Griffenheim. 3 PM.
Grover weeps for what feels like hours, his plans ruined. What the hell is he supposed to do? He only paid bare attention to what Bellzar did with his studies so he knew a little, but a little doesn't mean anything when he doesn't have the schematics! Ok think, those rifles used tiny rockets... yes, crystal-infused rockets, to increase damage and range, but how? He didn't remember Bellzar saying where the crystals were from- Grover is suddenly pried from his misery by a strong claw shaking him. It's Gabriella.
She stares down at him with the slightest pity she was willing to offer to him, Grover gives the smallest of smiles but she's realized something, watching her... she doesn't even know what to call him now, it's not her Grover. Watching this... false Grover weep for some child-napper madgriff made her eyes twitch, filled her with shock and confusion. Was this really Grover? Her Grover? Did he have skeletons in his closet that even she didn't know about? How does he know about this madgriff anyway?
Grover gets up from the floor and puts the file back into its cabinet, before sighing while turning to Gabriella, "Look, I know for a fact that you probably broke your way in here, so I'm going to say nothing about you being here, and we don't talk about," he nodded towards the filling cabinet, "that or what I did after finding it, understood, cousin?"
Gabriella gave the slightest of nods and Grover turned back and started to walk away only for Gabriella to call out, "Wait, how did you know the file would be here?"
Grover stopped and looked back, "The uh.... The Gods told me," before going off again. For a moment Gabriella wonders if he's serious, before sighing and starting to go back out the way she came.
'Something's clearly not right with him.... maybe Othmar would notice something I can't? He's been friends with him since the two were born, then again, he's been stuck in the second worst state in the empire, Angriver, since the 70s. He's also, probably, the main reason that the barony hasn't fallen into open revolt,' she thinks as she quickly walks through the twisting halls.
'Then again, Angriver's been doing pretty decently recently, so maybe Othmar can peel himself away from Angriver and head to Griffenheim... or... I can head to Angriver. I heard Angriver's spring is nice and cool... or, I can just send a telegraph to Othmar... he's always open for a letter,' she nods to herself as she finally reaches the exit. She cracks it open to see, and upon seeing no one, completely opens it, closes it behind her, and quietly locks it, before flying off.
His knights find Grover in the lobby, the bureaucrat apologizes to the Kaiser and says that they couldn't find the file, the Kaiser just nods, and doesn't tell him his discovery. The rest of the day seemingly passes by like an arrow's flight. It felt like nothing, he'd barely noticed until, "Your Highness, it's almost midnight, you should head to bed," and Grover's head snaps to the griff speaking. It's a servant, dark circles around his eyes that'll probably match his if he stays up any longer. Grover looks at the clock, 11:43 PM. He vaguely remembers what he has been doing since he came back from the records office. He spent most of his time in the throne room, listening to more nobles babble on about problems he had to pretend to care about so his state could continue to function.
Oh, how he wished he had the same power he had back when he was entombed upon that throne. He'd just execute the lot of them; honestly, he probably did execute the lot of them, he just forgot all their names. But now he had to listen to them bicker. He sighed, and that sigh turned into a yawn, as he slowly blinked, "I think, it is indeed time for me to retire for bed, thank you, servant," he muttered as he got off the throne and started heading back to his room.
As he walked back, he thought, 'There has to be some schematics or diagrams that Bellzar wrote down, he was mad, not stupid. And what about Gabriella? The way she looked at me... it was like she didn't even recognize me. Well, I guess I really have changed all that time ago, but I thought I could... keep it somewhat hidden. Apparently not.,' he sighed as he entered his room, his guards taking post outside said room. He practically threw his clothing off him, hastily put them away, and climbed into bed wearing nothing. He probably shouldn't be doing this, but this is the first time in decades he hasn't worn clothing, and he could feel a gentle breeze on him and it was really nice on his feathers. For a moment he wonders, did anything else come back to this time when he blinked? But that thought was washed away but the sudden surge of much-needed rest.
Near Griffenheim. 9 in the morning.
Großmarschall Othmar Stoiber yawned loudly in the train carriage. He got the telegraph from Gabriella a few hours ago and was somewhat disturbed by what he was given. He normally would just wave it off as just some randomness from Gabriella fucking with him, but Baron Leer had stated that Grover seemed different and was surprised that the "sick old bird" actually stood up for someone.
