//------------------------------// // Part Eighty-Two // Story: The Princess and the Kaiser // by UnknownError //------------------------------// Grover awoke to a rapping upon the chamber door. He blinked for a moment, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. The crumbled roof and old rafters swam into focus for a brief moment, then receded into vague blurs. Grover was laying on his back with his wings splayed out on the double-mattresses. Even with the extra padding, it was still uncomfortable. The knock repeated; Grover recognized it as a paw instead of a claw. The sound was too soft. He groped against an elegant willow nightstand brought from Griffenheim before his talons touched his glasses. He hooked them across his beak with a well-practiced motion, then rolled and sat up on all fours. The movement tangled the linen bedsheets. “Enter,” Grover called out. His voice cracked into a scratchy squawk. He thumped a claw to his nightshirt and coughed. “Enter,” he repeated at a deeper register. The old wooden door creaked open slightly and the light from the hallway spilled into the interior storage room that functioned as a royal bedchamber. A dark brown muzzle poked through. “My Kaiser?” the dog asked with a bowed head. “A thousand pardons for the intrusion.” “General Loudbark,” Grover suppressed a yawn. He fumbled along the table until he found a crystal and tapped it twice with a talon. It sparkled with light as the enchanted activated. It cast the room in a gloomy pale light. Grover began to extract his wings from the tangle of bedsheets. Should’ve thrown them off before rolling over. “What is the situation? Has the northern advance stalled?” the Kaiser guessed. “No, my Kaiser,” the dog assured him quietly, “but there is a situation.” The paw tapped on the doorframe with a nervous flutter. “It is something neither Benito nor myself can attend to in your absence.” My absence? Grover rolled his eyes. The light was dim enough that the dog did not catch it. I am sleeping. “Just so, I will deal with it in the tower. Dismissed.” The door closed. The guards shuffled back to their positions in the hallway with a clank of steel and the sound of fading boots as General Loudbark left. Grover listened for a moment as he folded the bed sheets back up clumsily. He had not brought the full complement of household staff with him from Griffenheim; it was beyond impractical. And those that did arrive with him remained in Manehattan and far from the front. Only his guards and army staff traveled with the Kaiser to the Everfree. And that meant Grover had to make his own bed. The dogs would do it, of course, and Bentio was quick to offer that they did along with preparing his meals. Grover had seen the truth of it well enough, and the last thing he wanted was to have four armed dogs watch him sleep all night. They already taste test all my food and watch me eat. Grover clacked his beak as he tugged on the monographed nightshirt. It was a simple white silk shirt that hung loosely on his lean frame. Grover stretched on the floor, shaking out a hind paw with a muted pop as his tail bobbed. The pajama bottoms nearly reached his bare paws, also a fine silk but black. Grover looked to the dresser, another willow cabinet brought from Griffenheim. It was nearly as tall as the old storage room at the base of the tower. The Castle of the Two Sisters was over a thousand years old, and Grover suspected that its dilapidation under the sole reign of Celestia was a gambit to erase the sins of her sister. Not as if Griffonstone looks much better in less than a tenth of the time. He huffed at the cabinet, crossing and opening the doors to stare blankly at a collection of leather coats, pressed slacks, polished boots, fine gloves, dress shirts, medallioned sashes, and popped collars. Grover grabbed a pair of boots, then hesitated. He looked back over to the bedtable. Next to the little crystal, the Reichstone rested on its pillow, gold and gems polished to a shine. Grover ran a claw through his tan head feathers to smooth them, then rubbed the back of his neck. The door to his chambers opened from within, and the dog guards snapped to attention with paws clamped to their chests. The griffons further down the hall, knights in enchanted plate, similarly dipped their wings. The hallway was technically below ground in the basement of the castle, and the dogs found it similar enough to Bronzehill’s great mountain holds to be more comfortable than the griffons. The dogs were not comfortable when Grover exited in his nightshirt and slacks with bare paws and talons clicking on the stone floor. He flapped and refolded his wings with realigned flight feathers in the hallway. The Kaiser squinted at the guard to his left, needing to look up at the dog from all fours. Height had always run in the family, and Grover was tall for a sixteen-year-old, but he only reached the dog’s upper chest. “My Kaiser,” the dog intoned with eyes straight ahead. “Sir Terrance,” Grover acknowledged him. “With me.” He looked over a wing to the Reichstone on its pillow, then fully exited into the hallway. He let the guards close his door behind him as he walked through the low tunnel and up a curving flight of stairs. His bare claws gathered dust and bits of chipped stone. The dogs had sniffed out dozens of secret tunnels in the castle, and Grover wondered if they were remnants of Celestia’s supposed pranks, or Luna’s descent into paranoia and Maar-touched madness. He scuffed a talon along the stairwell before inspecting the sharp point. The Kaiser could have exited through the courtyard and flown to the tower by the balcony; he walked up the stairs instead. Griffons and dogs bowed their head at him as he passed, always with a “My Kaiser,” on their beaks and muzzles. Their eyes, however, were befuddled. Only the household staff had seen him without his full regal dress, and of those griffons and dogs, less than five had ever seen him naked. Grover found he did not particularly care tonight. He paused at a dilapidated window and judged the full moon. “Do you have the time, Sir Terrance?” he asked behind him. There was a shuffling as the dog pulled a gauntlet off partially to inspect a watch. “It is nearly four in the morning, my Kaiser,” the dog replied deferentially. There was a click as the gauntlet slid back into place. “Just so,” Grover nodded. “I thank you.” His ears perked as he passed the hallway connecting to the true Reichsarmee command center. The large vestibule clamored with reports and radio static under the sounds of hundreds of griffons speaking and consolidating information. That bodes well. The push against the shield wall to trap the northern army would have slowed during the night, but the fresh reserves would keep the pressure up. And the shield itself glowed; the closer one got to it, the easier it would be to keep attacking. Before he went to bed, the initial reports guessed that over 80,000 Changeling soldiers were cut off in the north. And the reports also guessed