//------------------------------// // Part Fourteen // Story: The Princess and the Kaiser // by UnknownError //------------------------------// Flurry Heart adjusted her headphones again. The ear pieces were meant for a griffon, so the headphones sat awkwardly atop her mane and scrunched against her ears. She had to fold her ears against her head to accommodate it; they twitched under the thin cushions and she could hear her heartbeat. She glanced over to the empty stool and the griffons in the control and sound room behind a glass window. Flurry had been to Weter Radio countless times over six years to function as a propaganda mouthpiece, and they had never bothered to purchase an appropriate headset for a pony. Flurry snorted; the microphone in front of her picked it up. One of the griffons in the sound booth looked up. He tapped on the glass and held a piece of paper up for Flurry to see. 5 Minutes Flying Late Flurry resisted snorting again. It took a special kind of arrogance for a griffon to be late to his own radio show, but it was an arrogance that Gavin Stormfront had mastered long before Flurry ever set a hoof in Nova Griffonia. Stormfront, a gray and blue griffon with beady eyes, had been Flurry’s interviewer for every prior occasion. He also interviewed Blackpeak and Kemerskai on his evening program, Nova by Night. Stormfront claimed neutrality, but the Weter Radio Corporation ran advertising for Blackpeak’s weapons and armaments. He liked to report news of criminal ponies being violently confronted at the dockyards for smuggling, and avoided reporting on the weekly corruption probes on Blackpeak by the legislature controlled by Kemerskai’s Republicans. Flurry hated Stormfront. She hated his smug, preening walk and the way he talked down to her during the interviews, as if she was a stupid foal in need of correction. Kemerskai hated how he took money from Blackpeak, so Stormfront was one of the rare areas that the two could find some common ground. Discounting the jury-rigged ham radio operators on the frontier, Weter Radio was the only broadcasting service capable of reaching all of Nova Griffonia and overseas. If Flurry wanted to speak to all of Nova Griffonia, she had to do it through the fat griffon. And today, on her sixteenth birthday, Flurry Heart needed to address her future. Stormfront, quite literally, slammed the door open and stormed into the studio, adjusting his dress shirt and tie. He desperately tried to get his wings through the holes in the shirt. Only poor Nova Griffonians didn’t wear some kind of clothing. Flurry ran a hoof over the frills of her simple, white dress. The griffon beamed at her. “You’re early!” he crowed. His neck bulged around the dress collar, indicating he put on more weight than the last time she saw him. “I’m punctual,” Flurry shrugged. Her headphones almost slipped off again at the movement. Flurry wrinkled her nose and sniffed as the griffon approached the booth and entered. The griffon settled onto the stool and grabbed his own headpiece and slipped it on. He turned and rapidly waved a claw at the sound room as the technical griffons scrambled to cut the music and begin the program. A red light came on as the music cut out. “Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Stormfront began in his smooth baritone, “to Nova by Night. I apologize for the delay. We have a special guest this cold winter night,” he smirked at Flurry, “and we’re eager to hear from her.” Stormfront snapped a claw. “But first, the weather! Our coastline is wracked by thunderstorms coming down from the Arctic Ocean. Stay safe and bundled up out there, cubs and chicks.” Flurry Heart tuned him out and sat quietly as the griffon launched through several news stories and advertisements. He avoided any anti-pony stories today, probably aware that pony citizens would be tuning in this evening. Flurry refocused as he took a breath. “Now,” Stormfront started, “I’m sure all the listeners at home are wondering about our guest. Well, wonder no longer! Weter Radio gives a warm birthday welcome to our newest citizen, Flurry Heart!” He gestured at Flurry to reply. Flurry leaned into the microphone. “Thanks, Gavin. It’s good to be back here.” “It’s been nearly a year, our little citizen,” the griffon chided, “but it’s good to hear you and see you in our studio again. Sixteen is a big number.” “It is,” Flurry enunciated. “You’ve been a refugee here for six years,” he summarized, “but this is the first year you’ve actually been in Weter on your birthday. You’ve made a tradition of touring the countryside on government money and speaking to the citizens taming the frontier.” Our money, Flurry thought. Blackpeak gave us nothing. “The frontier is notoriously underserviced and underprivileged,” Flurry said instead. “I was happy to give back to the poorest of the community that took me in.” “And they’ve been happy to welcome you over the years. At sixteen years old, you’re officially an adult and eligible for citizenship. I’m told you’ve already filed for citizenship and sworn an oath of loyalty to our great nation this morning,” Stormfront noted. “Yes, I wanted to make sure it was done quickly and properly.” Flurry had traveled to downtown Weter without escort and marched up to the Capitol Building, where the legislature met. It wasn’t the right place to apply for citizenship, but Flurry knew a grand gesture would be received better than going through the mundane proper channels. She swore the oath in front of photographers; the papers tomorrow would