Now Grover wasn't a coward, but from his time as old friends, Grover was more... passive. More allowing to hear people make their insults and quietly write them up on a very long list. At least that's what he did with half the palace staff when they were teenagers some years before... the revolution. He vaguely wondered what happened to that list before taking another look at the telegraph he brought with him.
Othmar. Stop.
I need to see you. Stop.
Grover has changed, mentally, in an unknown way recently. Stop.
Will explain more once you arrive. Stop.
Do not take anyone with you, except guards if needed. Stop.
-Gabriella.
Othmar sighed, he was already planning to head to Griffenheim recently, with his family, but this threw a wrench into his plans. He'd either have to ignore the duchess of the second strongest region in the empire, or just talk to her and find out what's wrong, in her opinion probably, with his old friend. The choice was obvious, and though his wife complained, she did relent once he said it was the duchess. Now he was on a train just stopping at Griffenheim station, without any guards, he trusted Gabriella enough and the soldiers were better off being back at Angriver fighting bandits.
He, along with the countless other griffons in the carriage, got up and slowly, one by one, got off the train as another batch of griffons got on it. Othmar took a deep breath, yep, the air still tasted just as foul as it was during the revolution, before coughing. Bloody air seemed a little thicker... and oddly... kind of brownish red, though he blinked and the strange color disappeared. Those bloody factory owners probably put something new in their stuff to do... something to it. Yeah, probably.
Before he could even leave the station, a knight bearing a tabard with the symbols of the Strawberry duchy upon them, walked up to him and asked, "Are you Großmarschall Othmar?".
"Last I checked, yes, my name is still Othmar, knight," Othmar spoke with a small smirk on his beak. As the knight... well Othmar couldn't see anything under his helmet so he just assumed he was frowning.
"Of course, Großmarschall, please follow me, the duchess is waiting," the knight says before turning and walking, with the Marshal following quickly behind, out of the train station, and into the city proper. Griffenheim, the seat of the empire, and, at least to those pan-griffonianists, the true and proper seat of griffonkind itself. Othmar vaguely thought if the first griffon who coined the word "pan-Griffonianism" ever realized just how much blood would be, and already had been, spilled for that idea.
The knight leads Othmar to a somewhat small car, bearing the ducal emblem of Strawberry, and gestures to Othmar to climb inside, into the back seats, Othmar does and the knight joins him. The moment the door to the back seats is closed, the car starts up and joins up in the traffic of the great city.
It isn't long before Othmar speaks, "So what did the duchess actually want to see me about? Apart from my friend?"
The knight just shakes his head, "I wasn't told anything, Großmarschall, that's just for you and the duchess".
Othmar sighs, "It's Othmar, you can call me Othmar".
Not an ounce of humor is heard behind the faceplate of the knight's helmet as he says, "Of course, Großmarschall," Othmar sighs again before looking out the window, watching the passing streets of the ancient capital. Gods, how long ago it felt when he and Grover played around without a care in the world. He could still remember when Grover, or little Grovy as he called him, to make sure not to confuse him with his father, saw his first car. He could still remember Grovy telling him he could keep up with him forever now. Then Grovy got told that cars needed fuel to run and weren't allowed inside the halls of the palace, or in the yards outside it. The look on Grovy's face would've been hilarious if it wasn't also depressing
Othmar sighed sadly as he remembered those days; Grovy got told that just a few months before he turned 18, which was so close to... the Revolution. As much as the press and historians would love to say otherwise, he was just a normal 20-year-old griff who found himself in control of the few imperial units loyal to the Kaiser outside the capital. And combined with the complete mess that was the revolution where no one knew who to trust, and facing the prospect of his closest friend being dead, murdered by the very griffs he was fighting... he was, and still is, surprised he was able to keep, not just some amount of morality, but... everything he did, treating prisoners well, dining with commanders, the like... well, if he disappeared today, history would simply write of him being a gentlegriff officer who saved the empire without compromising his morals, and he didn't know how to take that. He still respected the Republicans, in that strange way you can respect a lifelong rival who has similar ideals to yourself, but in such a different way of achieving them.
