//------------------------------// // Chapter 17 - Down in Griffon Town (Revised) // Story: Bad Mondays // by Handyman //------------------------------// There are times when a man just needs to sit down and reflect on his decisions in life. Not the ones he took immediately before finding himself at the bottom of a dark, seemingly endless cave system with nothing but the ethereal light of heatless torch to guide him, but then, what choice did he have? He couldn’t exactly use real fire anymore, can’t take the risk. No, rather, one should think how life would be different if only he had possessed a bit more patience. If only he hadn’t hung up on that client at five past six that evening, deciding to quit his job and type up the resignation email before he got stuck with the inevitable layoff everyone knew was looming over them. If only he had stopped to double check to make sure that his front, right wheel wasn’t punctured instead of just saying ‘screw it’ and driving home anyway. If only he took his time on the roads, slick as they were with rain and black frost that refused to melt. If only he did anything other than rush home that night. If only, if only… Then he probably wouldn’t be soaked, traumatized, unpleasantly hungry in more than one way and utterly lost. He’d probably still be at home, trying to figure out how to pay for the oil and his utilities now that he was jobless. Searching the classifieds in vain for anything above minimum wage, if even that, probably eating out of date cereal, idly checking the clock to see if the news is on so he could find a way to kill twenty minutes. Probably watch a rerun of Pacific Rim because damn if he had anything better to do, he never really did. He considered whether or not that would be preferable to the life he lived now and at times like this, he certainly thought so. However, one cannot sit idly by and consider imponderables for too long, he did, in fact, have a job to do after all. The witch had said she was only stuck down here by herself and if he wanted to get out he’d need to help her out as well. To think, this week had started off so well… He rounded a bend, droplets of water bouncing off his armour, he shivered with the chill. When he got back, he was going to put his feet in a dish of warm water, wrap himself in twenty blankets, eat some soup and tell the world to rightly fuck off as he sat beside a roaring fire. From the other side of the room of course, it wouldn’t do to be careless after all, he learned that the hard way. Pulling himself up on a ledge he continued, the burning brand he carried bent and fluttered in the direction of the exit, a neat little trick the witch had given him, he thought about keeping it. Kind of like a subterranean compass. He kept walking until he saw light in the distance, and hope grew in his heart. Along with concern. The ground uneven and the limestone stalagmites brittle as he kicked them out of his way. This place was practically coming down with water, and the stone was extraordinarily weak. He actually wondered if he hit a wall in just the right place, would it just break apart and flood the entire cave? It didn’t bear thinking about. He wondered what could be keeping a sorceress like her down here, she had been incredibly vague. He knew why she didn’t just fly out herself, the well entrance was incredibly high and until he had accidentally caused something of a cave in, she didn’t even know where to find it again. Even so, her wings were frail and frayed, ravaged by age and malnutrition, fish is dandy of course, but when you have lived on it for a few years it loses its attraction. He crested the rise and continued walking down the length of darkness, the light getting brighter with each passing second. Eventually he had to cover his eyes as he came to the tunnel’s end, the glare of natural light, as little of it that shone through, was rough on eyes that had been used to the darkness and artificial light for hours on end. He blinked away the blindness and looked about. He had come out on a high ledge. It was a largely circular room, for a loose definition of circular, it still looked as natural and as rocky as the rest of the caves had been. The only anomalies of note were several parts of the ceiling and far wall which had given way, bright sunlight shone through and his armour shone magnificently as the rays hit the metal. There was a doorway, a proper stone gate that looked like it had a mechanical lever with which to open. That was odd, he noted, considering absolutely nothing else in the cave appeared constructed, who’d make a gate here? He clambered down from the ledge and made to walk towards the gate, was the witch seriously just stuck here because she wasn’t strong enough to open the obvious lock? He knew she was old but come on. He walked past the piles of dark rocks on the otherwise flat surface of the chamber. The walls shone in places with quartz and other such stones, the floor, however, was strewn with odd, small, greenish stones that didn’t appear anywhere else in the chamber, just strewn about the floor. They didn’t look terribly interesting to be honest, so he ignored them, he had a door to open and an overdue date with a hot shower and a good meal. If he never saw a cave again in his life it’d be too soo- There was the sound of stone moving against stone, the dull crack as rock gave way to pressure and broke as was necessary, the scrape of dust as living tendrils of the stuff flowed into a central position between Handy and the door. The dark rocks moved by their own across the floor before lifting up and clashing into eachother and the flowing storm of dust, the green stones lit up as they were carried by small whirlwinds and hurled at the gathering heap of stone. Handy took several steps back in surprise. The room shook as one after another, four rocky appendages crashed into the floor and Handy faced a quadrupedal golem of dark grey stone. Its short, roundish body strewn with the strange green rocks as well as the joints of its legs. It had no face to speak of, but its body turned to regard the human. His eyes widened in alarm as the magical torch he held went out, its flames leached into the green stones of the golem’s body which glowed warmly at the absorbed aetheric energy. He dropped the now useless brand and hefted his hammer into both hands, he left his shield on the surface, not that it’d be any use to him now. With a sound reminiscent of cascading shingle and shattered shale the animated rock shook with an echoing roar which had no origin and the chamber vibrated with its fury. Briefly Handy considered what exactly he could hope to do against such a beast with nothing but a hammer to his name, the chamber was not terribly big so trying to simply get around the creature to get to the door was going to be an issue. Even if he did, the lever looked rusted, it’d take at least a minute or two to move, he glanced behind him, the ledge was just a bit higher than he was tall, getting up there and back into the dark tunnel which would fit him but not this abomination was out of the question. He turned back to the golem, it had no eyes which he could blind, no bones beneath the rocky exterior which he could break, probably not even a mind he could reason with or trick. It was too stupid to be fooled, too big to be avoided, too hard to be cracked and far, far too close to him to be comfortable. He thought back to why he was here, and how he had chosen to come to this little town and how much he cursed a certain little Timothy Shorttail who was too curious for his own good. He took in a breath as he weighed his options. “Bollocks…” --=-- “What do you mean you can’t?” He had snapped. The prospect of having someone capable of sending him back home had been an exciting one, indeed, almost exhilarating. That very possibility was the primary reason he decided to spare the mare's life and calm his anger back in Canterlot before he did something he knew he was going to regret. Now that he had her here in Skymount, he began drilling her for information, to say that he was upset when the mare told him she couldn't just prepare another ritual to send him back would be an understatement. The two of them were in the guild master’s office the day they had arrived back in Skymount. Which, nominally belonged to Featherbrain, actually belonged to Handy and now currently belongs to Crimson Shade because Handy said so. The red mare shuffled her hooves nervously as she took a few steps back at the tone of his voice. He sighed, this was going to take some getting used to. You see, Crimson Shade has a problem, and that problem is called the slave mentality. Seeing as she spent her entire life referring to the one she was supposed to answer to as ‘mistress’, she actually does not know how to address anyone with any authority over her in any other manner. It was awkward trying to get her to stop referring to him as master on the flight back from Canterlot. Indeed, he couldn’t believe this was the same pony who had tried to kill him with an elemental on that train ride. When she wanted to kill or capture you she was as brave, fearless and stupid, as one could hope a minion to be, a mare with a mission. Faced with a complete stranger she was cold, indifferent and generally unpleasant, but could hold her own in a conversation to an extent, although it was amusing to see her treat a king as if he were no more than common rabble the few times Joachim actually bothered to strike up a conversation with her on the flight back. However, faced with someone with nominal authority over her, she has a