Chapter Twelve: The Capital
“… on the roster today: buh-lightfish. Can you season them enough to make them not only edible, but … enjoyable? Joining me today to answer that question is the Family’s chief chef. Wel-come to the program,” the Commonwealth Crooner said as I activated Distribution Station 2.
I’d achieved a good coverage of the north Griffin Commonwealth with all the distribution stations I’d activated thus far, but there were still gaps to fill. Before I headed back down the river to the Pleasure Coast, I figured I’d fill in some of those gaps—including the one left by DS-2, which included Brittle Pass. I knew nobody lived there, at least not at ground-level, but it would give me something to listen to on my way back through other than the Rockfall Hotel announcements. There was a nearby griffin roost that I debated visiting before heading back, but since my record with roosts so far was about 50/50 for success, avoiding it unless I needed something was probably the best course. The riverside road I’d followed most of the way here did loop around to one other griffin roost that I was considering visiting, though. Shearpoint, the capital of the Griffin Commonwealth, was at the heart of the area, and I’d been slowly circling in on it for a while now; it seemed inevitable that my journey would end there. There was also, according to my PipBeak’s map, a distribution station near it that would plug the last big gap in the north Griffin Commonwealth without access to Radio Free Wasteland or Radio PC.
I locked in my changes in the distribution station before leaving. I still had some time to make up my mind before I had to decide where to go. First I’d have to descend the stairs beneath the distribution station and make my way back through the valley below to the road. When I exited the distribution station’s control room, there was a flock of six griffins waiting for me outside, and they didn’t look very happy. None were aggressive, but their readied weapons made it clear that they weren’t going to let me just trot past. All were wearing full sets of green combat barding with the eleven-striped flag of the Griffin Commonwealth on the shoulder pads, GM XV overlaid on the left flag.
“You must be Doc,” the griffin standing at the center of the formation said accusatorially.
Judging by the winged skulls accompanying the flags on his shoulder pads, I gathered he was the one in charge here—a sergeant or commander of some sort. He also didn’t have any weapons at the ready, confident that the other griffins would be able to take care of me if it came to shooting. His reasoning was astute, seeing as how the PipBeaks built into each griffins’ armor denied me my biggest advantage. I noticed with surprise that he too had a prosthetic arm very nearly identical to mine, though it looked less out of place on him.
“I am,” I answered. Probably unwise, but I didn’t see any point in lying; the likelihood of there being another unicorn in a yellow doctor’s coat with a prosthetic griffin leg in the Commonwealth was incredibly slim. I was just too conspicuous.
“You’re coming with us,” the griffin leader announced, as if it were an undeniable fact. “Grand Marshal Gideon wants to have a talk with you.”
“I suppose saying ‘no thanks’ really isn’t an option?” I asked as I shifted into a ready stance.
“No, it isn’t,” the griffin leader said, his face hard.
“Okay then,” I said, resigned. “Let’s go.”
***
They didn’t make it as simple as just accompanying them to Shearpoint, of course. The griffins, who I’d later learn were the grand marshal’s personal squad of enforcers, treated it as an arrest and stripped me naked of everything I had. They took turns carrying me to Shearpoint and kept me restrained when camping at night, ensuring no chances to escape. When we did reach Shearpoint, I wasn’t taken to Grand Marshal Gideon. Instead, the grand marshal’s troops took me to a prison where I was locked up and made to wait for the grand marshal.
During my sojourn there, it occurred to me more than once that the griffins had never actually said that I was to be taken to the Grand Marshal Gideon for an audience—only that they were taking me to Shearpoint because he wanted to speak with me. I had no idea what crime they had incarcerated me for. Since the jailor refused to answer any questions, I was stuck in a cell trying to puzzle out what steps had led me to this point. The grand marshal might be upset about my interference with his plans for Lockbox 17, but would that really be considered a crime? Apparently, I still didn’t fully understand how things worked in the Griffin Commonwealth; this was the second time I’d been thrown in jail, both times without legal reason.
I spent a week in that prison cell and became acquainted with every corner of it. It was underground, built into the rock of the mountain upon which Shearpoint was perched, and without windows of any sort. The only light source was a dull bulb in the corridor outside. Not that I needed better light for reading, since the Book of Rok was among my confiscated possessions. My PipBeak had suffered the same fate, which meant I couldn’t listen to the radio or even track the passage of time. The bulb outside was constantly lit, and I soon went astray from a normal sleep schedule. All I could do was pace a small circuit within my cell and think, clueless about what this internment was meant to accomplish.