that 200,000 Changeling reserves had been within the Duskwood. Grover snorted and his tail lashed, the bob at the end bouncing off a stone step. He climbed the tower briskly. An Aquileian stallion guarded the door with two Longswordian knights. His horn glowed and a spell ruffled over Grover first, then the stallion knelt and dipped the horn to the floor. “My Kaiser,” he said in a whisper. You are bowing to the wrong monarch, Grover almost quipped, but he held his tongue. One of the knights pushed the door open with a gauntlet and Grover entered. Benito and Loudbark crowded the aged war table in the center of the room. The figures atop it had been shifted to the north of the sprawling map, with many of the metal changelings lined along the far edge, permanently out of the fight. The gray dog and brown dog registered his entry after a moment of shock at Grover in his pajamas. They knelt abruptly with a paw clasped to their chests. Grover shook his bare head and beckoned them up with a claw. “Rise.” “My Kaiser,” Benito said regretfully. “The situation is not so urgent that you could-” “I am dressed fine,” Grover said shortly, “and there is a dreadful lack of strong coffee on this continent. Equus was a land of tea.” His escorting knights were scanned by the unicorn and allowed entry before the door was shut. “Just so, my Kaiser,” Loudbark said after a moment of silence. “The Ironpaws cornered a changeling attempting to reach our lines.” “General Loudbark means that a changeling surrendered to our reserves just south of the Princess’ camp,” Bentio rephrased with a sharp glance at his fellow dog. Loudbark rubbed his helmet and looked askance. Grover crossed to the table and leaned against it. He studied the northern advance for a moment. “Attempting another breakout?” he guessed. “She wishes to surrender,” Loudbark explained. “Says she’s from Canterlot.” He smirked. “The Ironpaw team that captured her says a rat ran up to them and begged for mercy.” “Are you certain the changeling is female?” Benito asked. “She is naked,” Loudbark scoffed. “It is easy to check.” “One changeling attempting to surrender is a ruse and not a concern,” Grover interrupted. The two dogs’ ears pinned back. “Apologies, my Kaiser,” Loudbark said in an ironically quiet voice. “The hour is late and I am tired. She claims to be the personal attendant of the Generalmajor. She wishes to surrender to you.” Grover leaned against the table and processed the statement. His deep blue eyes flicked to wooden alicorn laying on the base of Mount Canterhorn. Benito must’ve noticed. He raised a brow upward at the dog, then gestured his beak to the figurine. “The Princess’ army is still readying for an assault up the mountain,” Benito offered. “All accounts indicate they were bitten quite badly.” Grover hummed. “I suppose she wishes to see me?” “As an envoy, I suppose,” Benito nodded. “It is hard to tell from all the blubbering,” Loudbark muttered. “I suspect changelings lack spines. I shall have to ask an Ironpaw if they savaged one of them badly enough to notice if they do.” “Send her up,” Grover ordered. Both dogs hesitated, eyes sweeping over Grover’s pajamas. “Send her up,” Grover repeated. “If she is naked, I trust she lacks weapons.” “She has been shackled and an inhibitor ring was placed upon her horn,” Benito said. He folded his arms. “We are still uncertain about their emotion senses,” he reminded his Kaiser. “Thranx said it was a struggle with the horn blocked.” Grover waved a claw. “If she is nervous, doubly so. I do not care. She will sense I am tired if nothing else.” Both dogs knelt again. “My Kaiser,” they said together. Grover waved them away with a wing and yawned. “Dismissed. Fetch her.” He blinked and shook his head. “Bring her to me with a detachment of knights,” he rephrased. “As many guards as you wish, Benito.” “I would recommend the great hall downstairs, then,” Benito offered as he stood. “I am afraid you will have to compromise,” Grover clacked his beak. “I wish this done quickly.” “We can simply execute her,” Loudbark remarked. “I wish to hear what she has to say,” Grover replied. Loudbark accepted that as reason enough and followed Benito. The door opened, then closed. Grover looked to the hole in the wall of the tower, leading to some ancient tunnel for listening in. Was it for Luna to escape the shadow of her sister? Or her sister to ensure her power? The entrance below had been blocked off. The map of the world was still pinned up next to the balcony. The Griffonian Reich was in the focal point in the center of the map. The three continents of the world were divided, but only one was divided in two. Grover’s eyes traced the long land border with the River Federation. The core of his Reichsarmee was far from home. You will attack. He knew in his heart they would, the moment any true weakness appeared on Equus. The Riverlands' entire defensive alliance that became their River Federation spawned from his ancestor’s Great Crusade. Time may heal wounds, but wounds always scarred. Grover dragged his previously discarded chair up to the table. The table had been part of the castle, and while the griffon doubted it was truly a thousand years old, the wood had blackened with age and grown hard. The chair was imported from Griffonheim; a plush bottom with a narrow back for folding your wings. The end result was that the chair was slightly too high for the table, hence why Grover usually preferred to stand. Grover sat down and leaned his beak in an upturned claw. He drummed his talons along his cheek. While he waited, the griffon gazed out the balcony. Two knights stood guard, facing away from him and scanning the night sky for any threat with readied assault rifles. “Have you been on shift long?” Grover asked suddenly. There was no response for a moment, then one of the knights slowly turned her helmet to peer over a wing. “My...” she stumbled, then quickly slung her assault rifle under a wing and fully turned around. “My Kaiser!” she exclaimed. Her helmet muffled the squawk. Her partner twisted around as well, uncertain if he was also addressed, then decided it was best to act as if he was. Both bowed facing the interior of the tower. One of you should probably still be keeping watch, Grover thought, but instead repeated, “Have you been on shift long?” There was a pause that stretched on too long. “No more than two hours, my Kaiser,” the female knight answered. Grover tried to place her accent. “Are you Rumarean?” he asked in Herzlander. “My accent is rather poor,” he said in the Rumarean language, “but the tutor assured me that I am understandable.” The knight’s wings ruffled. “I apologize, my Kaiser,” she said in a pained voice. “I am Rumarean, but I do not know the language.” Grover waved a wing at both of them. “Remove your helmets, if you would,” he said in Herzlander. Both did so immediately. The male was fire red with a hooked beak, and the female knight was a bright blonde with a narrow cleft. The tips of her head feathers turned strawberry