complete one-eighty in personality, so much so it was actually kind of jarring to witness. One minute, brash confident and courageous, the next a God-damn shrinking violet. “W-well, the problem is we’re too late…” She began. At least she had stopped calling him master. “M-master.” God damn it. “First, stop calling me master, you’re not a slave. Second, what do you mean it’s too late?” “Well, the ritual was performed on a full moon…” She said slowly. Handy blinked. “You know there’s lots of those right? Kinda common.” “Y-you don’t understand, the moon itself wasn’t important for the ritual.” “Then why does a full moon matter?” “It’s the only time the starflies emerge.” She explained. Handy elected to avoid asking what the hell starflies were for now in favour of her further explaining how in the hell she managed to snag him from Earth. “And they’re needed because…?” He asked, there was muffled shouting and short crump noise, something exploded somewhere and the building shook. He sighed, that was probably Geralt Hindblade again. “Look, you know what? Don’t care. The full moon is still common enough.” “Yes but the alignment is gone.” “What alignment?” He asked, then groaned. “Don’t tell me it’s an alignment of the p-“ “It’s the alignment of the winds, master.” “Stop that. And winds? What winds?" “W-well, sometimes they’re called the forces, or waves, or-or Thuamatic convulsions-” Aaaand there she went. Handy was treated to a crash course lesson on the nature of magic. To be honest, he did not understand three quarters of the terminology she used but he believes he got the gist of it. Essentially the night he was brought into the world was the last of a small window of opportunity brought about by the alignment, or convergence, of sources of magic. It was apparently a minor manifestation but enough to power complex rituals with extreme ease. Most modern magical practice did not rely on such convergences, there was often little cause to, relying instead on the plentiful magic present in apparently God-damn everything and the specific magical power and skill of individuals wielding it. Her ritual however, required it according to the old magic she had invoked, due to the nature of what she had been attempting. Had she tried it normally the magical conflux, she needed to summon would have been far more then she could have handled… and it would have been very noticeable. "What do you mean by 'noticeable'?" he had asked. "A s-spell of that magnitude would require alot of power, so much so that even minor magic wielders would feel the aetheric disturbances, Mistress did not want to risk that. S-so we performed it at a time when the convergences would mask the magical drain used." Crimson explained. Handy shook his head and pressed on. “Well its not as if I need to hide from the princesses now." Handy reasoned, figuring that if unicorns were magical Alicorns were bound to be too, given those horns. "All I'd be doing is hopping the cosmic express back home, not trying to snag yog-shoggoth from his bath tub. So far, I understand this would be tremendously difficult…” Handy said, trying not to think about how similar this sounded to some kind of demonic summoning out of a bad fantasy novel. “But not impossible. What else could this require?” “I-it also needs a sacrifice.” She confirmed, Handy rubbed the bridge of his nose. So far the ritual required a full moon, rare creatures, convergence of special magical energies and a sacrifice. You know that part about Handy only pretending he was some dark, terrible spectre? Yeah, he really didn’t need that to actually be confirmed as fact, he couldn’t come up with a more ominous manner of coming to this world if he tried. “You had to kill something to bring me here?” “N-no! I didn’t kill anything!” “Then what was sacrificed?” “Life force.” “Tell me again how you didn’t need to kill something…” “Years! I-I only needed to give a few years!” She protested, Handy’s eyes widened. “Wait hang on… You gave up years off of your life?” He asked, she nodded slowly. Handy suddenly understood why she had tried so hard to get him back to her mistress. Fear of disappointing her mistress aside, he was literally a heavy investment on her part. He was not sure how to feel about that, other than shame at his treatment of the young mare thus far. He was no longer sure he wanted to continue this line of inquiry, but he had to at least try, it was a chance to go home. “…This alignment, how often does it occur?” He asked. “You said it was a minor one, I imagine that means, hopefully, it’s much more common than a major one?” She nodded again. “Yes. About once every hundred years or so.” She said. Handy just looked at her, causing her to shrink. He rubbed his forehead. “Alright… I guess we’ll forget about that ritual for now.” He sighed. “I’ll find some other way of getting back home.” Her ears picked up at that. “I can do it without the alignment, it’s just… Well…” She tried protesting. Handy shook his head. “No I don’t think so, you already said it was more then you could handle. Also I am not going to take years off of your life just to get back.” “Why not?” She asked, genuinely confused. He raised an eyebrow at that, did he really need to say why? “Because I am not a sociopath?” ’Well, most days anyway.’ He told her resolutely. In truth, he did actually consider her offer. It was tempting, he knew the greater part of him would never let him force the young mare to sacrifice more years off of her life just so he could go home. But he considered it. He then considered Crimson's description of how she pulled him from beyond the veil in the first place and a niggling doubt tugged at the back of his mind. About the possibility of her tearing a hole through the veil and landing him in oh, lets say, down town Mogodishu, or North Korea. Or fifty feet in the air. Or the middle of the Atlantic ocean. “What’s a sociopath?” Crimson asked. ’They don’t have a term for that? Really?’ “Nevermind. I said I wouldn’t harm you, and I am pretty sure taking years off of your life for my own benefit counts as harm.” He said putting his helmet back on and turning towards the door. “I’ll be back with you periodically, I have more questions, especially about the magic you use. But for now I should probably go back to the castle.” “W-what am I supposed to do, Master?” She asked as he opened the door. He looked back at her, his unamused expression did not transfer through the full face helm. There was a rush of wind and a blur of green and yellow feathers down the hallway outside. “Wait!” A ridiculously high pitched voice squeaked as another griffon ran down the hallway after the blur. “I got the formula wrong! Stop! You’re supposed to be blue!” Handy didn’t bother to regard the gryphonic foolishness. The look of surprise on Crimson’s face was priceless. “Just keep the alchemists out of trouble” He shrugged. “H-how?” She asked, it was a fair question. “Is the guildhall currently on fire?” “No…” “Try to keep it that way.” He said, exiting the door and, quickly as was decent, exited the madhouse entirely. He heard a godawful noise followed by the sound of groaning wood and a tremendous crack. Someone clearly broke something important on the second floor. He hesitated, wondering if Crimson could handle the task he had set her. The sight of her shrinking away from him whenever he so much as looked at her causing him to doubt the wisdom in placing her in charge of so many mad birds. There was a familiar sounding shout, a flash of red light out of the second storey windows and a yelp of one of the alchemists. He smiled, she’ll be fine so long as he isn’t standing over her. Making his way down the hill towards Skymount proper he looked up at the towers and parapets of castle Blackwing on the side of the mountain across the river. He frowned. Now that he thought about it, it was surprisingly big to look at, but he had managed to walk across almost the entirety of its interior in the space of an hour, and most of that was just making sure he was not going around in circles. Canterlot castle looked smaller from the outside but he had to try very hard not to get lost in the endless corridors, the twists and turns of the interior, and that was only the few wings he and the griffons had access to. And that little thought brought his attention to something else that has been eating away at him. ’Why didn’t they react?’ He thought. ’A shot had been fired and everyone just… Choked.’ In truth, it was not the endangerment of his own life that upset him, indeed, he knew full well he had no excuse to have reacted as slowly as he did that day. He had been running on a vampiric high afterall. However, there were kings present, had this happened in a human context there would have been no second guessing, no hesitation. Weapons drawn, leaders covered and dragged back to safety, enemies engaged to cover the retreat. It was just common sense. He had noticed the pony soldiers didn’t seem to do the same for their ruler either, his already poor opinion of them intensified in retrospect. It’s not as if they couldn’t fight, he had first-hand experience that they could, but they certainly didn’t react that day. The personal power of the princess be damned, that was just insultingly incompetent. When he made it back to the castle he was going to be having a delightful talk with Joachim about the subject. First things first however, time to give Klipwing the good news. It took him half an hour to locate the bird, he found him in the poor district by a construction site. Craftsgriffons were busy at work with surprising enthusiasm despite it being evening. The young griffon adjusted the spectacles on his grey face and smiled hesitantly at the human, Handy meanwhile, steeled himself for the inevitably dull conversation about upkeep. A brief chat had proved illuminating, the craftsgriffons were actually his new tenants, currently building their own workshop for their trade on the condition of reduced rent under Klipwing’s watch. Handy wasn’t entirely sure about that but it turned a useless plot of land into something that was some way profitable, and the craftsgriffons were paying for their own materials, so he did not voice his objections. The mill was still useless, but Klipwing suggested using the Haywatch farms so they could have a source to start milling yarn. Handy axed that idea, already scheduling the farms to be used to help the brewery. Taking a look over several forms the bird had handed the human, he pretended to shift through them attentively before something caught his eye. There were several dozen acres going on sale next to Haywatch estates at rock bottom prices, Handy was slightly concerned considering the last time his money was spent on cheap property it didn't turn out the best. He chewed the inside of his mouth. It was tempting, the landlords and small tenant farmers seemed desperately strapped for money, and judging by how much his changeling currency was worth, it'd be a pittance. He told Klipwing to put in bids for the new land in his name, he may get the crops for the revitalization of the mill after all. It still left the issue of who in the hell was going to buy the end product, but Handy would cross that bridge when he came to it. He waved his hand in a gesture to hurry it up and got told that the smithy was doing a steady trade, nothing amazing but at least turning something of a profit, the bakery was doing similarly well. The two barkeeps of the taverns he owned were actually brothers, which would explain why they looked so similar despite sounding different. Nothing Klipwing tried seemed to work in regards to livening up the trade both taverns were doing, and Jeremy’s tavern kept catching light spontaneously. On a whim, Klipwing decided to have the barkeeps switch taverns for the rest of the week, which, for some bizarre reason, resulted in an uptick of trade and Jeremy’s old bar stopped catching on fire. Klipwing soon surmised it was because he was clumsy whenever he put on the fire or tried to boil some water and his tavern was made largely out of wood whereas his brother’s was mostly stone. The personalities of the barkeeps being more appropriately to the clientèle of the two streets they were on. Handy just gawked at the bird for a few seconds after hearing all of that, before shaking his head and powering through. He informed Klipwing he no longer needed to oversee the guild anymore as he got someone else looking after it. Klipwing’s expression was noticeably neutral, nodding an affirmation slowly. He told Klipwing to keep an eye out on a particular barn in the southernmost farm for the next week as he was expecting a delivery there. The two parted. He was barely ten feet down the street when he heard shouts of joy behind him. Well, he was glad he was happy, now all that was left was to check in with dear old Joachy for a lovely chat. --=-- It was not a lovely chat. “Are you telling me you regret not being shot!?” “I’m telling you, my lord, that you should be a tad more concerned for your own God-damn safety!” In fact it had gone back and forth for quite some time, as the pair went from discussing legitimate concerns about the quality of Gethrenia's soldiery to their own little nitpicks about eachother's behaviour and personalities and back again. Perhaps Handy was being a bit too blunt and anti-social, perhaps Joachim a bit too insistent on playing the gracious diplomat that he never seemed to take decisive action. The point is they did not see eye to eye on the matter and Joachim did not like the human’s implications that his soldiers were unfit. He was, however, increasingly finding fewer and fewer counter arguments to the fact. The music echoing down the halls of the castle was distracting and not helping either one's moods. “Look, we haven’t had a proper war in All-Maker knows how long, you can’t expect soldiers to just dive right into a fight in a situation like that.” “I can and I do,” Handy fumed, he placed his hands on the edge of the desk as he leant over, taking in a breath through his nose to calm himself. “Look, where I come from? I’m nothing. I am literally just some scrub off the streets, worse than that even. Yet even I know when a God damn king, never mind four, are in an area and a shot is fired, his bodyguards had better get to guarding some motherfucking bodies.” “You’re nothing?” Joachim said in disbelief. “Aye, well I was. What, you think I’ve always been a warrior?” “Well no, not when I first met you I certainly didn’t. However…” “I’m nothing compared to a trained human warrior of my world’s poorest, smallest, weakest kingdom.” He said pointedly. “Talent and luck aside, that’s the point I am making. Your soldiers are woefully under par.” “Oh come, you go too far!” Joachim said, gesturing at Handy with a quill. The two were arguing in the royal quarters and Joachim was busy writing something in an overly large ledger when Handy happened upon him. “They’ve all been blooded before being made a member of the royal guard!” “There’s a difference between rooting out bandits, brigands and the occasional wild beast who got hungry and attacked some farmer’s chickens, clearly inferior foes and fighting pitched battle against equals.” Handy protested. “I am not questioning their skill with their weapons, I am questioning the quality of their nerve and whether they actually have a pair.” Joachim jumped from his seat at that, his wings slightly raised from his sides. “What are you saying exactly, Handy?” “I am saying I expected more from Griffons.” “So you’d prefer if my guards had engaged the ponies and started a war? Over you?” He asked, Handy just chuckled at that. “You and I both know I don’t give a damn about me in this discussion. I got into that situation by my own doing and if I died, so I died, I wouldn’t hold that against you. No, I would not want a war, but your guards should have gotten you, out of there. Do you understand what I am saying?” He asked, Joachim was silent. “You are a king now, Joachim. Unless you have a cousin hiding somewhere that you haven’t told me about, I believe you’re the last legitimate heir of your clan too. A shot was fired, your guards are there to guard you and what you represent. They failed and for some reason you don’t think that’s a problem?” He challenged, Joachim looked away. “They didn’t have to engage the ponies, all they had to do was cover you and get you out of immediate danger while covering your retreat. They didn’t. They choked and that’s why I am here right now, giving out to you.” Handy continued “And is that the only reason?” Joachim looked the human in the eye. “No, you’ve been acting a right prat as of late, but I’m a big enough man to gloss some of that over.” He said, Joachim looked hard at the human for a few long moments, Handy didn’t blink. Joachim let out a breath through his nostrils and looked around before returning back to his desk. The silence was broken only by the distant music. “For the sake of our friendship, I’ll admit I have not been the kindest I could be towards you, but I have a kingdom to consider…” He said. Handy nodded. “That’s the primary reason I’ve been tolerating a lot of your behaviour.” Handy said, a bit more calmly. A few seconds passed as Joachim scratched a few more lines in the ledger he was working on. “And thanks.” He said, Joachim stopped and looked up. “I thought you would’ve just pulled rank and prevented the duel altogether, honestly I was shocked you didn’t.” Joachim studied the human’s face for a minute. “I take it, however, you’re still mad at me that I’m not letting you kill him?” “Yes.” “Why?” “My reasons are my own.” Handy replied. “And what’s this swordbearer nonsense you stuck me with? What, am I to stand behind you at ceremonies carrying a big ass claymore?” “Yes actually, but that’s only on certain occasions.” Joachim smiled a bit at Handy’s expression. “It has other advantages, for one thing you’re relieved of most duties of a royal knight.” “How do you mean?” “I mean you no longer have to stand outside a doorway all night. As Swordbearer you literally and figuratively bear the king’s sword, his law.” Joachim said as he continued writing. “It was the first thing to come to mind when I thought to… Well…” “It was painfully obvious to anyone in the know that it was a bribe.” “Well, yes, but it’s one I could give that you might appreciate.” “While I appreciate being exempt to being put on rotas, what exactly DO I do as the king’s Swordbearer?” “Basically, I send you somewhere and you speak with my authority.” Joachim said simply. That caused Handy to blink. “That’s… Rather a lot of responsibility.” Handy said. “Tell me again how I’m going to appreciate this?” “What? You mean asides from the freedom it gives you? Oh not much, I suppose, I thought you might enjoy the greater pay and respect.” “And I suppose doing what you say.” “Handy, you’re a knight, you already do as I ask, most of the time anyway. This is practically no different, just what you do now is more important.” “Surely another knight would make a better Swordbearer. Shortbeak for example?” “She declined, actually.” Joachim said. “Asked her before we left for Canterlot, I was worried you might not like additional duties