The leader of the group who’d hauled me in reappeared once they’d decided I’d waited long enough. He was in a dress uniform now, similar to what I’d seen members of the Weather Corps wearing in Brinkfall. The main difference was the color: instead of sky blue, this uniform’s fabric was the same green as the barding he’d been wearing when we’d first met. There was a patch on the collar that read “Strake,” accompanied by an insignia of rank that meant nothing to me.
“Come on, don’t keep the grand marshal waiting,” he said as he waved me out of my cell.
I bit back the desire to retort that he’d kept me waiting long enough. Irritated as I was, I had no desire to be locked back in the cell. Strake followed me through the corridors of the prison, directing me where to turn whenever there was a junction, until we reached a door flanked by griffins in combat barding. One opened the door to allow me access, and I stepped into a narrow, low-ceilinged room.
Within was a wall-to-wall polished metal table with chairs on either side. I approached the uncomfortable looking one bolted to the floor on my side while observing the griffin sitting in the chair across the table. Grand Marshal Gideon had a tawny coat and russet feathers with a layer of white where feathers met fur. I had been around griffins long enough now to assess that he was middle-aged—not quite an elder yet, but nowhere near his prime either. His bright emerald eyes stood out in the dimly lit room, watching me as if I were the mouse to his hawk.
“Thank you, Master Sergeant,” Gideon addressed Strake while I took my seat without taking his eyes off me. “You may leave now.”
“Grand Marshal,” Strake said sharply behind me before leaving the room.
“Grand Marshal Gideon, I presume?” I said when he remained silent, and the grand marshal nodded enigmatically. “You wanted to speak to me?” Again, a nod. “I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve being treated the way I have. I was taken and locked up without any reason given to me.”
“You haven’t figured it out?” Gideon asked, his speech low and deliberate. “I thought surely I’d given you enough time.”
“I wasn’t aware helping a Lockbox under attack was a crime,” I said before he could have me taken back to my cell to think some more.
“Ignorance of the law is no excuse,” Gideon said pedantically. “In this case, however, you are correct. There is no law against what you did, but why should that matter? Are you a griffin?”
“Well, no,” I said, “But—”
“Then why should you be allowed to interfere in griffin politics?” Gideon asked angrily, placing his claws on the tabletop to boost himself up into an intimidating stance. “The rule of the Griffin Commonwealth must be restored, and every griffin must submit to the authority of the marshals. There is no room for noncompliant Lockboxes that find ways to remain outside the Commonwealth. Your Equestria and the Zebra Empire were both destroyed by megaspells, but the Griffin Commonwealth just … fell apart. Without the prospect of commerce with the warring superpowers, there was nothing to keep griffins together, and the weak government could do nothing to stop the Commonwealth from disintegrating.”
“I, like my predecessors, won’t let this affront continue. Griffins should be the ascendant power, but instead, we live in ruin. I know what must be done; I have spent my whole life learning this. You, a pony, have been in the Commonwealth for only a few months, and you think you know better than me, better than the roost governments? I assure you, you know nothing!” Gideon spat before calming himself, smoothing his feathers, and sitting back down. “When I release you, what are you going to do?”
“Return to the Pleasure Coast,” I answered honestly.
“Good. And?” Gideon asked.
“I’ll stay out of Commonwealth politics,” I said.
It seemed the sensible thing to say, even to try. However, if I came across another situation like Lockbox 17, I honestly didn’t know if I could stop myself from trying to help. That was a bridge to cross later, though doing so would surely enrage the grand marshal and bring down the wrath of his enforcers. It would have to be a calculated risk.
“Very sensible. I advise you not to make yourself a problem, because my problems always disappear, one way or another,” Gideon threatened. “And one more thing. I know you’ve been tampering with the Commonwealth radio distribution stations; don’t even think about going near Shearpoint’s.”
Gideon stood and straightened his suit, his head feathers brushing against the ceiling, but when I made to stand as well, he raised a claw to halt me.