in a natural tint. It framed her green eyes. She was several years older than Grover, and clearly beautiful. “I do not know either of you,” Grover observed. “Who are you?” “I am Morgain,” the Rumarean said deferentially. “Sworn to the Longsword Order.” “I am Hans,” the male said in a southern accent. “I am from Cyanolisia and sworn to the Longsword Order.” Grover nodded absently. “Do you miss it?” Both paused with their helmets in their claws. “My Kaiser?” Morgain ventured. “Do you miss home?” Grover clarified. “We are fighting a great war,” Hans replied slowly. “The Second Great Crusade.” “You appear to be guarding me,” Grover said with a slight smirk. Neither had a retort. Morgain’s green eyes struggled to make eye contact, clearly wishing she was watching the horizon for threats instead of actually speaking to him. Hans seemed little better. Grover’s smirk fell from his cheeks and he returned to the map. “Dismissed,” he waved his wing. “Return to your posts.” Both quickly replaced their helmets and turned around. The Kaiser flipped through stacks of poorly-organized reports atop the edges of the map, sorting them with a lazy claw. The casualty reports were high in the north from Thundertail’s folly, but it was overall lower than anticipated. It would be a great victory. He flumped a heavy folder atop the fallen alicorn. It left an indent in the papers. Hardly my victory, Grover thought. One of the last papers was his own notes from Gallus’ return. The Princess had requested “whatever he could spare,” and the Kaiser was quite busy running down the army that nearly shattered her force. The back of the page was a short summation of the Princess’ physical condition: a fact that Gallus had conveniently excised from his debriefing, but the knights with him had spoken of in subdued tones. She’s going to try and lead an assault with Stage Four Magical Exhaustion. Grover read over the details again. Perhaps Stage Five. Griffons could work enchantments into steel, and depending on who was asked, could even fly better than a pegasus, but they did not suffer from the same magical ailments. A griffon blacksmith would collapse from mundane exhaustion or heart failure before anything magical. Several sets of steps began to ring up the staircase, echoing with the clank of armor and scrape of steel. Grover set the folders down and waited in chair. At the last moment, he retrieved an old Changeling pistol from its case beneath the table and made sure it was loaded. He left it on the table in easy claw reach. This time, they did not knock. The knights simply entered and took positions along the walls, spreading out with readied assault rifles and sheathed blades under their wings. Grover did not nod to them as they entered, nor did they bow. This was purely an intimidation display. Grover did pick out Sir Ewing and Sir Erreck beside Grandmaster Jürgen of the Opinicus Order, then Knight-Captain Wavewing of the Rosewood Order and a detachment of her own knights. Sir Geralt of Longsword stood in his black armor beneath the map of the world with a team of a half-dozen black-plated griffons. I see we have gathered a collection of who was available, Grover thought. He resisted a yawn and sat straighter in the chair. Countess Raison D’Etat of Vinovia, the only Aquileian pony in the room, stood beside the broken wall. Count Ignatius of Bronzehill stood beside her, making a valiant effort to look awake. The dog’s whiskers twitched with a suppressed yawn. Benito entered and knelt in the doorway. Grover waved his claw at him. “Rise. Bring her in.” Benito stood to the side with one paw on his saber’s hilt and another on his holster. General Loudbark entered next, sparing Grover a deep nod as he walked backwards with his eyes locked on the stairwell. The Kaiser picked up the clink of chains underneath armored footfalls. Two Ironpaws, the heavily armored dog soldiers comparable to griffon knights, dragged a chained changeling between them. Her hooves dangled off the ground as she was carried into the room. Grover did note that she was indeed a mare; the shorter, rounder muzzle gave it away with the slightness of her frame. The changeling’s eyes were wide and a deep purple. The crooked horn above was topped with an inhibitor ring; it couldn’t fit over a knot in the keratin to reach the base, so the dogs had shoved another atop the first. It looked deeply uncomfortable. Grover was reminded briefly of the casual ease that the Princess blasted off the ring in Manehattan, then resisted looking at the wooden alicorn. He had left it atop the desk. The dogs carried the changeling three steps into the room, just enough for the door to be closed, then dropped her. The chains clinked as she stumbled. A set tied her forelegs together, and another her hind legs. A final set bound her wings to her side. The changeling was forced to stand awkwardly with her legs nearly pinned together. “You stand,” Benito began in hard Herzlander, “before Grover VI, Kaiser of the Griffonian Reich, King of Aquileia, Vedina, Cloudbury, and Wingbardy. The Grand Prince of the Evi Valley. The Kaiser of Griffonkind.” The changeling blinked her purple eyes at the griffon wearing expensive pajamas halfway across the room. Grover did not move, so the changeling began to slowly bend her legs to bow. Halfway through the attempt, she simply fell to the floor as the chains constricted her legs too much. Half the knights in the room aimed at her. She froze. Grover pointed a claw at the Ironpaws. “Help her back up,” he ordered. “I trust you know our language,” he said down to the changeling. “I d-do,” she confirmed with a stutter. Benito growled. “K-kaiser,” the mare quickly tacked on. Grover waited, staring at her. The Ironpaws hauled her back up, then stood a step back. It was hard to tell without true pupils, but the changeling seemed to look around the room and further shrink in on herself. She mouthed something. “You waste the Kaiser’s time,” Loudbark snarled. “Speak louder, bug.” “I…” the changeling struggled to find her voice. The wings buzzed against the chains and the knights tensed. “I a-am Alcippe, assistant to Generalmajor Jachs of Canterlot.” “Actia Pagala is in charge of Canterlot,” Grover answered with blank eyes. “Jachs was the previous Generalmajor of the Commissariat.” “She is dead,” Alcippe said hurriedly. “Jachs took the position back.” Grover was too tired to particularly care about formalities. He openly rolled his eyes at the mare. “That is not how it works, changeling. You speak of mutiny.” Alcippe took a shuddering breath. “W-We wish to surrender to you, Kaiser Grover VI.” Her eyes seemed to linger on the table in front of Grover. He tried to track her gaze, and it landed on the wooden alicorn sticking out from the bottom of the folder. “I am not the one surrounding the city,” Grover responded dryly. “You are speaking with the wrong army.” “We wish to surrender to you.” Alcippe did not stutter this time. “We hold the bridges to the Estates and Canterlot Castle, easily a third of