have her on the sixth or seventh page. “Does that mean you’ve renounced your titles?” “Am I wearing a crown?” Flurry asked back and risked tilting her head. “The only crown my guest is wearing is our headset,” Stormfront joked. “Is it difficult to give up on your dream?” he pressed. “Not at all,” Flurry carefully replied, “and my dream is to continue to advocate for our pony citizens, who still suffer from unequal wages and longer hours.” Stormfront hesitated and gave her a look. “Well, I’m sure some of our citizens appreciate their former Princess still speaking for them.” Flurry didn’t reply. “What are your plans for the future, Miss Flurry?” the griffon rallied. “I’ve already asked to join the Nova Griffonian Air Force,” Flurry answered. “I’m prepared to swear the oath of loyalty to defend the Republic of Nova Griffonia against all aggressors.” “I’m sure the air force will be proud to have a former Princess fly and fight for them,” Stormfront said. His tone was neutral enough that it could be taken as a gesture of support, or a joke. Thorax had already bribed an official to ensure her entry into the Weter air wing, the only air wing on the coast that had pegasi and bat ponies flying. Kemerskai’s Republicans dominated most of the other divisions, and Thorax didn’t want to risk an incident. It suited Flurry fine. Her goal was to win over some of the pilots and staff; Flurry could request a transfer to the frontier at her leisure, but the frontier was already practically hers. She had practiced with Rainbow Dash and Duskcrest for the past year out in the frontier, flying one of the old, early biplanes. A fighter would be very different, but Flurry had the basics down. “I’m happy to bring my skill and my magic to the battlefield, should it come to that,” Flurry smiled. “That brings us to our last news topic before the break,” Stormfront lowered his voice dourly. “The Griffonian Reich sits across the narrow strait. Rumors abound about the health of the regent, Archon Eros, and if he will survive to see the Kaiser crowned in a few months. There are whispers of discontent on the wind.” Stormfront leaned in conspiratorially. “It is known that the Kaiser and you share a certain,” he paused and searched for a word, “connection in your letters. Do you have any comment on what is happening?” “That’s a good way to say we argue and bicker,” Flurry laughed. “I haven’t seen a letter from the Kaiser for several years. I think he’s grown bored of me,” Flurry said with mock sadness. “You don’t believe the stories that the Archon collapsed of a stroke?” “I won’t comment on a rumor I can’t disprove,” Flurry said. “He’s been seen in public.” “From a distance,” Stormfront countered. “A changeling could be impersonating him.” He forced more horror and uncertainty into his voice. “A changeling could be impersonating the Kaiser himself. How often have the citizens of the Reich seen their sovereign?” Flurry played along. “Maybe that’s why I haven’t gotten any letters,” she worried. The radio was strong enough to be picked up in northern Griffonia, where Kemerskai’s father and the Republicans made their last stand. The Archon had banned the radio station, but there was no reliable way to stop griffons from tuning in. “We’ll pick that story back up later with comments from Queen Chrysalis,” Stormfront switched gears and resumed his comforting baritone. “Miss Flurry Heart, citizen and future flier: You have long made a habit of addressing our pony citizens after your birthday on my program.” “And I am very grateful for your generosity,” Flurry replied, as she always did. “Of course,” Stormfront laughed. “Do you have any advice or comments for them today?” Flurry took a breath and glanced down at her little notecards on the table. “You do not need a Princess to go on the radio and tell you how to feel,” she started. “Life has been hard for all of us, and we have lost much. When I travel, I am always proud to see how much we have contributed to Nova Griffonia. In the fall, Kemerskai promises to cut our wages and keep us down; he cannot believe we can be good, democratic citizens and fight for the Republic. I intend to prove him wrong.” She glanced up at Stormfront, who was fiddling with the rings on his claws. Flurry’s wings twitched. “Blackpeak offers us crumbs from the table and tells us we should be grateful.” Stormfront’s head snapped up and he glared at her. “I will not offer empty platitudes,” Flurry continued hurriedly, “but I will make you a promise: I do not wear a crown today, but I will not stop fighting for your rights. As long as we live, we have not lost.” Stormfront shifted to look over at the control room. The griffons inside moved frantically, but they failed to cut the alicorn off. The red light stayed on the whole time. “Well, that’s quite a speech from Miss Flurry,” Stormfront offered lamely. “I’ll be back after this hit single from the Wind Walkers.” He slashed a claw across his neck and glared at window. The red light switched off. Gavin scowled at her. “If your intention was to annoy Triton and Alexander, consider it accomplished. All you had to do was say, ‘I’m not a Princess,’ and ‘Vote for Blackpeak.’” “I’m an alicorn,” Flurry deflected. “What’s that old griffon saying?” She flapped a wing in mock thought. “Ah, yes! ‘Words are Wind.’ I can’t change what I am.” “And what exactly are you now?” Stormfront asked. Flurry smiled softly and examined the gold and silver rings on his claws. “You’re pretty wealthy from all this, right?” she asked. “Does it feel good, selling your feathers to the highest bidder?” “It keeps me out of Ponyville,” Stormfront rolled his eyes. Flurry laughed and took off the clunky headpiece with a hoof. “How expensive is it to buy a headpiece meant for a pony?” she asked sarcastically. Stormfront shrugged. “Why bother? You’re the only pony we let on, and you’ll be lucky to return after that stunt.” “I see, that makes sense,” Flurry nodded. “I’m glad you approve, Princess,” the griffon sneered, drawing out the last word. Flurry stood up and stretched her wings. “By the way,” she said conversationally, “you should definitely keep ponies out of here.” “Really?” Stormfront scoffed. “Our noses are far better than yours,” Flurry stated, “and I can smell your secretary all over you.” Flurry rolled her eyes. “Quite an accomplishment, flying late to your own radio program from chasing tail. I’m sure your wife will be pleased.” The griffon heaved himself upright, but Flurry lit her horn and he froze. Gavin sat back down, sweating and wings twitching. Flurry turned her horn and burned away the little pile of notecards on the table with blue sparks. It left a tidy pile of ash and a small wisp of smoke drifted to the ceiling. Flurry trotted and passed the sound studio and control room. One of the griffons offered a small nod, which Flurry returned. There was a rumble of thunder outside the building. Flurry Heart stopped in the lobby and stared at the sheets of rain falling down. It was terrible weather to fly back to the ghetto. She could teleport back; her guards were absent today to solidify her image as a common citizen. A typewriter clacked along with the sound of the rain falling against the windows. Flurry examined the front desk. The secretary, a young griffon chick barely older than herself, wasn’t there when the alicorn arrived at the building. She hadn’t fixed the feathers on her right wing, which were still out-of-place and rumpled. Her dress was slightly askew and one of the sleeves was torn. There was a piece of paper with ‘Cerie’ taped over the nameplate on the desk. Last time Flurry had been there, the secretary was a young griffon chick named Avrilla. The current secretary had orange feathers and heavy mascara around the eyes. She tapped away on her typewriter, seemingly budgeting out expenses from several papers. “Are you Aquileian?” Flurry guessed from the name. The griffon blinked shyly and stopped fidgeting with her papers and typewriter. She checked behind her before staring at Flurry. “Yes?” she offered uncertainly. “Did he promise you a raise?” Flurry asked in Aquileian. “I-I don’t know what you mean,” Cerie squawked back. The griffon clacked her beak and her brown eyes darted about the room. “I think he promised the last one airtime to sing,” Flurry continued in Aquileian. She gestured to the nameplate with a hoof. Cerie looked down at it, but smoothed out the paper with her name on it. Flurry’s tone softened. “You’re better off at the dockyards; it’s not as bad as the radio makes it sound. My ponies won’t force themselves on you, and most things aren’t about unloading crates. We could always use someone good with numbers.” “I tried the dockyards,” Cerie admitted in Aquileian, “after my mother died. They wanted the same thing he wants. I don’t have anyone to help,” she said in a small voice. “You talked to a Nova Griffonian,” Flurry dismissed. “Get in front of one of the unicorns around Pier Four, tell them I sent you. Keep repeating it; they’ll know if you’re lying. You’ll have a job by the end of the day if you can keep count. It’ll probably pay better, and nopony will ask you to stick your tail up.” Cerie looked back towards the studios with a fearful grimace. “No griffon here knows Aquileian,” Flurry said. “I know some Aquileians that have some spare rooms. I’m going to meet them tomorrow at the Veteran’s Hall. I can ask around,” Flurry offered. Cerie twisted her claws. “He promised to help me.” “He makes a lot of promises. He never keeps any of them,” Flurry snorted. Cerie didn’t have an answer to that. She kept her head down and wringed her claws. Her wings fluttered nervously. “I’m going to talk to my friends about you,” Flurry said, “and you’ll go down to the dockyards later and talk to my unicorns. You’ll get a job down there, and somepony will tell you where there’s a place to stay. It’ll be hard, but it’s better than this.” The griffon shook her head back and forth. “I can’t leave,” she said. “I signed a contract. I have to stay.” Flurry Heart narrowed her eyes. “I don’t care. He doesn’t either. He threw the last secretary out on the street once he was bored with her, contract or not. I’m going to look for you in a week,” she promised, “and I don’t want to find you here, okay?” Cerie gulped and nodded. Flurry nodded back and swished her tail. She paused at the doors to the street. It was raining even harder outside now. Flurry’s ears twisted as she heard the secretary sniffle. She chewed her bottom lip, then turned over her shoulder to look back. “How old are you?” she asked in Aquileian. The griffon wiped some mascara from her eyes. “Eighteen,” she lied. “Happy Birthday, Princess,” she offered with a trembling beak. Princess Flurry Heart smiled back and stepped out into the rain. She didn’t bother with a shield; she let the rain slip between her feathers and smother her curls. Grover will send me a letter. He’s meticulous; we’ll plan it out. He’ll keep his promise. The alicorn stood on the street for a moment longer, then her horn lit up and she teleported away with a crack.