He glanced back towards the knight, looking straight forwards as though he hasn't moved at all since entering, Gods he probably hasn't, but if he knew what was going through Othmar's mind, he'd probably call him an NRP sympathizer and try to arrest him. The mere thought of the officer who helped save the empire being arrested for being pro-NRP drew a small chuckle from the griff.
Suddenly, as if the chuckle reminded the knight that someone else was in the car, the knight asked, "How was the train trip, Großmarschall?"
Othmar turned towards the knight as he spoke, "Better than I thought I'd be, I only had to get off at a different station and head to another station once, and after that, it was smooth riding to Griffenheim, I'm honestly surprised any of the big nobles managed to not... disagree with each other long enough for the railroads to be connected up this well!" Othmar gives a chuckle under his breath as the knight says nothing more, "Right... good talk," Othmar mutters before turning back towards the window on his side of the car, 'Where the hell does Gabriella get these tight-lipped knights, even the band of knights back home talk more than this'.
It's 30 minutes past 9 when Othmar finally arrives at Gabriella's personal estate in Griffenheim, it's somewhat humble compared to most other noble houses, the only difference being the proper amount of flags, emblems, and general symbology showing that this specific estate belonged to the duchess of Strawberry. He's led in, harassed by a guard who wasn't told that anyone was being summoned, and is soon at the door leading directly to the duchess. He takes a deep breath as one of the twin guards, both wearing tabards with the emblem of Strawberry upon them, knocks at the door, before loudly speaking, "Duchess, the Großmarschall has arrived, shall he be let in?"
After a few seconds, a loud voice erupts from the other side of the door, "Send the Großmarschall in, please," and the guard cracks open the door for Othmar to squeeze into the rather spacious room, which looks to be some kind of combination of a study and living room, and in one of the chairs of the study sat the Duchess herself looking off at some landscape painting. Wordlessly, Othmar walked towards her and sat on the only chair facing her.
"Why do you want me, Duchess?"
Gabriella sighed before looking Othmar in the eyes, "Grover regained his ability to fly," and suddenly everything stops. Gabriella looks back off to that painting as Othmar sits there, in confusion, then realization, then shock.
"He... regained the use of his wings? I don't understand, when did he lose it in the first place?"
"He never told you? He had the Aquaillean Wing Mark Plague," Othmar didn't say anything for a moment, the slightest frown on his beak, before slumping down in his chair.
"He didn't tell me... h-how did he- he recovered, right? We have the best doctors in Griffonia! Why else wo-"
"He got the illness back in 1004. He hasn't been able to use his wings for almost two years, until now of course".
"What? Then how did he- what-" Othmar takes a moment to breathe, absorbing the thoughts, "How did he... regain use of his wings.... what happened to my friend?"
Gabriella gave a sad frown, "So much, Othmar, so much... but it certainly started yesterday, at around 5 in the morning".
Griffenheim. Just turned 10 AM.
Grover had no meetings until 4 PM, so, after he accidentally scared his maid who came into the room thinking he was clothed, try and figure out how the fuck Bellzar Bollzen made those guns and armor. It was coming along... very poorly.
Grover had already spent the last 3 hours, he woke up at 7, just getting the necessary blueprints-to-be and equipment to write down what the armor and guns were. He had spent the last ten minutes just looking at the pieces of paper, after just drawing down the suits of armor and guns just trying to remember how the hell they worked. Another minute passed and Grover lowered his pen, the tip just on the board, ready to draw out the first of the greatest weapons that griffonkind would ever see. Then another minute passed and Grover raised his pen... he couldn't remember anything.... he didn't have any reason to remember how his star knight's armor or weapons were created from the basic level. And no one could, Bellzar was dead, his imperium was gone, there was no star knight who could give his armor or weapon to a team of scientists... there was nothing except memories that simply didn't remember the important parts.
Grover's grip around the pen tightened, and anger flowed through the griff's body, before Grover sighed, and placed the pen back into its inkwell. There was always next time... he had a few years to remember... maybe even telling his scientists about it could make them produce a, albeit a probably weaker, version of those weapons or armor though... then they'd ask him where he got the idea.... then again he could just say he got it in a dream or in a fit of prayer. Somehow he doubts they'd accept that. But... he had to at least try, he'd send some of his "schematics" as well.
Grover grabbed one of the many pieces of blank letters and the pen again and started to write.