go,” Gilda sighed as the discussion suddenly became louder and was no longer confined to her decade as more griffons, Guards, Talons, and even some Knights, joined in the conversation, arguing amongst themselves regardless of service or relative rank. “Yup, here we go.” Fortrakt nodded, his eyes rolling. He watched as the large group began to shout out their points. Some were already butting heads. “See, this is exactly what we need—to show the humans that we’re willing to fight, even against ourselves!” he shouted the last part loudly, but was largely ignored. The bickering reached a point that a nearby Talon Centurion authorized the setting of a duel ring, around which soldiers from the different branches began to form a loose circle; those planning to fight stripping off their formal uniforms and meticulously shined armor so as not to mar them. In the center, there were griffons pitted against opponents of their choosing, engaging in full-contact sparring as occasional wagers were made on their outcome. It was a normal state of affairs in the Kingdom’s military, serving the dual purpose of allowing a safe way to settle grudges between soldiers, or just generally let them release some tension and let off steam, as she’d heard ponies say, so they could later focus on their jobs and the real enemies.  Gilda herself had participated in a few of them, winning a match or two before losing out when a much stronger or better-skilled opponent bested her. Today, though, she was happy just to watch, if for no other reason than that she didn’t want to take off her dress uniform for how hard it would be to get back on. Bets were made in both gems and duties; ones that even the older centurions joined in. For the moment, no one cared about rank or the impending human arrival as the action opened with her tiercel Spear and eagless Gladio fighting with the latter winning easily, though she relented on the threat of more latrine duty.  She was swiftly and soundly beaten by a Talon Second Spear in the next match, however, and before long, the ring was being dominated by an imposing Fortis Knight Centurion named Brutus, who mowed through his first five opponents before he was outmaneuvered and submitted by a female Wind Knight First Spear, to Gilda’s delight. She won two more rounds before getting overconfident and falling to a far more experienced Optio; an earth griffon tiercel who was second in command of his Century and embarrassed her by outfighting her in the air. For nearly twenty minutes, there were cheers and shouts, jeers and laughter as ranks and services were forgotten in favor of simple fighting skill. But it didn’t last. Just before the Talon could face his third opponent, a shout rang out from above: “All soldiers stand to! The humans are coming!” The cheers instantly ceased as the duel ring fell silent. The Talon Centurion, the highest-ranked griffon present, turned his eyes towards the patrolling griffons in the rampart above the gate. “Confirm!” There was a pause before a Wind Knight Decurion exposed his head from above, looking down at the gathering. “Three more confirmations! The human convoy is approaching!” The Centurions were the first to stand. The lead centurion, a female griffon with vibrantly hued red feathers—Gilda suspected they were dyed, which was strictly against regulations—took note of the others and faced the soldiers. “Griffons! Stand to and stand proud!” she bellowed as every griffon instantly snapped to attention, combatants hastily pulling their armor back on and occasionally cursing as they found it just as difficult as Gilda had. But with the help of their comrades and the use of special brushes to remove dust and restore metallic gleams, they were presentable again within a minute and entered formation. The duels forgotten, all present were shortly dressed and ready, necks straight, ready to receive orders. Satisfied, the senior Centurion continued his instructions. “Form up with your centuries! You have already been briefed on what to expect. Centurions and Decurions will advise you on your formation. Remember to give the apes a good impression, but even in the face of hostile threats, take no action without orders! Are we clear?” “Yes, sir” everyone shouted their reply with a simultaneous salute and then dispersed. “Summon the Tribune!” the lead Centurion shouted, her voice clear even amongst the bustle. Gilda couldn’t hear the rest as she and Fortrakt fought through the crowd. Auxiliary Guards were positioned at the very back. They weren’t front-line soldiers or specialized like the Knights, but they were the last line of defense in case the others were overrun. As Gilda took her place, she watched as the Knights began to converge in their own groups. Fortis Knights were gathering in the gate, securing their helmets and shields. It was the normal state of affairs, as the Fortis Knights were always at the forefront of both attack and defense. The Talons joined them soon after, as was