the city.” “It is not my city,” Grover shrugged a wing. “And you are speaking with the wrong army.” “C-canterlot is a great prize,” Alcippe stumbled. “Honesty may be difficult,” Grover said in a blithe tone. “You are a changeling, after all. But you will speak nothing but the truth in my presence.” He fully turned his blue eyes on her. “Why are you here?” Alcippe swallowed. “I-I represent Generalmajor Jachs. We w-wish to surrender.” “That is not why you are here,” Grover stated. He removed the folder and stood the alicorn upright at the base of the mountain. “You are hoping to place my army in between you and the ponies.” “We…we have 40,000 Changeling soldiers entrenched,” Alcippe claimed. “The Princess is assaulting the city,” Grover responded. After a pause, he added, “Herself.” The look of utter terror on the mare’s face was unmistakable. A forked tongue slid along a fang as she breathed shortly. Grover clenched his beak as he waited for the changeling to recover. “We...we w-wish to s-surrender,” Alcippe managed. “We w-will completely comply with any of your d-demands. As long as y-you guarantee our safety.” “You do not get to make demands of the Kaiser,” Loudbark barked. Canterlot would be a prize, Grover considered it. We could use the propaganda of seizing it before the Princess. His eyes wandered to the balcony. The Everfree Forest stretched into the night, but somewhere to the west was a large crater a quarter full of ash. Grover turned back to the mare. “I get nothing from this arrangement.” “O-our s-surrender-” “Is worthless,” Grover finished for her. “We do not need your equipment. We certainly do not need you as prisoners. Every time my army attempted an exchange, as we have done in Griffonia, there was always an infiltrator mixed-in.” Grover moved to lean atop the desk, then realized the chair was too large. He stood and braced his darker claws atop the wood. “One of our earliest rules of chivalry was not to fly your enemy’s banner,” he lectured. “You took our language but sullied everything else.” Alcippe had no response to that. Grover debated whether to even bother sending her to the Princess, or simply executing her in the tower. Benito clearly guessed the Kaiser’s thought process: he tapped his saber’s hilt with a paw. “Twilight Sparkle is yours,” the mare whispered. Grover almost missed it, then he was sure he misheard her. Loudbark, Ignatius, and Benito’s ears twitched. “Speak…” Loudbark hesitated. “Louder.” “T-Twilight,” the mare stumbled, this time from pure hesitation instead of nervousness. “Twilight Sparkle is yours. We surrender.” Grover looked at the purple-bound Friendship Journal covered by reports. He shifted them aside to expose the book, then dropped it atop the center of the table. It landed with a muted thud that rang through the room. “Twilight Sparkle is dead,” Grover said flatly. “We are aware of illusion magic. Projection or not, the mare is dead.” “She has been in t-the Queen’s custody since the war ended,” Alcippe answered. She took a deep breath, as deep as she could with the chains keeping her wings to her barrel. “She is in Canterlot Castle. Less than a dozen changelings knew, and most are dead.” “After your mutiny,” Grover guessed. His eyes searched her, then scanned over the knights lining the walls. None of them offered a hint if they believed her, not even Sir Geralt's yellow eyes. “If you guarantee our safety,” Alcippe continued, “y-you can have her.” “I can have her,” Grover repeated with open disdain. “Unlike the Hegemony, the Reich does not practice slavery. What am I supposed to do with her, changeling?” “She is…is the rightful Princess of Equestria,” Alcippe said with trembling lips. Grover saw her gambit. He immediately squawked a fake laugh that cracked into a shrill screech. For the moment, he did not care how it looked. “You think that matters?” Grover said mockingly. “You are desperate to put anything between yourself and the alicorn at the base of the mountain.” “The Equestrian L-liberation Front fought to f-free Twilight Sparkle,” Aclippe tried. “T-they don’t w-want-” “Offer her to them, then,” Grover interrupted with a brisk flap of a wing. Something made him pause, but he dismissed it and pushed forward. “What am I intended to do? Carry her out in a cocoon to the thanks of Equestria? Or should I attempt to name her the true Princess?” “She is the r-rightful Princess,” Alcippe repeated. Her dual-toned voice sounded incredibly weak. “P-princess Flurry H-heart has no claim to Equestria.” She has a horn and wings, fool. Grover openly leaned atop the table with a bobbing tail. “Am I meant to leave her in your cocoon, then?” he sneered. “You are a fool if you think Twilight Sparkle would ever reject her niece.” Alcippe closed her eyes. “T-that won’t be a concern.” It took Grover a moment to process her stance, like that of an insect waiting for the rock to crush them. His dark blue eyes scanned the room. A few of the knights’ eyes had narrowed in suspicion and confusion. Sir Geralt’s yellow eyes widened in realization and his claw gripped the hilt of his sword. Benito blinked and cocked his head with Loudbark. A hush descended. Grover broke the silence first. “What did you do to her?” “T-the…” Alcippe tried to breathe in. Her wings fluttered. “The Q-queen-” “Benito,” Grover said as his voice cracked lower. “On my command, cut off her head.” Benito drew his saber and held it at his side. The changeling completely locked up, frozen in terror. “What,” Grover began with a low snarl, “did you do to her?” Alcippe took two short breaths. She did not answer until Grover began to raise his claw to give the signal to Benito. “She’s in a coma!” she rushed out in a shrieking hiss. “She’s not dead! She’s in a coma! She won’t wake up!” Grover set his claw down atop the table, next to the Friendship Journal. “Explain.” “The Queen,” the mare began, only for Benito to nearly froth at her. Grover waved him back. The dog sheathed his sword with a hard clang and retreated. Alcippe took several seconds to recover, then several more to begin. “After the e-end of the war, Twilight Sparkle was moved to a c-cave outside Canterlot. The Queen’s Guard h-had her plugged into a love extractor.” “A what?” Loudbark interrupted. “A cocoon?” “N-no, it was…” Aclippe paused as her ears pinned back. “You tortured her,” Sir Geralt broke the silence. His bright yellow eyes fixated on the changeling. “N-no,” Aclippe whimpered. “T-the Q-queen’s Guard…” “You knew, didn’t you?” Sir Geralt replied. A claw gripped the sword under a wing. He clearly wanted to murder her. Alcippe did not shake her head in denial. Her forked tongue licked across her fangs rapidly. “T-they u-used her for power. F-for love.” “For love?” Grover echoed. “You still believe that is what this war was for?” “D-during the u-uprising,” Alcippe continued, “she was e-evacuated before t-they reached Canterlot. T-the Queen…after it was over, she w-wanted…” the changeling trailed away. “Finish it,” Grover stated. His voice cracked lower. “She fell