“Guards!” he called loudly, but not with any distress in his voice, and one of the griffins outside opened the door behind me calmly. “This prisoner is free to go. Standard procedure.”
The guard entered the room and stood beside me as Gideon departed for his exit door.
“I don’t want to see your name come across my desk again,” was the last thing he said before striding through the door and slamming it closed.
***
“Standard procedure” wasn’t quite what I was hoping for, although I truly was released and not just taken out back and shot. Most of my possessions were returned to me, but the grand marshal had confiscated all my money—caps, coins, and even the few paper guilders I’d collected—which was problem enough. On top of that, he’d taken all my ammunition, making the guns I got back next to worthless. I had no money to buy more ammo, and I couldn’t earn money the way I usually did (by killing things) without it. It was a viscous cycle that I needed to escape, but at least I had some other potentially useful skills for earning my way out of Shearpoint. Until then, I was effectively stuck in the city.
There were worse places to be trapped, but I’d still rather be out of the sight of Grand Marshal Gideon. I didn’t want to risk raising his ire by doing something innocuous he’d categorize as interfering with griffin politics. Shearpoint had once been the glittering capital of the Griffin Commonwealth, its luxury bought with Equestrian gold and zebra silver. Some of that glitz still lingered within the multi-tiered city of soaring skyscrapers, spacious theaters, and complex parks, but there was a sense that something had been lost. The roost had experienced multiple population booms and declines since the megaspells had fallen, but it had never quite reached the same level as the Wartime years. The city felt half-empty, but this didn’t seem to bother its citizens; just like in Brinkfall and Hookbeak, they went about their lives as normally as they could.
As I walked through the streets and down the precarious stairs of Shearpoint, looking for work or a place to sleep for the night that would take credit, I noted that quite a lot of buildings in the city had flags of the Commonwealth flying from them. Not just that, but they were some of the best-looking buildings, clearly corporate offices for wealthy companies in the past. Now, however, they’d been converted. The old logos and names had been removed, leaving unevenly weathered spots on the buildings’ exterior, and replaced with the names of different governmental agencies that the grand marshals of the past had created. I passed the Department of Broadcast, the Hall of Records, the Tribute Collection Service, and the Office of Business Registration, among others. Shearpoint’s government offices were scattered throughout the city, unlike the major corps (Air, Weather, and Land), which resided directly beneath the grand marshal. His offices had all been clustered at the top of the city, and I’d passed them immediately after being released. With a little exploration, a possible reason became clear: by spreading these offices throughout Shearpoint, Grand Marshal Gideon was making the statement that he was in command of the roost. If pockets of opposition formed anywhere, he’d squeeze them all out with his own offices.
Another sight that caught my eye was the pervasiveness of posters affixed to various walls and notice boards. There were plenty of other advertisements made in a similar style, but it appeared that griffins had gone out of their way to avoid pasting over or overlapping these particular ads, even on a corner. Like in Hookbeak, these were propaganda posters, but rather than calling for reduced power consumption in preparation for breaking into a Lockbox, these advocated for unity against a common enemy: The Grand Pegasus Enclave. Frightening pegasi in insect-like power armor torched a roost with lances of power from above in one poster, and the theme was repeated in different ways throughout the series. Unity between griffins was called for—under the grand marshal, of course. An independent-minded race, griffins had never been particularly good at unity, but perhaps a threat like the Enclave could bring them together. I’d wager that was exactly the thought of Grand Marshal Gideon when he’d ordered these posters printed up. Given what he’d said to me about knowing what needed to be done and how the Commonwealth should be an ascendant power, I was beginning to doubt that the Grand Pegasus Enclave really was the threat to griffins it was made out to be. I’d never known them to interfere in Equestria, and I doubted they did here, either. What they did do was make a mighty good boogey-mare. Perhaps it would even work, and Grand Marshal Gideon would get a unified Griffin Commonwealth. I highly doubted that, though, given my experience with griffins so far.
After a few hours of searching, I managed to find a potential place to stay while I got back on my hooves. The proprietor, a griffin named Gaddage, agreed to hold a room in her boarding house for me, but if I didn’t have the caps to pay for it by the end of the day, I wouldn’t be allowed in. The price was reasonable—something I should have been able to scrounge up with an odd job or two—so I set out to find work. It wasn’t as easy a proposition as I’d hoped.