requiring you to get out more. Personal reasons she stated if you’re curious as to why she declined. Sides, you’re probably more useful overall.” “How so?” “People already think of you in dread, hell the other kings call you my Shadow.” “That’s hardly flattering.” “It was not meant as a compliment, or an insult, you may not be aware but shadows have bad connotations in griffon cultures.” “Is that why I hear griffons in the street curse eachother with shadows?” “Pretty much. Sides, you don’t do much to dissuade your reputation.” “It is kind of fun...” Handy admitted “Which is why I figured to make the best use of it.” Joachim said, dipping his quill in ink. “If you’re going to insist on perpetuating your reputation and I am to put up with it, why not put it to its best use?” “Intimidation?” “Law enforcement.” “Same thing.” Handy waved. “Fine, I’m your swordbearer. Yippee. So what do I do now?” “I have nowhere to send you for now, honestly, I got nothing planned for the next two months other than going to blighted Firthingart for that tourney.” Handy frowned. “Don’t like tournaments?” “Love them. Hate Firthingart, it’s a miserable kingdom.” Joachim said. “If you want something to do with your newfound free time, how about you do something constructive?" "I already have my little distractions." "Then at least show up in court more often. Everygriffon's been on edge because of your little party favour, it'd be good to remind them that you are, in fact, flesh and blood." "Its either leave the brick here or take it with me to Equestria." Handy said. Joachim nodded conceeding the point. "Fine... Look, just show your face more often at least?" Joachim said. "You're making people anxious." "Might just pick up on that.” Handy said. “Don’t think for a moment I am done about your guards though.” He said, Joachim seemed to nod slightly. “I admit, I had a vain hope. Alas.” He said. Joachim then rubbed the temples of his head. “And for goodness sake, will you turn off that brick of yours?” The king asked, referring to the melodious sound echoing through the castle corridors. Handy had explained the expensive brick’s unusual properties to Joachim, when he asked where he had got it Handy simply stated he ‘found’ it rather than go through the tedious prospect of explaining cellular technology to a mythological creature. Ever since they had left, Handy had neglected to take it with him, instead leaving it in a drawer of the room he stayed in the castle. The expensive brick, meanwhile, busied itself with periodically playing music. Loudly. And at odd hours. Handy smiled apologetically as he left and headed to his room. At any given moment over their absence, a servant would pass by and Vivaldi’s four seasons could begin playing. Or perhaps one of the few thematic tracks from some games Handy enjoyed in his previous life. And it was consistent, always long, melodious tunes, rarely anything with lyrics and even if it was, it often appeared to be ‘chanting’, which meant the griffons had just gotten their first introduction to Human plainsong. Handy had put the tracks on there since they helped him study back at school. He suppressed a sigh as he passed by the guards and the wary eyes of servants. After the coronation the griffons had warmed up to him to the point of being annoyingly close and familiar, now, they were taking a cautious approach to him. Not sure what to think about the human, in whose absence mysterious, and at times oddly beautiful music emerged from the room. Given the acoustics of the castle, this disturbed not a few griffons. The song that was playing at that moment was particularly mourneful. Handy rolled his eyes, trying to think about how he was going to explain the fact he had a magic singing brick on his person to the rest of the castle, Joachim was hard enough. Why did he even keep the thing around? Honestly, after this he was never letting it leave his side again. As he rounded the corner he noticed, oddly enough, the door to his room was open and he saw shadows moving from the pale light of the window within. He approached slowly and opened the door wider by a crack. There was a griffon in his room judging by the tail he spied. Leaning in, using the noise of his phone’s audio masking the clink of his armour, he saw the griffon was opening up drawers, searching for the source of the music. He smiled, at least someone in the castle had enough sense to realise that no, in fact, his room was not haunted, there’s clearly some bullshit afoot, causing the music. The griffon drew nearer to the set of drawers where he had placed the brick. It was dark in the room with the curtains still half drawn so he couldn't see the griffon as clearly as he would've liked. As the song ended he lightly rapped his knuckles on the wood of the door. Given he was wearing his gauntlet, this created quite a loud noise. “I take it thou hast a good reason for being in my dorm?” He asked casually. The griffon whirled around with claws at the ready, her blue eyes, framed by purple feathers were wide in alarm as her face was caught in the sliver of light piercing the dark. He blinked. “Shortbeak?” The griffon relaxed her stance a bit, but still had one claw noticeably raised. “Ah… You’re back.” “I believe I am, yes, I am kind of hard to miss. Now, why art thou in my room?” He asked. Knowing full well why she was here, but still miffed at the trespass nonetheless. “I was just…” Shortbeak began, eyeing the drawer she had just been about to open. “Nothing. My mistake, sorry for bothering you.” She said as she moved towards the door beside Handy. He placed his hand on the door. “Not quite yet, my friend.” Handy said with warning. Shortbeak took a few steps back and looked up at the human dangerously. Her wings raised slightly from her sides. “I already said I was sorry for intruding.” She said. Handy, however was troubled by another trespass altogether and this was the first chance he got to speak to Shortbeak alone since the occurrence. “Yet not for thy first sin against me, I should think.” He said, she seemed to bristle at the accusation in his voice. “I have never wronged you before.” “Now we both know that is not true.” He said. “Before I let you go I need to know: Why?” He asked. She didn’t respond as she just looked at him. “Do not play stupid, I demand that much respect from you, tell me the truth. Why did you throw the duel?” He snapped. She continued to look up at him, her eyes darting to one point on his masked face to another, as if trying to read his expression beneath the helm. She shook her head eventually. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You won that duel fairly.” She said, it was Handy’s turn to just stare at the bird. “I hit thee multiple times on the head with my warhammer.” He stated. “A typical knight’s full helm is doubly reinforced to prevent damage to the skull during battle. Head injuries proving particularly dangerous for griffons during flight accidents. I also know, because little birds like to talk, that thou takest particular care with your armour in this regard.” The birds in question being the castle blacksmiths bitching about how she took her armour to private blacksmiths to reinforce, much like he now did. Shortbeak shrugged. “I was out of it, warhammers are designed to be used against armoured foes.” Handy nodded at that. “Granted, but not so dazed thou weren’t up and about, happy as Larry, minutes after being out like a snuffed candle.” Handy accused, Shortbeak’s expression was neutral. “You are not a weak griffon, Shortbeak. There were multiple times in that fight where you should have destroyed me utterly.” “I should think it only honourable and just to allow an opponent to catch his breath.” She said giving a slight smile. He frowned. “I am not referring to thine allowing me to recover after thy aerial assault.” He said, trying not to remember how the gashes he received across his midsection should have hurt a lot more than they did at the time. In truth that should have been his first warning that something was wrong with him, but he tried not to let it bother him. “And more to the point, thou thanked me for your defeat. Why?” “Well it did mean the kingdom wouldn’t have to be under Geoffrey’s rule, didn’t it?” She said, shrugging. “That’s a lot to be thankful for already.” “I am of the mind it was something else entirely.” Handy said. She just shook her head and sighed. "Oh? And what would that be?" She said, smirking. Handy was silent, not prepared to admit to all he discovered in Geoffrey's room, most of which had been destroyed by Joachim anyway. Especially not when all he found was a note from a tyrant about how difficult it was to find anything on this bird in the first place and a cryptic note that he eventually found something. It was literally less than nothing, but he pieced it together to mean that she benefited personally from Geoffrey losing the throne, and had thus thrown the fight. However, he wanted to hear her admit it for his own pride, so he could challenge the bird again, for a proper fight. “I honestly don’t know what to tell you, Handy.” She said smiling when the human didn't respond. “We fought, you won and there were even witnesses. I do not know where you got this idea from, but you did win fair and square, can’t you just be happy with that?” She said as she walked past him. Reluctantly he let go of the door looking over his shoulder at the parting griffon. “Sorry again about intruding, but really, you got issues.” She said lightly. Handy clenched his fist as she walked off down the corridor. ‘I know for a fact you’re a lot more grateful for Geoffrey’s downfall then just the sake of the kingdom.’ He closed the door and reached down his mail, pulling out Chrysalis’ spycam. It wasn’t glowing and hadn’t felt warm for hours. “You, meanwhile, have seen quite enough I should think.” He yanked off the chain around his neck and placed it in his pack, not trusting to leave it in the drawers of his room. --=-- The next week had passed largely without incident, thankfully. Except for the training session with Sir Tanismore who was a mite vengeful with Handy for the little debacle at Canterlot. In truth, Handy had been trying his best to get to train with Shortbeak. If he could not get her to admit to him what they both knew to be the truth of the matter, he could at least get some satisfaction that way. Fighting her on even ground without worry of outside pressures affecting the fight. Nope, neither feather nor hide of the good Dame was to be seen about the barracks or training fields in the eastern courtyards of the castle. “Heads up human!” Tanismore had shouted, Handy turned and brought his shield up just in time to block a two legged buck from the flying Griffon. His footing had been awkward, and the blow came as a surprise, Tanismore had put his full half armoured weight into it and it knock Handy backwards. He struggled to re-find his footing, felt himself falling and eventually ducked into a ball and rolled to get back to his feet. Handy was only wearing his mail along with his jeans and some padding on his shoulders, arms and chest. Tanismore, similarly, was lightly armoured. “Tanis.” Handy said by way of greeting, still not entirely pleased with his fellow knight. “Still sore?” He said smiling. Tanismore scowled, the white headed griffon was normally gregarious as he was short tempered. He had warmed up to the human over the course of his stay here, which meant he was still quite upset about the little issue of the concussion he was given. “That was still uncalled for, couldn’t you take the joke?” He said, stalking over to the training circle, marked out in wood amongst the stone of the courtyard, bleached white after years exposed to sunlight . The courtyard was one of many that hung off the sides of the castle, giving a breathtaking vista of the surrounding countryside and the city below them if one cared to look. “I was having a bad day, Tanis.” Handy said, following the griffon to the ring. “I met a flying snake dragon goat thing that turned my cloak pink and discovered the princesses really do move the sun and moon. I was a little short on patience that night.” Tanismore just laughed as Handy entered the ring. Handy frowned. “I forgot you still didn’t believe that. Even after everygriffon told you as much.” “Give me a break, we don’t have magic back home. How was I supposed to believe that?” Handy said, his airs slipping in the early morning. Tanismore made the first move which was fine for Handy. He went for a quick killing lunge, a common tactic among the knights, he found. He ducked under the blow and then suddenly launched himself upwards into the griffon’s underside, knocking his balance askew before his wings could correct their glide to a flap and Handy tossed the griffon over the ring with his own momentum. “Round one to me I should think.” Tanismore coughed as he brushed himself down, getting back into the ring as Handy backed off to the other side. “Speaking of princesses, what was her plotness speaking to you about?” Tanismore asked. “Plotness?” Handy asked, confused. Tanismore chuckled. “Celestia is rather famous for her large rear.” Tanismore said, drawing a sword and swiping at Handy, Handy blocked it with his shield, Tanismore flapped his wings to lend his leap more momentum as he twisted around to kick out at Handy. He took the blow in the shoulder before his hammer arm could come up. Instead opting to use his body’s newfound momentum to bring his right arm around with the shield and catch Tanismore in the chest. Forcing him to back off. Handy much preferred using his right hand for his hammer, but he felt like challenging himself today. “Ah, right.” Handy said, ’Moving right along…’ “Her highness was doing some mind game nonsense, trying to manipulate me.” “Oh?” Tanismore said, smiling. Handy frowned. ’God damn horndog.’ “Get thine mind out of the gutters, she was trying to get me to work for Equestria.” He said, parrying a blow from Tanismore’s sword with his hammer. “And what was she offering?” “Re-” Handy stopped himself, trying to think of the best way to explain it. “Aid for a condition I have. Aid for which I knew would be nothing of the sort.” “Uh huh.” Tanismore said, lunging again, leaving himself open. Handy punished the foolish move with a jab of his knee into the side of Tanismore’s chest. Tanismore responded by smacking Handy upside the head with his wing, dazing the human and forcing him back another step. “That’s when that dragon thing appeared through the floor.” Handy said. “Turned me pink and left in a cloud of goat headed butterflies.” “Ohhhh!” Tanismore said in understanding, circling the human again. “That’s Discord, yeah, some bigshot spirit of chaos or something. I don’t know, he was mostly just myth and legend here in Griffonia.” “Spirit of Chaos?” Handy asked, watching the griffon’s movements. ’If he approaches slowly I might have a problem, but it’s unlike Tanismore to think outside the box, he’ll rush me like he always does.’ He thought as Tanismore began to slowly close on the human. ’Bollocks.’ “Yeah.” Tanismore said smilingly, gripping his sword in both claws, his wings spread out, prepared to launch. The Shadow of the castle was enough that Handy’s mail wouldn’t shine, it’d be unfair on his opponents considering it was only training. “Apparantly the princesses use to fight him when he ruled Equestria a thousand years ago or something like that. Now he’s like, I dunno, a pet or something?” “Why does that sound familiar…” Handy muttered bitterly, circling away from the griffon, his shield raised. “All I know is he can snap his fingers and make it rain chocolate milk, or rip the land apart, or make you go crasy. Nonsense like that.” Tanismore continued, Handy boggled. “And the ponies have the nerve to call me a monster when they have something like that at their beck and ca-” Handy didn’t get to finish. Tanismore took full advantage of the human’s momentary lapse in concentration and swipe him from his feet with a powerful lash of the tail before colliding bodily with the human, throwing him from the ring. “Best two out of three?” Tanismore asked, smiling. Handy spat some dust out of his mouth as he got back to his feet. “Lets.” Handy agreed, stepping back into the ring. The two traded blows for another half hour, Tanismore kept on trying to distract Handy with his quips, to which Handy made sure not to fall for again. The art of conversation, as it were, had a place on the battlefield as far as Tanismore was concerned. Handy had to admit, he liked the griffon, he was still an incorrigible ne’erdowell but he was the loveable sort. “Tell me this.” Tansimore said smiling, dodging another swing of the hammer. “What did you do to the poor filly?” “Excuse me?” “I was talking to the king on the flight over when we stopped for the night. Said something about you terribly embarrassing the girl.” Tanismore said smiling. ’Nope, not falling for it.’ Handy thought as he brought his shield up to block a kick and swung his hammer around to dissuade another attack. ’Not going to get me to react to this one.’ “A gentleman never tells, thou should knowest this, Tanis.” He said, ducking under the bird’s wing as he turned from a missed blow. “You are far from gentle, and no I wouldn’t.” Tanis said smiling, whirling around only to find Handy seemed to have disappeared. His head snapped left and then right, only to be met with Handy’s shield. The dazed griffon staggered before Handy swept low with his hammer, knocking him off his feet and outside the ring’s boundaries. “You’re right on both those counts I suppose.” The human said, smirking. --=-- Crimson shade’s ear flicked in irritation. She had been sitting in the office for most of the week, trying to find something to do. The human’s instructions left her with a surprising degree of freedom. Normally when she was left to her own devices it was when mistress had sent her on expeditions to find rare materials or to procure artefacts, in which case she’d do whatever was necessary to keep herself fed and sheltered. All other times she was back in her small room until she was called to do something. She used to do something to keep herself amused but she can’t seem to… Remember what that was. Right now however, this? This was different. She had been left with a large room at the guildhall. So large she didn’t even know what to do with it. There was a writing desk, several chairs, and innumerable ledgers with various details concerning membership dues, costs and expenditures, profits made from alchemical sales. Those were kept in wooden cabinets and were generally disorderly and messily arranged. She supposed she could sort that out? She shook her head and blew a lock of her mane out of her face. She had no idea what she was doing, honestly, alchemy wasn’t her forte. Her eye twitched and she turned to look at her flank. Her cutie mark was an orange flame whose outline was separated from the image and a little off to the side. She remembers being very proud when she had gained it. Pity she couldn’t remember what it was actually for. She scrunched up her muzzle as she turned away, trying to put the thought out of her head. Mistress didn’t need her