proper given the two branches often worked together. According to Kingdom military doctrine, the Fortis Knights would act as shock troops on the attack, breaching ground defenses for the far more numerous Talons to exploit. They also worked in close coordination with the Wind Knights, who positioned themselves behind the Talons on the high ground of the merlons and other battlements; it was their job to control the skies above and take care of any airborne threats, while also performing sudden strikes and deep penetration raids against surface targets behind enemy lines. Sky griffons like Gilda, they were able to fight from the ground, but that was not preferred given their weaker bodies—a hard-learned lesson of the long-past Gryphon-Pony War was that sky griffons could take ground but not generally hold it against a determined earth pony counterattack. If they were sent to seize a position, relief in the form of earth griffon support had to follow quickly, or it was reasonably certain they’d be driven off. She next spotted two Magus Knights take to the sky and settle right with the Wind Knights on top of the Western Gate, bracketing it. That, too, was hardly surprising; Magus wanted to be in the air so they could use their ranged attacks more effectively, which included elemental assaults like fire, ice, or especially lightning. They were typically assigned to units in pairs, redoubling their effectiveness for having one able to act as a shield and the other, the sword. Speaking of swords, in ages past, griffon soldiers had been equipped with scimitars as a matter of course. But though swordsgriffonship was—and remained—a revered fighting art, to use them properly took time and training, and nowadays, only the best soldiers, like the Wind Knights or the secretive Ravens, wielded them. In contrast, spears were easy enough to master and quite lethal, and the much more general use of steel claws than had been known in Imperial times allowed griffon soldiers to fight far more naturally and instinctively with minimal training. As they scrambled into formation, Gilda’s throat gave out a harsh trill when she felt someone brush her wings. She looked around, but with the crowd moving, it was most likely an accidental brush-up and she couldn’t identify the griffon responsible.  Just as well, or she’d probably have slammed them into the nearest wall.  Calming herself down, she began to push through the thick crowd. She lost Fortrakt for a moment before she saw him ahead of her, his talons waving at her. With one last effort, she pushed through the claustrophobic crowd and joined her fellow Guards in the rear ranks. “Took your time, Behertz,” Giraldi, a large male earth griffon with metal shoulder pauldrons, greeted her. He was a First Spear, the ranking enlisted of her century; and despite his demonstrated skill, he was an easy-going griffon with nearly two decades of experience in the Guard. “Why, Giraldi? Am I missing an invasion yet?” Gilda replied with a sly grin. Both bared their throats, Gilda exposing hers a degree more, while they saluted each other with a solid bang of their shoulder plates. His eyes narrowed in mock warning—there were few superiors Gilda would feel comfortable teasing like this, but he was one. “If these apes are hostile and pass our defenses, I’m going to see you eat those words, Decanus.” “Won’t happen, First Spear,” Gilda snickered. “I’ll just act as any Guardsgriffon under your command would—stand back and let you fight them alone, lest I mess up my dress uniform.” Giraldi guffawed, as did the rest of Gilda’s decade. Shaking his head, he shouted a command for the Guardsgriffons to form up around him; he ordered them to assemble into three Turmas, three decades deep. Gilda would have loved to have been further up in the formation, but as she lacked seniority, she and Fortrakt were stuck in the middle with the second turma on the ground behind the gate, probably a good seven rows from the front line. From her position, her eagle-eyes swept through the gate, and shortly locked on to a series of small dotted figures moving through the skies. She could reasonably guess it was an air coach; maybe a six-seater, pulled and carried by five sky griffons. That wasn’t the only thing she noticed. A rising column of dust was also present in the distance, probably caused by ground coaches. They would be pulled either by griffons or Caleponian earth ponies, and judging by the amount of powder they’d kicked up, they were coming in big numbers. Five minutes later, Tribune Narada arrived, marching down the ranks of readied soldiers. Satisfied, she turned and stood calmly in the front line, watching the approaching shadows. The Talons and Fortis Knights stood proudly, unwavering, as five more minutes passed and the air coach finally came into view. It was a boxy wooden structure with lines extending outwards to connect to the harness of the four sky-griffons carrying it, and escorted by an entire century of