into a coma,” Alcippe whispered, refusing to look above her hooves. Grover’s eyes went to a series of boxes stacked next to the hole in the wall. “Count Ignatius, would you please go to the second box on the right?” Count Ignatius wrenched his eyes away from the mare and stomped over to them. “My Kaiser?” “Pictures in the pink folder,” Grover clarified. Ignatius used a gloved paw to flick through files until he found the folder, then slightly opened it. His muzzle wrinkled with disgust, pulling back from his teeth. “Any of them will do,” Grover said blandly. “Show one to her.” The Count pulled out a copy of a photograph out and stalked over to the changeling with a low tail. Alcippe tried to shrink down, chains rattling. The dog stood over her and thrust the picture down towards her muzzle. Aclippe closed her eyes. “Look at the picture,” Grover ordered. Benito half-drew his saber, and the scrape of steel on the sheath made the changeling open her eyes and look. “Do you know who that is?” Alcippe’s mouth trembled, but words did not form. “That is the Princess’ mother,” Grover said. “One of five alicorns in the known world. At the very least, she was dead when you did that to her. Tell me: Does Twilight Sparkle look better or worse than that?” Alcippe gasped as her wings tried to buzz. “P-please, we s-surrender.” “No,” Grover countered. “You wish to have an army protect you. She will breach the city, and she will kill you all.” That seemed to be the end of it. Ignatius twisted the photograph away and stomped back to the boxes. Benito sheathed his sword again with a harsh clatter of steel, then looked to the Kaiser for orders. The griffon only tapped a claw on the table. What am I supposed to do with you? Grover considered. “The ELF wanted Twilight Sparkle,” Alcippe stammered. “No one knows she’s there. I…I can convince Jachs to move her. We can do it t-tonight!” “Convince him?” Grover stopped tapping a talon on the table. “You…” he paused and stared at the mare. She shook in her chains. “You are not a spy,” Grover stated, “and you are not an envoy. If you were only interested in saving yourself, you would have fled. The Generalmajor does not know you are here.” “I can c-convince him,” Alcippe repeated in a whisper. “We’re…close.” “Blessed Boreas!” one of the knights squawked. “How does that even work? Do you just suck the love from each other, or is there nothing there?” “I love him!” Alcippe hissed, then immediately quailed when the knights angled the assault rifles towards her. “I am here for him.” She turned desperate, pleading eyes to the Kaiser. “N-no one knows where she is…You can find her in C-canterlot. O-or…” Grover snorted. “Benito-” “You won’t need her anymore,” the changeling said suddenly, rallying all her courage. Her eyes were on the wooden alicorn. Grover’s command strangled in his throat. His claws dug into the table and he hauled himself over it with flaring wings. The griffon landed several hooves from the mare with wings extended over his head. His feathers puffed instinctively. “I do not need her!” Grover roared back. “She killed thousands of your griffons,” Alcippe said, sheer desperation overpowering the fear in the changeling’s eyes. “We know what she’s done.” The Ironpaws and Benito stepped forward when Grover advanced on the changeling. The Kaiser snarled up at them. I do not need protection from one chained mare. His wings buffeted the air and the Ironpaws stopped at the mare’s black flanks. “She approached me! She came to me! To my army!” “You accepted,” Alcippe forced out. Grover’s dark eyes snapped to a radio resting beside the door behind her. An eye twitched, and whatever retort he intended did not leave his beak. His eyes swept over the room, landing on the map of the world upon the wall. None of the knights below it met his stare. “We know about your spymasters,” Alcippe continued. She had lowered herself to the floor. “And the purges in the navy.” “You dare!” Benito growled. He stepped forward. Grover held up a claw and halted the dog. He stood straight and glared down at the mare. “What…” he swallowed. “What else do you know, changeling?” “The ELF is divided,” Alcippe said from the floor. “She ordered executions. She’s not the Princess they want.” “You believe they would prefer a broken mare?” Grover asked bluntly. Alcippe did not answer verbally, but her teary purple eyes still spoke to him. You would, they said. Grover abruptly turned away from her and walked back to the table. As he did, he imagined walking down the Temple of Boreas in Griffenheim. “Like this?” She could bow the entire way. Grover imagined the scene. She could wriggle across the floor like a worm, and it would all be undone the moment she stood up beside me. His eyes drifted to the balcony. It was not a concession; it was another bit of her low cunning. The room was silent. Wings rustled against armor and chains clinked as the changeling shook. She stood up. “My Kaiser?” Benito asked. Grover faced away from the changeling; he reared up and leaned his claws atop the table. It had been a table meant of a pony, so it was lower than it should be. The Kaiser stared at the chair from Griffenheim. Why did we never get involved before? Grover wondered to himself. Ancestors Above, did you stare across the ocean in wonder, or resentment? “My Kaiser?” Benito repeated. “How would you even move her?” Grover asked aloud. “Where is Twilight Sparkle, anyway? Some cave?” “It can be done,” Alcippe said quickly. “She’s in Canterlot Castle; she’s been there for years. We…we can do it. I c-can convince Jachs.” You’ve said too much. Grover fiddled with the reports. The Princess had asked for whatever he could spare, and he could easily send knights in to secure the castle ahead of whatever hellish rampage the alicorn inflicted on the Changelings. Griffonian knights would save the Princess of Friendship…or whatever was left of her. Or…the thought hit Grover suddenly. Or I could order something else. Dark blue eyes drifted over the notes on the Princess’ condition. I spared that feckless bluebird, and he still chooses to bow to her. I even spared that precious pilot. Grover gazed up at the old support beams above his head. Did Luna stand here and wonder about how she could remove her sister? As impressive as her shiny crater was, Princess Flurry Heart was clearly gravely injured. She was rushing into Canterlot to try and protect her precious ponies, secure that his Reichsarmee could deal with the Changelings. She was weak. A few hours of sleep wouldn’t change that. She might even die on her own in the assault. But she did ask for help. A dozen knights with enchanted steel and whispered orders. They would have to avoid her changelings, but it could be done. Grover scanned along the wall and considered who would do it. Who could do it. “If it were done when ‘tis done, then ‘twere well it were done quickly,” Grover quoted distantly, staring at the hole in the masonry. “W-what?” Alcippe stumbled. “You took our language,” Grover said over a wing, “but not