for her mark anyway, she needed her for the magic she could use. Her horn lit up with red energy as she levitated her saddlebags over to her, opening a flap she lifted out a weather beaten book. It was simple to look at, black leather bound as it was. Clearly not pony in origin, unless the ponies in question had no qualms about such practices back then. She didn’t know, nor did she care. Opening it she once more gazed over the familiar flowing script, long, elegant lines flowed in an exotic calligraphy that seemed to cover an entire page with but one, lone, word. Crimson knew better, within each stroke lay more such script, lines within lines, words within words and the power lay within understanding. One could speak the spell one sees on the page, but it may be entirely different then what one could muster by understanding the true depth of the magic. She cast a spell with her magic, enhancing her vision as she read the page. Her eyes followed the bend, the spell the overall image invoked was one she had used to summon forth the ghouls. It was a simple enough spell, using the spiritual after images and imprints ponies left upon the ethereal reality that surrounded them all. Summoning forth the shades, pushing through the barrier of the world to do her bidding. It proved useful whenever she needed raw strength to aid her on her journeys, but looking at the spell now, reading between its lines to the true words of power winding and cavorting within its form, she saw it could go much further than that. Biting her lip she flicked through a number of pages, coming upon a page with several smaller spells, both in form and function. One such spell she knew could be used in addition to a circle to communicate directly with her mistress. She placed her hoof on the page of the book as it lay on the table before her, she glanced over to the window, at the city below her. She watched idly for some time, the small boats sailing along the river bisecting the city, the shrill cry of the train she was all too familiar with as it left the station on its journey through the griffon kingdoms, the dark form of a small airship as it hung lazily in the sky. It was good here, peaceful, warm, quiet. She found herself smiling lightly but quickly quashed it, and looked down at the page once more. She should really contact her, it’s not right, she should not have left her mistress like that. It was wrong. She furrowed her brow, rubbing the side of her neck with a hoof. ’But she’d be so angry at me, especially if I came back after leaving…’ She studied the page for a short while more before closing it over. ’…No. I don’t have to go back… Not anymore…” She thought to herself, staring at the book for a long while more before replacing it in her saddlebags. Once more gazing around at the room. ’But… What do I d-‘ Her thoughts were soon interrupted by a quick popping sound and a burst of black smoke flowing under the door to her office, followed by a succession of coughs and some high pitched squawking. Her eye twitched. ’Oh… Right… That…’ She jumped down from her chair and trotted over to the door to open it. The hallway was the usual mess it had been since she arrived there and had to carefully tip-hoof around random spills, broken glass, burn marks and some alchemical circles one of the birds had drawn while drunk, where the wall met the floor. She hoofed open a door to reveal a rather tiny griffon pushing down on a bucket that another griffon was currently busy trying to pry his head from. “I TOLD YOU THAT IT WAS TOO MUCH POMERANDR!” The tiny griffon shrieked. “NOW LOOK AT ME! I’LL BE STUCK LIKE THIS ALL DAY!” “MMFLH MMFHLF!” “LIES!” “Ahem.” Crimson said, her eyes half lidded in a very unamused expression, she may have respect for master, but these griffons in particular? No. Not so much. The tiny griffon flapped his wings as he turned to regard the pony. “Oh… Uh, Hi Crimson!” He said, smiling at her. Crimson blinked slowly as she turned to regard the ruination that was the alchemy table, its wooden frame was broken, parts of it were on fire, which burned green, and there was glass and metal wiring strewn about the floor. Yep, that was another set that’d need to be replaced. She frowned, how in Tartarus did master expect her to run this place? That’s when it hit her and a smile slowly began to form on her face as she remembered. Whenever she had been given freedom, it was because she had been set a task, she’d do whatever was necessary to accomplish it. She was told to keep these griffons out of trouble and prevent the guildhouse from going on fire. Well then. Her horn lit up as she lifted the bucket off of the griffon’s head, he mouthed a thanks to her but the smile on his face faded at the expression on hers. “First off.” She said. “We’re a bit behind on sales, now, we need a new alchemy set. We have a bucket.” She said indicating the floating object, the two griffons looked at her. “You’re going to use this bucket to pay for the replacement, otherwise I’m afraid I’ll have to take it out of the two of you in extra dues.” She continued, remembering the ledgers from before, the two griffons cringed. “But…” The previously bucketed Griffon spoke up. “How are we going to use the bucket to pay for the set?” She smiled brightly. “I’m glad you asked.” She said, something about her tone told the two griffons that, very soon, they will not be nearly as glad that they did. --=-- “This is a waste of time, out!” Johan shouted, the bird thoroughly annoyed. The last plea had been an utter farce involving a pony trader, two nobles, a cart of radishes, an expensive vase and a minotaur’s undergarments. Funny, but ultimate not worth the king’s time as he dismissed the matter out of claw. Handy smiled. He was standing to the king’s right and a bit behind the throne as Joachim held court in the plea hall, figuring he might as well follow his king’s advice to show his face a bit more often in court. They were gathered in a small room with cloisters along the wall and an obscenely tall roof far above them, from which little light pierced the thick windows so far above. It was generally unpleasant to be in the room, but he supposed that was probably intentional, some predecessor of Joachim’s probably deciding the room be built in such a manner to make pleaders uncomfortable and hurry up with their business. That little diversion aside, however, Handy was bored to tears. He almost wished he hadn’t blown off Klipwing that day, the bird was going through the trouble of managing his properties so he didn’t have to. Nope, that morning Handy decided to show up in court like Joachim had suggested, that surely would be less boring wouldn’t it? ’Hahahahaha, fuck you Handy.’ He thought bitterly to himself. The dejected tradespony left the room as another griffon waltz right in, garishly coloured with red feathers and a lime green pelt. Handy blinked rapidly, not used to such colours on a griffon and briefly thought it was an oversized pony in a griffon outfit. The griffon bowed. “Your majesty, honourable king Johan the Blackwing, may your reign be long and prosperous…” The griffon began, his foppish hat, by some cruelty of the universe, stayed on his head, despite him having bowed over totally. “I come on behalf of Count Greybeard, of the Duchy of Farlkirk.” The messenger began, a scroll clasped in one claw. Joachim nodded recognition to the griffon. “And what does the good count seek of me? Surely he is better served petitioning his duke.” Joachim said, clearly bored but trying to put on a brave face. “It is precisely because of the duke that he seeks your intervention.” The bird said, head always slightly bowed in deference. Well now this was a bit more interesting, Joachim sat up straighter and almost didn’t let out a sigh. “Duke Karl? What is the matter with him?” Joachim asked. “Count Henri the Talonstrike of Ifrendare, has been accusing Duke Karl of Necromancy and all sorts of devilry.” The red griffon replied, Joachim’s eyebrows rose at that. “The accusations are spurious, of course, but as you know your highness, all some griffons need is just the pretence it offers them…” The griffon let the silence hang, causing Joachim to clear his throat. “And what pretences are these?” He asked. The griffon smiled, Handy shifted in his armour, only he and four other courtiers were around the throne during the meeting, but even so, it was crampt. “Duke Karl is young, his family has not been nobility for long, many would rather see themselves on the throne, and if they could find a way to justify his removal they would likely seize upon it.” He explained, Joachim looked nonplussed. Handy could understand why, this was the first anyone in the court heard mention of anything like this. If there was one thing Handy learned as a hard and fast fact about this world it’s that rumours spread like wildfire. The fact that something as big as a Griffon being accused of necromancy hadn’t made the castle scuttlebutt, leant Joachim to be a tad sceptical of the claim. Handy’s interest, on the other hand, was piqued. The last griffon he knew that had sorcery possessed a book relevant to his interests, one he was planning on giving to Crimson when the time came in order to learn what the hell was in it, with the fragile hope she may discover something new with it that might get him back home. Perhaps, if there was anything to these rumours, he might be able to obtain more such magic? It was fragile logic, but it was something. Admittedly he knew as much about magic as he did about high level mathematics, however Crimson made it sound as if using other kinds of magic