The entrance of the tent flapped violently from the sudden intrusion of two guards, their halberds poised threateningly to strike at the supposed pony that their Prince cried out. Walter Griffy seemingly had the same idea, as he had smoothly unsheathed his sword in one stroke to point accurately at the still unamused pony's neck. The tip narrowly bristled against the target's coat, his steady breathing threatening to sink its blade deeper and draw blood.
Danilo would've squeaked if it wasn't for his 'apprentices' composure, which emboldened him too to think things clearly and somehow maneuver out of this mess.
Grover still stared incredulously at the pony in his tent. Sure, it wasn't his first time seeing a pony, for he had been graced with their presence at court from either the delegations from Aquileia or Southern Griffonia who sometimes brought ponies with them. Tartarus, it wasn't even the first time a pony was this close, nor even in his royal tent. What he was really surprised about was that a cossack, the eternal enemy of the ponies, had apprenticed one of their most dreaded races, the very same from the Riverlands that had oppressed them.
Griffy didn't really care about all that. He just knew he had fought with ponies numerous times, and hated their guts on the count that they were liked by the cravens from Herzlander's south. Compound that with his mother's tales of pony debaucheries and general deviancy, and his opinions of ponies were either that they were slaves or enemies. Griffy didn't see any chains on this pony, ergo, enemy.
Making matters worse, soldiers all over the camp began gathering around the royal's tent. Despite being forbidden from doing so unless being addressed by their liege, the commotion from their Prince's shout and the steel-beaked guard's sudden entry to the tent had elicited their great interest. Also, an ever greater worry. Was their Prince in danger? Some began to uneasily brandish their weapons.
"Sire?" The same rude guard from before asked his shocked Prince for orders, not letting his eyes escape the pony while doing so.
Grover II blinked. "At ease! The pony poses no harm!" He shouted towards the entrance.
"Sire?!" Background guard 2 sputtered, his grip on his arms loosening ever-slightly.
The dwellers of the camp similarly broke into a mad choir of whispers, some still doubtful that there even was a pony, but most professing their long-thought beliefs that a pony could not be harmless.
Of course, the Herzlanders of the camp were the biggest proponents of the lattermost theory. The Aquileians among them though were a mix of both while the sparse Wingabardians among them fiercely defended their pony neighbours. Soon enough, the atmosphere of fear quickly began boiling over into hatred, as the soldiers of the camp slowly grew louder and more spiteful of each other, their initial worry gone.
Once again, regionalism threatened to split the Prince's army apart.
For once, Griffy recognised the precarious atmosphere, prompting him to swiftly stash his blade. "RIGHT HE IS! THIS, -MERE COLT POSES NO HARM!" He announced. Very loudly. Evergriff in the in the tent cringed in pain.
But it seemed to do the trick, as everygriff around suddenly was reminded of why they had even gathered in the first place. To protect the Prince. His most trusted commander and first-hand testimony spoke of his safety... So what were they doing?
The soldiers quickly dispersed, departing to their self-segregated parts of the camp, presumably to return to their usual tasks. Get inebriated or maintain.
The guards still uneasily eyed the pony, their tension still low as the only equine in the room seemed to be on the verge of falling asleep. He would've snoozed too, if it wasn't for a certain Baron's outburst.
"I'm not a colt." The pony with two halberds leaning against his neck growled with a scowl, "I'm a stallion."
Danilo dove his head into his cusped claws, suppressing a groan for the decisions that he took that led to the situation now.
"Guards." Grover II muttered tiredly, "You're dismissed." He dejectedly pointed at the exit.
"You heard the Prince! Git' out!" Griffy unexpectedly lunged to push the guards out, visibly to their great displeasure. Even as they fully exited the tent, with Griffy's arms extended out the entrance as it still clung to their shoulders, they still kept their eyes on the ever-unamused 'stallion'.
Grover was impressed at their loyalty and diligence. But he had enough of that in Griffy already, and he was sick of it.
Griffy wheeled with trained elegance, landing his paws towards the acclaimed 'stallion' with a manic grin. His stance was confrontational, still remaining bipedal to add height and somehow leaning forward despite the troubles in balancing. "So..." The baron started, but then suddenly broke into a confused stupor, "Uh. What now?"
Grover, mirroring the expressions of the 'stallion,' faced Danilo, "Now. We ask Danny about his little apprentice."
"I'm not li-!" The pony tried to indignantly yell but was muffled by a whole clenched claw. Grover cringed at the subsequent bite. Ouch.
Hide the pain Danilo "-But of course, sire! Please pardon us, insignificant creatures!" Danilo kowtowed, pulling his supposed apprentice along. At least, he tried to, as the pony resolutely pushed back against his alleged mentor's pull.
Griffy snickered at the display. "Alright, enough of that now. Let go of that claw, will ya?" The pony stared confusedly, before quickly loosening his jaw once briefly glancing at the location of Danilo's claws. It was an amusing scene, especially so, as the pony poorly disguised his embarrassment.
Grover slowly groaned, "Danny. I didn't march all this way, away from the capital to have my paws be suckled by some sleazy noble."
"Right!"
Grover's eyes drifted to his side briefly.
"...So get on with the story, orrrr- I'll bend your digits backwards." He casually decided with a nod.
The pony moved to valiantly defend his mentor, but Danilo pushed forward, finally taking the initiative during the 'meeting'. "I would first like to disclose that I'd... Omitted some information from our previous conversation."
"Mhm-hm?" Grover smiled innocently at this revelation. Griffy became disturbed. By whom, nobody would know.
Danilo contemplated momentarily whether he should even tell his new charge of this information. What would it even serve? But he already had a paw out the door, so his admittance was guaranteed, the question is, should he question the Prince's patience?