our plays, apparently. Garbeth.” He returned to staring at the mortar. “That but this blow might be the be-all and end-all here.” Urban combat was already a nightmare, and the Princess fought recklessly. She could fall somewhere in Canterlot, then the last Princess of Equestria would be found in the ruins of her home, saved by Griffonian knights. There would be a great deal of risk, but the changeling was right. Ponies loved Twilight Sparkle. They remembered her. And the Changelings tortured her. They would whinny for vengeance for their Princess across the continent. Flurry Heart could die a martyr, as she clearly wished to, then the grief would turn to anger and rage. I am at least in a place known for regicides, Grover laughed to himself. His chuckle, not as deep as it should be, made the room tense. Ignatius still stood beside the boxes. He had folded his paws as he waited beside Loudbark. My most loyal followers are dogs, not griffons. Look at her. She can sway anyone to her side with that damn horn. The map of the world was behind Grover. He could still see it in his mind. The ponies of Equus would cry, and some would splinter away, but many would be united in anger and heartache. And his Reichsarmee would provide that outlet. They would march across the continent and kill Chrysalis. And in the end, Equestria would truly be his. The entire continent, Grover reconsidered. Which one of us could claim that? What would you have done here, Eros? He immediately dismissed that thought. You would have never come here, never gotten involved. My father would have called this entire war folly. “P-princess Flurry Heart is n-not what ponies want,” Alcippe said behind him. The chains clinked as she shuffled forward. “In e-exchange for T-twilight, do you accept our surrender?” Grover did not respond. His tail bobbed. The first step is to execute the changeling and swear the others to secrecy. He looked over his wing to the nervous, purple-eyed changeling. She licked bright white fangs, but seemed truly oblivious, blinded by sheer desperation and love. Grover remembered Eros’ final words as he lay dying in a hospital bed. “All the terrible things I did, I did so you wouldn't have to." And the Kaiser of the Griffonian Reich had ordered tanks to roll across his capital less than three weeks later. I had to do terrible things, Eros. The world is a terrible place. There was a path before him, a hard path, but one that would lead to untold glory. There would not need to be a sham marriage, or further humiliations. It would be his army that led the way, and his army would return in triumph. “Is this a dagger which I see before me?” Grover said, then laughed again, this time high and loud. It descended into a screeching guffaw that clearly made the entire room uncomfortable. As he laughed, his eyes swept the room, seeing confused muzzles and beaks. I spent years learning our languages, reading our plays and history. Griffons don’t want that Kaiser; they only want iron and blood and gold. Grover picked at his nightshirt as his laughter died down. They would rather have Grover II reborn. And that was currently an alicorn in crystal armor who spent an entire battle atop a tank. Who would be Guinevere, begging before Grover? “My Kaiser?” Benito asked one final time. His boots sounded behind Grover and the dog rounded the table. He avoided eye contact; the gray dog simply waited for a decision. Grover still had his back turned to the changeling. The chains clinked a little closer. Grover realized the changeling had been talking the entire time, descending into a desperate, mumbling prattle as she tried to save her love. “S-since the Q-queen ordered…” She stepped closer, as close as she dared. Kaiser Grover VI tuned her out. He looked at the Friendship Journal, then the pistol, and finally the wooden alicorn. He plucked it up with a claw and held it in his palm. He gazed over the little wooden figure to Benito. Benito finally made eye contact. He stared over the alicorn with brown eyes, meeting Grover’s deep blue. The dog’s chest swelled and he nodded after a moment. His paw clenched the saber’s hilt. Grover’s cheeks pulled into a slow smirk at the figure. The little muzzle seemed sad, though it truly had no expression. Nothing personal. I know you would do the same to me. The changeling continued behind him. “Y-you’d n-no longer n-need Princess Flurry-” Grover knew, intellectually, what an alicorn was. He had been shown pictures, only a few pictures, considering that clothing seemed optional for them, but pictures all the same. They had the strength of an earth pony, the wings of a pegasus, and the magic of a unicorn. Until a few years ago, there were none on Griffonia. The light pink filly standing in the broom closet seemed to get the wings of two pegasi. They were absurdly large for a ten-year-old, larger than his own even though he was a male griffon. There was a fleck of blood atop her spiraled horn that hadn’t been washed away, and her fur and curls were matted down. Her mane was stringy and hung about her muzzle, wet from the empty jug. “Pinkie Promise?” the filly said in accented Aquileian. She clearly had a professional tutor; her accent was impeccably noble. “What?” Grover asked, thinking he misheard her. “Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” The tall filly did a series of absurd motions with her right hoof, pressing it against her right eye as she finished. It probably rhymed in Equestrian, but the entire ritual seemed odd. Grover repeated it, careful not to poke his eye. The filly seemed pleased, and he smiled. “A strange promise.” “Breaking it is the fastest way to lose a friend,” the filly said resolutely, as if it was common knowledge. Perhaps it was in Equestria or the Crystal Empire. Grover knew little about them, and even less about her. Benito shuffled behind Grover, but the griffon only had eyes on the alicorn. She had a narrow muzzle, still with a bit of baby fat around the chin, and her bright eyes resembled glacial ice. She had no crown, and her dress was rather simple and plain even if it wasn’t waterlogged, but she still stood with an easy grace. As far as he knew, though he was not done with his history lessons, this was the first time any of his family had met an alicorn in person. He would need to ask Eros why. The old Archon stood beside him, seemingly troubled, but that was perhaps due to the confines of the broom closet. “I am proud to be your friend, Princess Flurry,” Grover stated. Grover dropped the wooden alicorn, turned around, and lunged forward. He carved out the changeling’s purple left eye with one hard swipe of his claw. It happened too quickly for any in the room to react in time. Grover felt the shock run up his arm and a burst of warmth on his talons as they raked across her muzzle. The changeling had been in the middle of a sentence, and her entire head snapped to the side. Grover felt droplets land on his beak and fur. One landed on the lens in front of his right eye. He blinked at it