green-armored Paladins in a defensive formation. As they began to descend between the bracketing airships, Gilda was surprised that not just the escorts but the carriers themselves were Paladins instead of mere Talons or even elite Knights, meaning whoever was inside was probably influential, and thus accorded both maximum honor and protection. The lead shouted an ‘all-clear’ command, most likely for the Wind Knights spread out at the rampart—Gilda could imagine the anxious soldiers raising their crossbows and getting ready to fire—before they landed smoothly about ten paces from the Tribune. They landed a bit awkwardly, with the Paladins carrying the coach showing signs of fatigue—no surprise, given they’d flown their guests all the way in from Loondon, which was a long way to fly for even the most conditioned Wind Knights. Still, when they saw the Tribune, they immediately saluted. The lead Wind Knight then addressed her, though the exact words escaped Gilda. She could guess they were formalities, trying to get everything clear and out of the way. Whatever was said, Narada nodded, and the lead Wind Knight approached the side of the air coach. He rapped his claw on the door once, made some announcement she couldn’t hear, and then opened it. The first one to step out was an older earth griffon, clothed in Equestrian-made clothing that softened his hardened features, though he carried himself with the same proud stance befitting his heritage. Even from far away, Gilda recognized him as Salva Strenus, the Griffon Kingdom’s Ambassador to Equestria. And following him was… Despite the fact she was supposed to be standing at attention with her gaze fixed straight ahead, she stared. For whatever she’d been expecting was anything but the creature she beheld. How could she describe them? The human that emerged looked far too different from any primate she’d ever seen to be even remotely considered an ape. It was a tall, bipedal being that wore clothing similar to an Equestrian business suit for a stallion, though it was far more plain than the more ornate offerings the ponies came up with.  It consisted of grey slacks and jacket offset with shined brown hoof coverings and accented with but a single splash of muted red on its necktie—a garment that always struck her as completely dweeby to say nothing of utterly impractical in battle for how easy it could give an opponent the ability to strangle you. More humans soon followed, but these, near as she could tell, were dressed far more casually. The first that emerged wore simple white covers below the neck, short-sleeved and exposing two pale lanky limbs—arms, like a dragon or Diamond Dog, she assumed—covered with what she could just see was very fine hair that struck her as utterly useless against the cold of the north. Those same lanky limbs ended with something that resembled Minotaur paws, complete with spindly digits that looked both too weak to lift and too dull to scratch. Its legs were hidden under slightly blotchy blue coverings and there was some sort of covering on its hind… paws? Hooves? Which jutted out far more than pony or even griffon equivalents would. Its face had some hair on its chin, two small eyes, a short but prominent snout, a short tuft of unruly brown hair on top of its head, and two ears she could only call petite, leaving her wondering how well they heard at all. Not that griffons were ones to talk, given their nonexistent external ears, but their internal ones were very good, leaving them able to hear the barest of whispers in the wind. She watched the more formally attired human talk to the Ambassador, noting that its face expressed emotions as richly as any Equestrian pony did. As he did so, five more humans came out of the coach and they all had different skin tones and hair color. There were even two humans that seemed to be shaped slightly differently than the others, with wider hips and bulky expansions on their chest. Gilda wondered how they fought with those in the way, then wondered in turn how such oddly shaped and ungainly creatures could fight at all. The Ambassador guided the humans towards the Tribune with a sweeping motion of his foreleg. They talked, and then the business-suited human offered its arm, hand open, towards Narada. The Tribune took a moment, before the Ambassador gave a nod, and she grasped the human’s forearm to shake it in a mutual gesture, one griffons used but ponies did not like for making them vulnerable to predator talons. The ground then vibrated as the unmistakable clip-clop sound of horseshoes announced the arrival of the rest of the convoy. Well-dressed Caleponian earth ponies pulled large ground coaches, long wooden boxy wheeled structures, not unlike the wagons ponies favored, with seating capacities of twenty griffons. When they came to a stop, the doors popped open, and the humans inside pushed themselves out and quickly went to a loose line formation. These members of the alien race looked larger and