would not work, or at least, it’s how it came off to Handy. Who was he to argue? She was a unicorn, not like he knew better. “Count Henri is a drunkard and a wastrel, his accusations will cause more harm than good and must be put to a stop. Please for the good of the duchy and the kingdom at large, my lord humbly implores thy intervention.” The bird finished by bowing once more. Joachim sighed and rubbed his forehead, clearly not convinced this was something he should be concerned about in the slightest. “You might want to nip this one in the bud.” He whispered as he leant down to the seated Joachim. He inclined his head over. “Really? Greybeard is clearly just trying to use the crown to embarrass a rival before his duke…” Joachim said. Eyes not leaving the prattling noblegriffon before him. Handy conceded the point. “Aye.” Handy whispered. “But still, this would be an opportunity to strengthen your own authority. You’re still a new king. Even if nothing comes of it, people will know you care about the affairs of your subjects.” “You say that as if I don’t.” “I meant nothing by it, only that perception matters. Sides, so what if he uses this to take advantage of his fellow count at court?” Handy asked, he saw the griffon’s brow furrowing. “I take it you want to be sent on this one?” He asked. Handy shrugged, his armour clinking at the movement. “It’d be good for a lark. Sides, what if he really is a necromancer?” He asked. Joachim failed to suppress a snort. “What are you going to do if he is? Rush in there head on and just take the magic on the chin?” He said. Handy smiled beneath his helm. “If I had to.” Handy said, realising Joachim had not witnessed his armour’s magical resistance. ’It’s worked for me so far.’ --=-- Handy really hated travelling these days. Think about it. Never mind not having any motor vehicles and it basically being the Middle Ages. Or renaissance, or whatever epoch this world was currently undergoing, the presence of magical crystal powered medical facilities, steam engines and indoor plumbing kinda blurred a lot of lines. It also meant, however, he had to walk everywhere. Why? Because it is not as if he could get a horse to ride everywhere now could he? He groaned internally when he recalled bragging about humanity’s awesome skills regarding the activity back at Canterlot, sure it was true enough, doesn’t mean they liked doing it if it could be circumvented. It was even worse having to do so in armour. Unfortunately the nearest train capable of taking him to his destination was already more than a day’s travel from Skymount so he had to suffer through it, amongst other things. 'I need to find a better way of getting around, stupid griffons and their stupid wings making this shit seem easy.' He thought to himself. They two of them had been traveling for the better part of the day, the train station in Skymount serviced the Equestrian express and its railway nigh exclusively, the nearest transport they could use to get to the duchy in question lay over a day’s travel to the south, around the southern twin peak of the city. Handy groaned. “So I’ve been thinking…” His companion piped up. Handy shook his head in exasperation. ’Here we go…’ He thought. Tanismore was a good griffon, might make a decent knight someday, but dear God he never shut up. “You know Celebra? Young lass, golden coat?” He asked, referring to the newly minted knight to join their ranks. “I am aware of her existence, yes.” He replied, cresting the rise, some old stone steps placed along the ancient walkway through the overgrown fields surrounding them, looking back, skymount could barely be seen, only mountains and pine forest. He knew which mountain he’d need to look for, but still couldn’t see the castle as his view was blocked by its twin mountain. “Think I got a shot? I mean, normally I wouldn’t need any help, but she seems a cold one, might be a tough nut to crack.” “Hast thou tried talking to her?” Handy offered, checking the map he had been giving, the glare off of his gauntlets was annoying so he turned to get his armour out of the sunlight, unfortunately this made him face Tanismore. “What? Oh, oh uh, yeah! Yeah Psshaw, of course I have!” Tanismore said, leaning on his shield, Handy looked up at him in annoyance. He really couldn’t give less of a damn about Tanismore’s problems if he tried, but he was stuck with him. Protocol demanded the Swordbearer have an escort when on duty, and when none of the guards seemed keen to volunteer their services, Tanismore stepped up to the plate. “She’s just uh… Not very talkative.” Handy sighed. “Look, lets just go. We have several more miles to travel before we reach the train.” Handy said. Tanismore followed after the human but, unfortunately, did not stop his prattling. “Look I was thinking, when we got back, maybe you could help me?” He said. Handy resisted a groan. “Help how?” He said, looking ahead as the pair walked down an incline towards a small village. “Well there’s a feast coming up and I was thinking you could help me out, you know, distract whoever she’s talking to so I can get a chance with her.” Handy stopped in his tracks and turned to regard the griffon behind him. “Are you serious?” He asked. “What?” Tanismore shrugged. “Nobody else? You’re asking me, of all people, to be your wingman?” He asked, incredulity present on his voice. “Pssht, no of course not!” Tanismore said, his yellow beak wide in a grin. Handy’s stare of disapproval was unrelenting. “I’m asking you to be my winggriffon.” Handy’s shoulders just sagged as he turned around and continued walking. The pair of them continued down into the village. Handy intended to ask for directions or perhaps lodgings for the night, not keen on the prospect of sleeping rough. Only to be met with people rushing off into their homes, up into the nearest clouds or behind buildings. The few brave souls who remained out in the open generally stuck behind stalls or close to the local blacksmith. They smiled nervously at the pair of them. “Hey what gives?” Tanis said, his armour clinking as he moved. Handy shook his head, eyeing the strange objects that were hung upon the doorways and arches of the homes they passed. Strange little knick-knacks made out of bundled twigs and colourful pebbles. He knew enough countryside lore from back home to recognise a fetish when he saw one. A charm to ward off evil and bad luck. “Nevermind Tanis.” He said, turning to once more look at the few griffons who stayed out. “Lets not bother these good people any longer.” He said, moving forward. Tanismore scratched his head before following after Handy. He thought deeply as they walked on, in Skymount it had been fun cultivating his image, but the griffons there had gotten used to the idea of him, here? That was not the case. He wondered how this would affect him in Ifrendare, perhaps he had been taking this game of his a little too far? He considered the matter as Tanismore continued his nonsense, they still had quite a while to go before the station and it looked like they’d have to set up a small camp before moving on. --=-- He was sitting on a rock, fuming. That was the twenty third match he fumbled with so far. Tanismore was no addition to him and he’d be damned if he asked him for help anyway. Currently the bird was off relieving himself, and left Handy to his own devices in terms of getting the campfire going. It wasn’t too hard, in theory, he had a small bundle of sticks and twigs he had dried out and prepared to light and place beneath a larger collection of wood. He sighed and looked up at the stars. It was good to be out of the city for once and not have to worry about ponies. He smirked, to think his opinion on an entire species could change so completely, but there he had it. The little equines had, effectively, ruined his life. And those arrogant princesses had the gall to try to apologize to him with bribes of potions to quench his ungodly thirst. He looked back down at the work he had failed to accomplish as he ruminated. There was a light wind, but thankfully no rain that night. So perhaps they could have a nice fire to sleep next to. Nope, Handy looked at his gauntlets, unbuckling the straps and pulling them off. In truth he was a tad concerned, thinking back he had paid at least a little attention to the lecture Twilight had given him on thestrals back when he was pulling his little prank. He did not like the conclusions he was drawing from it. So far he discovered he could not gain the power boost from animals, thestrals could. He could heal his wounds by drinking vital essence, they could not. They only got serious urges had they not fed in over two weeks, Handy could not go a week without becoming antsy, he could hear someone’s pulse at a distance, they, alledgedly, could not. What else was different between the two? They were the closest reference to whatever he had become and they were already making a poor one. At the least, he considered, he didn’t have to hide from the sunlight. He pulled out another match, a Lucifer for the pipe that he had yet to use, it’d do the trick. In truth it wasn’t all bad, he supposed, at least it didn’t come with all the numerous downsides vampirism could’ve come with. Or so he had thought. He struck the match, but his finger slipped, dropping the Lucifer. The flame nicked the knuckle of his left hand and it was then, eyes widened in horror and a shrill, inhuman shriek left his lungs his hand recoiled in immense pain as his skin caught alight in a brilliant flash of flame. He scrambled off his rock and rubbed his hand desperately in the dirt of the ground, suffocating the fire. Shakingly, he sat himself up on his elbow and raised his left hand to his face. It was burned terribly and stung with pain. Handy’s mind reeled, trying to rationalize what had just happened. ‘I need to heal this.’ He thought, as his good hand scrambled for his travel pack, the small one he had used in Equestria. He pulled out enchanted capsule after capsule, most of which were emptied by now, leaving only two remaining with any fluid left in them. He quickly, uncovered both and downed the two of them and watched in morbid fascination as his pain eased and the skin of his left hand healed over itself. It was surreal to watch, what was even stranger is that he did not feel his skin move as he watched it reshape itself, only the absence of pain as it did so. Once his hand was done, all that was left of his little accident was a small, black pinprick on the knuckle of his left index finger. “Ho-” “What is it!?” The bushes rustled as a distressed looking Tanismore, his armour askew and his sword drawn. “What was that noise!?” He said, head snapping back and forth. “A bird, I think.” Handy said quickly, realizing it had been him who had caused the noise. He didn’t want to think how his vocal cords could have caused such sound. “Startled the hell out of me,” He continued. “A bird?” Tanismore said, eyes wide and regarding Handy with disbelief. “I never heard a bird like that before…” “Well then you tell me what it was, this is your native land, is it not?” Handy said. “I saw what I saw, swooped down as I was trying to light the fire…” He continued, setting himself upright on his rock and taking off his helmet. Tanismore lowered his sword and looked out at the night sky. As if trying to find the bird Handy had referred to while he reaffixed his gauntlets. “Anyway, I’m out of matches, you have a go lighting the fire.” He said. “What? But I wasn’t-” “You’re here now, get cracking, I’m turning in early.” Handy said. Walking over to the bed roll. Tanismore looked down dejectedly at the fire and got to work, rubbing a stick to get it lit. Handy, discretely pushed his bedroll and extra foot away from the fire as Tanismore managed to get it going. He lay in his armour, making sure to face the fire as thoughts raced in his mind. Being ignorant was no fun, especially in situations like this, the closest thing to whatever the hell Handy was were the Thestrals and he already learned he couldn't use the night ponies as a reference so that meant life was an unpleasantly exciting experiment. Today's lesson? Fire was the fucking devil. Additionally Handy learned that his healing factor isn't perfect. Much like the Salamander salve which he kept on hand, blood healing didn't go the whole way and didn't cover over scars after a certain period. So his little gift from Hectoir was still present, as were the ones he received from Shortbeak. However this also meant the wound he received from Geoffrey, while healed, still left a small scar. Meaning as useful as the ability was, it had a tiny window if Handy wanted to avoid disfigurement. Handy clenched his jaw as he stared spitefully at the fire as Tanismore got into his own roll, he considered how close he had come to fire ever since he was turned, unaware of how dangerous it was for him in particular. It was not a happy thought. Eventually he turned over, to face away from the fire. --=-- Handy discovered much in the town of Ifrendare, in the rather small county bearing its name. Firstly that while the town is known for alot of things, sobriety was not one of them. "Me toora loora la, me toora loora laddie~" Secondly, he was now the proud author of Griffonia's newest, most popular tavern song. Slightly plagiarized. Which might help explain why his reputation had taken on a completely different character in this part of Gethrenia. You see, rumours are funny things and can get twisted easily. One moment, you're Count Dracula, the next you're Jack Churchill. Where one person heard 'shadowy blood sucker who kills on the orders of the king' another hears 'Dragon slayer who kicks royal pony guard flank and drinks like a fish.' The fact that there were elements of truth in basically all of the rumours only made things harder for the beleaguered human who was practically swamped as soon as he disembarked from the train. He found himself missing the respectful superstition of the villagers. “Hey, I think they like you!” Tanismore chuckled as the pair of them struggled through the curious crowd of griffons towards the town. The train ride there had been boring, but peaceful as Tanismore spent most of the time talking some other griffons’ ears off instead of his. A few griffons had been curious about Handy, something he was surprised at, considering most of them seemed to have genuine smiles on their faces. “I didn’t like it when ponies crowded around me, I don’t think I like it when griffons do it.” He muttered by way of response, pushing off several curious young griffons who had alighted on his shoulders and where busy poking at his helmet. “And do they really need to sing that song now? It’s the middle of the day.” He said, referring to the filled up taverns and inns. Ifrendare was a fairly large town at the base of a wide valley basin, several roads leaving it to cross the surrounding hills. Its colourful buildings were mismatched in terms of style, with the architecture changing and seeming to become older, more convoluted as he neared the town centre. One could easily trace the town’s history from the outer settlement outside the town’s large walls to the keep if one cared too. Other than that there was nothing spectacular about it. Well except for the ten storey Ivory tower in the western quarter capped with a golden dome that shone like a blazing torch during the day. As interesting as that was, he didn’t come here to sight see. What he had come to see was the Count. The griffons of the town were a friendly bunch, he’d give them that, offering to buy him drinks and asking him to sing Captain Kelly’s kitchen for them, but he didn’t like friendly and ended up politely declining their advances. It was passing through the gates he noticed the guards of the town, lightly armoured even by griffon standards and bearing saffron scarfs, seemed to be on edge. Initially he thought it was because he happened to be in town, but as he passed through the marketplace it soon became obvious he wasn’t the only unscheduled guest to arrive in town. Duke Karl happened to be in Ifrendare, presumably to face the Count’s spurious accusations head on. Honestly, that made Handy’s job easier because the duke was next on his list of things to do after he had his talk with the count, now he can kill two birds with one stone. Figuratively speaking of course. The presence of noticeably heavier armoured griffons in sapphire blue cloaks caused his hand to reach unconsciously to his hammer. The birds turned to regard the human as he neared the steps to the drawbridge of the keep. Their armour was intricate and segmented, their full faced helms crested by yellow and red feathered plumes and each of them wielded glaives. Knights, Handy reckoned, either that or Duke Karl takes his guard much more seriously than anyone else Handy had yet met. The blue cloaked knights, about nine in all were intermixed with yellow scarfed Ifrendare guards gathered about the front of the steps. The lead knight, wearing a bladed helmet had been preoccupied with yelling the ears off of some poor, beleaguered guard who looked too small for his armour. He pushed his way to the head of the group and spread his wings to stop the human. “Ah so this is the Nightbane.” He said mockingly, looking the human up and down. “Thought you’d be taller.” Handy looked down at the griffon, nonplussed. “What business do you have here?” He challenged. Tanismore caught up with Handy, having been distracted by a stall in the marketplace from before. “My business is with the count of Ifrendare.” Handy said cautiously. “Stand aside.” Another bluecloak gave a short bark of laughter. Tanismore frowned, placing down the beak mask of his helm to cover his face. “Sorry, ape, but the count is busy talking with his lord.” The knight said, Handy bristled. ‘Ok nameless mc fuckwad, welcome to the list.’ He thought. “That’s fine, I have business with the Duke as well, it would be good to catch the two of them at once. That way I don’t waste my time any more than I have with thine over compensating strutting.” He said, the knight’s wings spread an inch wider, the blades on the primaries catching the light. “You’re not getting anywhere near the duke you cocky whelp. Now turn around before we ruin you, you have no business here.” The knight said with warning. “Ruin me?” Handy said. His reason, finally being awake at the wheel for once, put the kibosh on his pride and anger rising to get him into more trouble than he could handle. Again. “Hmm, I should think not.” He said at last, reaching into his cloak for his pack. The other knights suddenly moved to ready their glaives, the Ifrendare guards, similarly clutched their spears, alarmed at the sudden movement of the knights. Handy withdraw a scroll, clutching the parchment end, he let its weighted end roll down, revealing the king’s crest and a letter of office. “I am here as King Johan Blackwing’s Swordbearer to execute his law. I am charged to investigate the dispute that doubtlessly thine duke and the good count are at odds over. Unless thou art prepared to strike against the king himself, I would advise thee to shut up and stand aside.” Handy said, looking pointedly at the lead knight. “Bird.”