Finding work in a roost turned out to be harder than it had been in the Equestrian Wasteland, the Pleasure Coast, or in the less-settled parts of the Griffin Commonwealth. In those places, everything had the general feeling of just getting by with pre-megaspell leftovers. There was always something that needed to be done, always an opportunity for someone to step in to help or lend a skill that was in short supply. Not so in Shearpoint, a city with a population large enough to fill the gaps (even if it didn’t fill the city) in terms of both bodies and skills. My doctoring skills weren’t in demand because most griffins already had a doctor they regularly saw. The city had been fully explored, and there were no closed off buildings or terminals for me to crack with my PipBeak, computer skills, or lockpicking aptitude. In fact, I was pretty sure I’d get arrested if I tried.
My search descended through the different tiers of Shearpoint, feeling more futile with each section I traversed. Eventually, I’d gone as far as I could without leaving the city entirely: the skydocks. The mountain upon which Shearpoint was settled briefly leveled off before dropping sharply again, and the griffins had built upon and out from this level bit to create docks like one would see in a harbor. The biggest difference was that the skydocks projected over air instead of water. I was initially hesitant to step out onto any of them, as some of them looked to be in poor repair, but once I set hoof on them, I found that they were plenty sturdy.
Two of the berths had airships in them, though only one looked capable of flight. The other craft was only kept from plummeting downward by the many cables wrapped around it. I’d seen an airship only once before, during my imprisonment in the Grittish Isles. The Steel Rangers had kept one tethered to the Tower, but it had been a big brutish thing: steel skin stretched over steel girders, with a steel command center bolted securely beneath. It was nothing like the airships before me. They were sturdy, to be sure, and made of more advanced materials than the wood and canvas of the illustrations that appeared in old advertisements, but there was a quaintness and elegance to them that had been lost on the Equestrian airship. The body of the airships resembled old sailing vessels, and they were slung beneath the gas envelopes by cables that caused them to sway slightly in the wind.
Griffin dockworkers eyed me cautiously as I approached the edge of the skydocks, where massive cranes were set to haul up platforms from lower altitudes. I ventured a peek over the edge to catch sight of the road far below that ended where the platforms and a long switchbacking stairway began. It was a way for me to leave Shearpoint without falling or riding a platform down, but one that didn’t look like very much fun. Retreating from the edge before I was blown off by a wayward gust, I backtracked up the skydocks to trot among the warehouses and shops that lined the platforms.
A low brick building with several cranes jutting up behind it soon caught my attention. As I trotted around it, I noticed a “Help Wanted” sign in the window; hopefully I could provide the help they wanted. When I entered the shop, there was no griffin to greet me, and I wondered if perhaps I’d just wandered into a building abandoned decades ago. Everything looked run-down, and I could barely make out the gondolas hanging from the cranes out back through the grimy windows. The sign had looked like a recent addition, though, so I cautiously approached the counter and pressed a button labeled “Ring for Service.” Just as I was moving to leave after a couple minutes of waiting, a griffin appeared through the swinging doors to my right. White-furred and black-feathered, he took a break from wiping his claws on a grimy rag in order to size me up.
“Who are you?” he asked while staring at me as if I had a second head. It was a look I was used to at this point.
“I’m Doc. I came in to ask about the sign in your window,” I said, crooking a claw in the general direction of the store entrance in the way a griffin would.
“You have any experience with gondolas or hoppers?” the griffin asked skeptically.
“No,” I answered honestly. At least I didn’t make my prospects worse by asking what a “hopper” was.
“You any good at fixing things?” the griffin asked.
“Now that, I do know,” I told him.
“Hmm,” he said as he ran his not-quite-clean claws through his feathers. “Eh, why not? I could use any help I can get. I’m Guthrie.”
I took his proffered claw without hesitation and shook it.
“Thanks, Guthrie,” I said. “If it’s not too much to ask, would it be possible to get paid daily? I’ve kind of got a bed riding on it.”
“We may be able to work something out,” Guthrie said, but his eyes narrowed. “Let’s see how good you are at the job. Come on, you can work on the gondolas first.”
I followed Guthrie out back to the gondolas. It was clear that none of them were functional—most probably hadn’t been in years—but this was what I’d signed on for. Anything for a meal and a bed. I found some tools and got to work.