stronger, and were all dressed the same, in strange, splotchy green uniforms over which sat some kind of bulky vest—given the sameness of their attire, were they military? And was that vest, therefore, some kind of armor? Fortrakt’s thinking tracked hers. “By their build and manner, I’m guessing those are human soldiers. What’s your count of them?” he whispered beside her, breaking her train of thought. “Let’s see…” Gilda did some clumsy mental arithmetic. So far, one coach had almost thirty humans—a tight fit by any measure—and with seven or eight coaches visible, taking into account the humans were likely bringing some form of gear and luggage, she guessed they numbered around… “I’m thinking two centuries strong. You?” “My headcount is around one hundred eighty. Odd, considering I see eight coaches. Shouldn’t that be around two hundred forty? I could be wrong.” Gilda didn’t doubt Fortrakt’s numbers, as he was far better at math than she. Still, she shook her head over his inexperience. “Your headcount is probably right. The extra coaches are most likely human supplies.” “Ah, got it. Still, Ancestors, these creatures are tall. Somewhat colorful, I guess. All earth tones, ranging from pale pink to ebony skin, and look at the manes on top of their heads,” Fortrakt muttered. “I noticed most of them are wearing identical clothing. Green with different colored patterns plus those odd vests… uniforms and armor, maybe?” Gilda gave a slight nod. “That’s my guess as well. Hard to say what’s normal for them, but they look fit enough to be soldiers.” Fortrakt hummed thoughtfully. “I’ll give them credit—they came in force. I’m counting at least thirty non-uniformed humans. That’s about five soldiers assigned per human? Wow. Ponies usually send only what, fifteen guards for five diplomats? Even Celestia doesn’t rate more than a couple Turmas of Guardsponies.” He was right, and Gilda had to admit the humans were putting up quite a good projection of power, even by griffon standards. Still, she didn’t see how they were apex predators or could fight griffons, unless… “Those black tubes that are slung over their shoulders and strapped to their sides. Weapons?” she wondered aloud. “Makes sense if they’re soldiers,” Fortrakt replied with a nod. “I have no idea how they’re supposed to be used though. No blades, no bows, and no quiver of arrows? I guess they’re some kind of blunt weapons.” “So these humans evolved their fighting through close combat?” Gilda paraphrased. “Seems unlikely for such vulnerable forms.” Fortrakt snickered. “Ancestors, if they fight standing up in lines like we do, they’ll be wiped out by our spears and crossbows. We wouldn’t even have to use blades or claws on them.” Gilda was about to warn Fortrakt that underestimating the enemy would get any soldier killed when Giraldi harshly whispered, “Quiet on the line!” Fortrakt shut his beak and the rest of the muttered conversations around them fell silent, giving Gilda a little more time to contemplate the strange human weapons before she noticed that some of the non-uniformed humans that rode the air coaches were grouping together. She also noticed one particular human, who didn’t immediately join the others. It was instead talking to the uniformed humans, getting some reaction. Gilda noted that it wore a grey top and blue leg covers. It also had brown-colored skin and cropped ebony black hair. It then turned its eyes to Arnau, and its lips broke out in a… smile? Yup, it was a smile, showing two rows of off-white teeth. For being predators, Gilda thought their canines were much too small. The way the ponies talked about them, she’d have thought they’d be more impressive. Then again, sharp teeth, no matter how small, tended to make ponies nervous, she recalled with a grin. She noted instantly that the human seemed quite impressed at seeing Arnau. Pride welled within her to see his awestruck reaction, though she didn’t understand what he was doing when he removed a small rectangular object and pointed it towards the city, holding it in the air. She then looked towards the other non-uniformed humans, seeing if their expressions matched his; she was gratified to see that they did. Some were even pointing out its white walls to each other, their heads nodding as they spoke in low tones. It took a moment, but the non-uniformed humans (from both air and ground coaches) finally grouped together. Gilda’s eyes were once more on the brown human who was walking towards its compatriot, one with pale skin and short curly red hair. The two approached and each of their hands slapped together, producing quite a strange sound of sharp, escaping air before they talked in an animated fashion before joining the rest of the group. Even as a visibly annoyed human Ambassador spoke to them sharply and motioned them to follow, leading them to the city gates, they wouldn’t stop talking. Now that the humans were approaching, Gilda made sure her posture was straight. She kept her face