He glanced at the subject matter. H̷̡͔̹̰̞̜̆̉͜e̶̮͓͔͔͎̐ ̸̻̪̊́̏͑͌̾́h̸̢̞̻̯̦̟͋̓̆̆̾͋͠ͅa̵̪͋̃̔d̴̺̯̊̾̈́̆̋̕ ̸̢͈̞̹̜͗̋͐͜p̵̼͎̊̊̀̽̈́̅̕u̴̢̨̗͔͖̮̇̿̾̆̌ṷ̶̳͈̱̤͋p̴̢͇̮̙͈͖͓̐̂̍̒̾̐͝ý̵̱ ̶͔̆́̾d̴̺̄͛̉̑o̸̗͇̹͚̊͘ğ̵̣͈̱̍̏̋͆̿̚ ̸̲̀́͋͂ę̷̒̓͘y̶̦̯͕̘̠̋̅̚ę̶͙̳̥͋̍͂̉͒̋͝ͅͅs̶͚̳̓.
Danilo decided he had to live, for the sake of his apprentice. His close presence reminded him of that.
"It wasn't I that collected all those signatures." Danilo held his pony close, and the emotional support fluff didn't push back.
"-You lied?"
Griffy was sweating up a storm. Danilo swore he could see his boots overfilling with it.
"NO! -I mean, no. No, Your Majesty, since technically you spoke on my behalf in saying I did it all in, quote, 'lonesome'." Danilo spoke in careful terms.
Griffy very poorly hid his sporadic glance to his Prince, as if trying to find the cue for his escape.
"Hm."
Grover deliberately pondered, then lightheartedly recalled, "Yes, I remember saying that. How silly of me!"
"THAT YOU AREN'T! HE SHOULD'VE BEEN CLEARER! -I WILL SLAY THIS SWINE TO RECTIFY HIS CRIMES!" Griffy all but leapt to his sword, committing a somersault while grasping the sheath of his blade in both claws. On his back, with trained swiftness, he reached for the hilt of his blade with an obsolete claw to presumptively pull it, but before he landed expertly on his paws.
...Only for an unseen hoof to suddenly extend from the pony's cloak and launch a dagger. A dagger, whose pommel violently smashed against the hilt of Griffy's blade, immediately removing any progress the Baron had in unsheathing it.
"PEACE!" Grover roared, while momentarily glaring deathily at the guards who thought it was their cue to also move in. The prince absently noticed the dagger harmlessly sink into the thick grass below.
Griffy nervously looked to his Prince, but only after flashing the pony an impressed, but hateful glare. Danilo looked like he would faint again. The pony replied with a glare of his own, directed at the baron which dared flash edge at his mentor.
Grover shifted his claw through his upper plumage (essentially, hair), sighing. "Boreas help me... Need I ask why your 'apprentice' has a concealed weapon? -That he brought into the royal tent no less?"
Danilo sputtered incoherently, but it was all pointless since the pony spoke first anyway, "It looks like I needed it." He bluntly dismissed.
Grover stared at the unbelievable pony. "Y'know-, Fuck. I don't care anymore, just tell me your name and why you're Danny's apprentice."
"-He's my dad."
...
...
...
"WHAT?!"
After an uncanny Deja Vu had been dispelled once again, at the credit of Griffy's charm, the situation within the camp had returned to normal. Except with one extra piece of information: THE PONY WAS DANNY'S SON.
"I don't see it." Griffy proved to be of further assistance, "This filly really your fledgling?"
Danilo clamped his supposed successor's muzzle, preventing his angry growl from escaping. "Yes, and his name is Pavlo. Pavlo Skorepadsky Apostle." He finally yielded,
"Skorepadsky? -Yee' had a middle name?" Griffy glared at the cossack, suspicious of why he was so secretive.
Danilo shrugged in response, "I was never asked. It is of little importance anyways."
Griffy was inclined to believe, but the Prince entered a state of vigilance. Something about those two names hit something deep in his conscience.
Grover repeated the name in his head, as it seemingly provoked a certain section of his long-term memory. Reconstruction was hard, but thankfully, he had recently revisited the texts of previous Zaphzian Hetmans to prepare him for this campaign, and he soon drew some connections.
"Apostle... Skorepadsky." Grover said out loud, "Are you perhaps related to Ivan Skorepadsky?"
Griffy's expressions brightened in realisation, "The deceased late Hetman?"
"The very same." Grover nodded, awaiting for Danilo's response.
The cossack's expressions immediately soured, and the late Hetman's name seemed to similarly discourage Pavlo who was still close to him. "He was my brother by law." Danilo managed without a hiss.
"Sibling troubles, 'ey? Trust me, I've been 'tere. Nearly strangled one of my own very closely before." Griffy assured leisurely.
Danilo passively stared at the insensitive baron. "He caused the death of my beloved spouse."
Silence.
...
...
"Shit! -What's the story?!" Griffy much-too enthusiastically exclaimed,
"Hold-on, no no, I'm not gonna hear another bloody history lesson!" Grover suddenly reminded himself of the impending predicament. His expression flexed initially as an attempt to cease whatever would come next. Unfortunately, Danilo had fully realised the reality of possessing the initiative.
"...It was the faithful year of 738 ALB of the pony's calendar. The then Hetman, Ivan Skorepadsky, my brother, recruited my expertise to fend off a Riverlander retaliation..."
"NO! NO! NOT AGAIN!"
The world began to blur, as a flashback began to slowly manifest.
"That... Wretched soon-to-be-vanquished Grand Prince Frail Spear of Jezeragrad launched a punitive expedition against our state. Foolishly believing a war with us would bring swift victory and secure their stability."
"NOOOOOOO!"
Grover desperately grasped at the fabric of reality. Futilessly, as he was soon swallowed into the world of flashbacks.