and angled his head to the left. He straightened himself up from his pounce, standing directly in front of the changeling. Alcippe did not react. Her mouth continued to move, though no words came out. Blood ran down the side of her muzzle. The changeling did not seem to realize what had happened to her; she stood very still with her head to the side. Grover heard Benito take a reflexive step back at the same time as a dozen sets of wings rustled against steel in shock. It was a quiet series of sounds, but it rang through his head. Grover’s right claw was wet. The changeling’s wings buzzed and she inhaled to scream. Grover reared up and seized her by the horn and neck. Pivoting, he flung her across his body and she crashed against the low table. Figures and folders scattered across the floor from the impact. Benito and Loudbark took another step back. The chains tangled her hooves and she fell against the side. Grover crossed to her and took her by the horn. He used it as leverage, shoving her head back up. “You wretched coward.” He slammed her muzzle down against the table as she began to shriek. It cut off abruptly. He hauled her back up by the horn. “You serve your Queen loyally, when serving was safe,” Grover snarled. He slammed her down again. The entire table shook from the impact and more papers scattered. “And now you slink away like a rat to save yourself.” He took her by the neck with his bloody talon as well, hauling her up on his paws. Grover slammed her entire body into the table headfirst. The old legs gave out and the changeling collapsed atop the splinters. Grover noticed a fang lodged in a broken chunk of wood. “If I did not know better,” the griffon said in a low, reverberating growl, “I would believe that your entire species is this dissolute. That your entire being is incapable of honor. But I know that is not true.” The changeling inhaled with a shuddering breath. Blood leaked across the scattered folders and splinters. She did not cry or scream; the shock of the injuries was too much. “I know you have some concept of honor. I have seen it.” Grover grabbed her hind leg by a hole and hauled her away from the shattered table and across the stones. The chains rattled. “And that means you choose to be this. Is your entire cursed species this craven?” Grover pulled her free from the wreck of the table. “You took our language,” he said to the walls of the tower. “You should have taken our proverbs. You have sown the wind, and now you flail in the whirlwind, seeking any shelter for the storm you have wrought upon yourselves.” Alcippe might have attempted a reply, or she simply hissed a whimper. “Do you know your history?” Grover asked suddenly. “Of course you do not. Your Queen burns everything she does not like.” He waved a bloody claw about the room; his nightshirt was soaked to the elbow and it stuck to his arm. “This was the Nightmare’s tower.” Grover leered down at her. “I wonder if Maar came to her like you came to me, whispering poisoned honey into her ears. A promise of an endless night and eternal winter as the world froze. The death of everything under the adoration.” The Kaiser of Griffonkind shoved the changeling over with a paw. He straddled the mare’s barrel, wrapping his claws around her throat. The changeling had lost several teeth, including her left fang. She sputtered and her hooves flailed weakly against his shoulders. Grover ignored her hooves, even as one knocked against his beak and dislodged his glasses. He shook the pair off with a feral twist of his head. “You come here with nothing but more false promises of deception, dreaming of using family for betrayal, just to live another day.” Grover was taller than her, and he had a longer reach. He pinned her hooves to her barrel with his elbows when he leaned down atop her. His light brown wings folded down to keep her hind legs from kicking. “But I am not an alicorn,” Grover snarled loudly, “and I am not so easily tempted by whispers in the night.” The changeling gasped as the claws constricted her neck; she already struggled to breathe from her broken muzzle. Grover lowered his beak, almost to her remaining eye. “If the Gods exist and they desire anything in this world,” Grover whispered only to her, “it would be this war. Keep your eye open. I wish to see your light fade from this world.” The purple eye began to dim. “My Kaiser!” a voice barked out. Grover felt something grab his shoulder. He turned with a squawk and buried the tip of his beak into the paw. Benito howled in pain and tugged his paw free. Grover blinked, suddenly registering the dozens of knights surrounding the tower turret. Blood dripped down from his beak. He lifted his head up and stared at them. None of the blurs along the wall met his wild deep blue irises. Benito’s muzzle trembled. “Please,” he said in a measured voice to control the pain. “If you wish her dead, allow us, my Kaiser.” He clutched one paw over the other. Blood seeped into gray fur and dripped onto one of his boots. Grover looked down at the changeling, then wrenched his claws free. It was hard to tell with black chitin, but there was an imprint around her neck. After a moment, the changeling shuddered and breathed in. “I…” Grover paused and heaved. He slowly stood to all fours. “I do not wish her dead. Bring up healing potions.” His eyes scanned the wall until he landed on the vague shape of a pony. “Countess Raison, bring up the Aquileian healers. I want her alive.” The pony did not move. “Now,” Grover added. The tip of his beak was wet and he felt something drip from it. The vague shape galloped out the room, taking the door to the stairwell. Grover stalked back to the table. His claws and paws moved carefully over the debris trail and notes. A piece of paper stuck to a sticky claw and Grover brushed it free. “Ironpaws,” he said aloud to the room. “Bring Alcippe downstairs for treatment. It will be easier there. Once she is stable, bring her to the Princess’ camp.” “My Kaiser,” Loudbark nodded. Grover only saw the head bob. “Knight-Captain Wavewing,” Grover announced. There was a shuffling of wings behind him, but nothing more. “Bring her to the Princess’ camp by flight. I want the entire Rosewood, Longsword, and Opinicus orders to assemble a war flock.” “My Kaiser,” several voices said behind him. Grover stood over the wrecked table. His claws pushed through the folders and wooden splinters for a moment. “You will repeat your offer of surrender to the Princess, Alcippe,” Grover said in a hard voice. “If you are not capable of doing so, one of my knights shall do it for you. Volunteers?” “I will.” “Thank you, Sir Geralt,” Grover said idly. He did not look over his wing at the white-furred griffon, having guessed by the voice. The room was still very quiet, and only the faint exhales of the broken changeling on the floor carried across the stones. “If the Princess chooses to assault the city,” Grover said aloud, “you are under her direct command. Go now.” “My…” Grandmaster Jürgen swallowed. “My Kaiser, that