impassive as the group passed her, even though she couldn’t see much through the first six rows of griffon soldiers. Still, she was close enough to both hear and scent them; the first thought that formed in her mind as she caught an initial whiff of their odor was that they didn’t smell as bad as she thought, given her past experience with apes. Sure, they had that tell-tale musk of having traveled an enormous distance, which was common to any creature that spent too much time in air or ground carriages, but it was in no way offensive to her. Underneath it was an earthier but not unpleasant spoor that had some strange appeal; for as good as they smelled, a darker part of her mind wondered how they actually tasted. “Will you look at that! Steampunk airships! They’re right out of Final Fantasy! And check out the city! It’s just like Minas Tirith!” the brown-skinned human declared to its red-haired companion as they stopped in front of Gilda’s formation and looked around, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they could be easily overheard by griffon ears, even with the low voices they were speaking. Steampunk? Final Fantasy? Gilda repeated the unfamiliar terms to herself, having never heard their like in Equestria. The speaker’s voice was masculine, she noted even as she further wondered what ‘Minas Tirith’ was. Was the speaker male? Did humans even have genders? Or did they just reproduce asexually like Timberwolves were said to? “Marco, can you shut it? No one wants to hear your lame opinions,” another human, a short-haired one with those odd protrusions on its chest area, declared in a feminine voice. Female, then? If so, it made sense the protrusions would be her mammary glands, even if they were very awkwardly placed. From her proficiency in Equish, Gilda also noticed that the human’s tone of voice indicated some sort of annoyance; maybe even anger. She was… frowning. “Girl, what is your problem?” a second (presumably) female human asked her, raising her voice slightly. “You know my problem—it’s him! So stop being a dumbass already, Marco. Ooh, lookie lookie! They’re like some stupid video game or movie from twenty years ago! If you like Ring Lords so much, go buy a Lego set! Next thing you know, you’ll be asking those griffons for a sword and armor so you can play some stupid character.” “Stupid, you say?” The male—Marco, was it?—just smirked. “I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn! I wield Anduril, Flame of the West! Do you want to see it, my dear Gimli?” and he ended it with a thrust of his… hips? Gilda’s right eye grew a bit bigger. Was he…? “Ugh, you’re a pervert, Marco!” the annoyed human (Gimli?) declared. “A total perv!” Fotrakt’s throat was making an odd sound. Gilda was sure he was stifling laughter, an assessment confirmed as he nudged her with his foreleg. “Wow. I really like this human!” he whispered. “You would,” Gilda muttered with a roll of her eyes. She watched as the other female suddenly guffawed, earning a warning glance from the human ambassador and an irritated glare from the angered Gimli before she stormed away from this ‘Marco’—or was it Aragorn, son of Arathorn?. Her facial features looked quite… mashed, for the lack of a better term, and for supposedly apex predators, they didn’t seem to have much of an ability to bite. The human with the earthy red hair then approached Marco/Aragorn. “Marco, man, one of these days Dana’s going to bust your balls.” “If she can find them,” the female human with long yellow hair declared with a smirk as she crossed her forelegs over her bulky chest. But far from amused, that earned a squished-face reaction from the two males. It looked like they winced, Gilda decided, if the way the humans displayed emotions was the same as the ponies. She had a guess of what ‘balls’ might mean, but kept it to herself. If it referred to what she was thinking, then humans had entirely different terms for various gender attributes than either griffons or ponies used. “Tara!” the red-haired human declared in a sharp but low voice. Gilda was reasonably sure Tara was the yellow-haired female’s name. “Oh, come off it Chris, I didn’t mean it that way!” a chagrined Tara quickly corrected. “I was just saying she couldn’t find her own ass with a map and a flashlight, much less someone’s scrotes. Besides, ‘Ring Lords’? Christ Almighty. The books have been out there for something like sixty years, and the movies are available in 4K! There is no way she should have gotten the name wrong! So someone tell me again why the hell she’s here on this trip anyway, embarrassing us in front of the griffons? She’ll probably act worse than in Equestria.” Her voice then turned high pitched, trying to mimic the Gimli human. “‘Oh, why is there no internet? Where’s the room service? Why can’t I get a good steak? Why are their toilets just holes in the floor? Oh, disgusting, they are naked! I can see their schlongs!’” she said in a deliberately bad imitation of the other female’s voice. “Come on, she ain’t that bad,” Chris replied in an equally low voice as he scanned the rows of griffon soldiers, making Gilda wonder again if they knew that they could be heard, and that there were griffons who understood the Equish language they spoke. “Chris, dude, I love you, but I have to agree with Tara,” Marco replied, at least momentarily more interested in the city before him than the griffons guarding it. “She has no charm, skill, or purpose in life except to get on our nerves, rile up twitter mobs and run up dinner bills. But all that aside? I’m sure she’s a wonderful human being!” he seemed to deliberately raise his voice enough for Gimli to hear him, earning a glower from her as she stuck close to the Ambassador. Gilda highly doubted that, sensing some echo of her younger self in the departed Gimli. Please tell me that I wasn’t that annoying and obnoxious? she silently begged her Ancestors as Gimli looked ready to stalk back over to Marco and challenge him to a duel on the spot. “You only agree with me because I have a nice ass,” Tara declared with a smile and a raised voice of her own, causing Gilda to blink—that was the second time Tara had mentioned donkeys. Apparently, Gimli couldn’t find hers, and Tara had a nice one. Wait—was having a donkey part of their culture? Did that mean they had slavery, which was an institution both ponies and griffons had abandoned a millennium before? It made no sense if the ponies were claiming humans were the sole sapient species of their world. “Well, it is a very fine ass, no doubt,” Marco agreed in what she could only describe as an exaggerated manner, positioning himself slightly to... was he leering at the female human’s rear? Gilda’s eyes narrowed—he was! Her thoughts of donkeys evaporated when she saw him look exactly like a pervy griffon, one that was unbelievably brazen in his display. It immediately caused Gimli to turn away in disgust, abandoning any intention to go back to him. Gilda could understand her reaction. She felt her hackles rise, and she sensed from some sounds of ruffling feathers that she wasn’t the only one. Such things were reserved for mates in griffon society, and in private places at that—griffons were not voyeurs; they most certainly did not openly leer at the hindquarters of other griffons! “Wow... this guy is a pervert,” Fortrakt whispered, though there was a tone of admiration in his voice. “If he does that to me, I’ll rip him open,” Gilda muttered, to some equally muttered sounds of agreement from the other eaglesses around her. “Well, in fairness, he was just admiring her. I mean, that human female does have a nice rear end… for a biped!” he hastily added at the looks he got, not just from Gilda, but from the rest of the griffons around them. Marco continued, unaware of Gilda’s antagonistic thoughts, “Dana’s only here thanks to her Senator daddy,” Marco said, looking a bit… disgusted? And that was interesting—humans had senators too? So Gimli (or Dana? She wasn’t sure. Human names were definitely weird) was the daughter of someone important? Human hierarchy dynamics were still unclear to her. She didn’t want to assume that this Marco was of a lower standing, but if he was, his blatant disrespect towards Gimli, especially in public and under foreign scrutiny, annoyed her far more than the idea of him simply being perverted. Granted, she had met a lot of arrogant offspring of entitled nobles both in the Kingdom and in Equestria, and she also granted that with a few notable exceptions, the lot of them were nothing more than immature cubs. But if this Gimli really bothered Marco, why didn’t he just challenge her to a duel and get it over with? Probably only talks big. Bet he’s actually a coward, Gilda thought harshly, her eyes narrowing towards the brown-skinned human. “I just hope she doesn’t annoy the Griffons too much,” Marco said and then, perhaps sensing her stare, looked directly at Gilda for a moment. He hid it well, but Gilda caught him shivering for just a second. She felt triumphant and hardened her gaze. “Gotta say, they look ready to eviscerate us at a moment’s notice,” he said under his breath, which was useless against griffon senses. Gilda couldn’t suppress a smile. Yup, he’s just a coward. As they went on their way, they were followed by a few uniformed humans—presumably their armed escorts. Gilda was glad for the distraction. She’d rather take a closer look at their weapons than think about that Marco. Then Fortrakt nudged her. She stared at him, annoyed. “What?” “Maybe my Equish is rusty. But what in the crows is a four-kay?” Fortrakt asked. “Or a ‘final fantasy’? Or a flashlight?” “No idea.” Gilda shrugged. “I never heard those words before either. Probably some human things.” “Ah.” Fortrakt paused. He opened his beak, then closed it again and grinned. “What?” Gilda asked. “Humans are weird. Fun, but weird.” “Then you can have them,” Gilda groused. “Me, I’ll just be happy when they’re gone.”