is-” “That is my order,” Grover completed for him, “and my knights will follow it. Dismissed.” There was a shuffling and clanking of armor as the room knelt and bowed. Grover sat down on the chair and squinted down at the ruins and blood before it. He waved a wing. “Dismissed. See to the changeling first.” The noise of shuffling armor pervaded the room. Grover sat quietly in his chair as the two Ironpaw dogs hauled up the changeling and carried her down the stairs between them. She hung like a ragdoll, and only the choking exhales indicated she was still alive. Grover turned to the balcony and two shapes against the forest and the stars. “You as well,” he said to Hans and Morgain. The shapes bowed and flew off the balcony without argument. A pair of glasses swam into focus in front of his beak. Grover blinked at them, then at the paw, and finally at Benito. The dog held them in one paw, with his other paw held behind his back. “My Kaiser,” Benito said lowly. Grover wasn’t sure if he was trying to be quiet, or trying to suppress the pain from entering his voice. “I shall fetch your medical team.” Grover moved to accept the glasses with his right claw, then hesitated and grabbed them with his left. He wiped the lenses on his nightshirt, adding his claw to the stain after a moment. He didn’t need to hook the glasses onto his beak to know the shirt was ruined. Grover examined his split knuckles and talon tips. “I am fine, Benito. Bruises, nothing more.” “I would still send your-” “Have them see to the changeling,” Grover said with finality. “And your paw.” “Nothing more than a glancing wound by a careless dog, my Kaiser.” Grover licked the tip of his beak and examined how Benito’s whiskers shook slightly as he suppressed a grimace. I doubt that. “See to the injury. That is an order. Dismissed.” The dog backed away over the scatter of splinters, but hesitated with his paw still behind his back. “I would still-” “Get the fuck out,” Grover sighed atop his chair. The dog left. He never let Grover see the paw, but as he turned to the door, the griffon saw the red stain on the back of his jacket where he pressed the wound against his coat. The door shut behind him as a guard reached backwards and tugged it closed. Grover was alone in an empty room, like he preferred. He rubbed his claws against the nightshirt again to clean them off. “Out, out damned spot!” his beak mumbled in an attempted laugh. He did not find it as funny as he hoped. The Kaiser stood in his shirt and pajama bottoms; he pushed the chair to the side and began picking through the wreckage of the table. He found the pistol first, having falling under one of the collapsed legs and knocked clear. Lucky, Grover snorted to himself. He tucked into the waistband of his pajamas. The Friendship Journal was found next; Grover used a few ruined reports to wipe blood off the cover of the bound book. He set it to the side. He did not find the wooden alicorn. It seemed to disappear in the splinters and metal figures. After several minutes of fruitless searching, Grover picked up the book and walked to the balcony. He stopped under the map of the world, then turned back and climbed into the hole in the tower. After a moment, the lights strung through the rafters flickered off as he unplugged the cord. The tower was dark. Grover climbed back through the hole with the book tucked under a wing. The full moon lit up the Everfree, and the ash had settled across the earth. The sky was clear again. There was barely enough light to see the horizon, and Mount Canterhorn loomed from the valley to the north. Grover did not go to the railing; he leaned against the stone opening and undid the lock on the bound Friendship Journal. He opened it after wiping his claws against his pants one last time to clean them. Several dozen sheets of paper rested inside a carved-out section. The Friendship Journal was hollow, pages scooped out to make a secret opening. Grover had thought it was terribly clever when he was eleven, but deeply regretted it now. It was hard to find an intact copy after the Great War. There was not truly enough light to properly see the folded papers, but Grover picked through them by feel. The one he shook free was unlike the others. It had been torn apart and clumsily glued back together. When he unfolded it with delicate talons, a corner was missing that had never been recovered. It appeared to be a blank page. Grover set the book down and tucked it back under a wing. He leaned against the opening with the blank page, not truly looking at it and feeling a zephyr blow through the forest. He stayed there for some time. He stayed there long enough for a long, low scream to echo from the base of Mount Canterhorn. It was a cry of rage and despair that melded together into one long note that swayed through the trees. Grover looked up from the letter as a bright golden light flared at the base of the mountain. A pure beam of golden fire lanced up the side of the mountain, searing through the air and turning night into day. The entire valley was lit up by the glow. It burned all the way up the mountain, aiming at the edge of the city hanging off the side. At the last moment, the beam turned away, tearing across the sky as the cry of rage guttered into a wordless howl of anguish. It choked out in a sob. The beam lost power and began to fade. Grover looked back down at the torn note. The fading light illuminated the page. It was blank; the spell that once was on it had been destroyed when it was torn apart. The words did not appear even after it had been rebuilt. But Grover still remembered them. Grover, I don’t want your help. If you ever cared, let Frederick’s family go. Flurry. The fire arcing through the sky was finally spent with a long sob. It faded as quickly as it came, and the base of the Mount Canterhorn was quiet again. Distant lights shone from the camp. Grover carefully refolded the note. Grover tucked the letter back with the rest, then carried the book back to his private room. He washed his claws off properly in a basin and decided to eat a simple breakfast of cereal long before dawn. Grover stayed up, and word reached him with the sunrise. There would be no assault. The Princess’ army had pushed up the road during the night, nearly to the city gates. The crumbling garrison had fallen back against the castle and noble estates, facing a herd of their former servants and slaves attempting to run them down through the city. The first negotiations were scattered. There had been an hour of confusion, then Generalmajor Jachs formally surrendered Canterlot for the lives of his remaining soldiers. And Alcippe. The city gates were opened. A combined force of ELF veterans and Griffonian knights entered the city to disarm the garrison and assess if it was a trap. More followed as the sun dragged across the sky. Clouds were brought in to put out the remaining fires. The Princess did not appear all day. She remained at the base of the mountain in camp. The Kaiser remained at the castle.