Celestia
The remainder of my opening talk with Emperor Serath is, to be honest, of little note and a somewhat personal. We swap some stories, tell jokes, and generally indulge in a small period free from court protocols. It’s not the most exciting thing in the world, but it makes for a nice, if temporary, distraction from the more serious affairs of state ahead. Naturally, such a pleasant time flies by faster than an alicorn on stimulants.
Soon enough, a servant arrives to inform us that my welcoming repast is ready, and to kindly request our presence.
“You realize, of course,” I tell the Emperor as we make our way to one of the Ostflugel aerie dining rooms. “That just because we may enjoy each other’s company for a brief while does not mean I will favor your side in negotiations.”
“Hmph,” he chuckles cynically. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Wouldn’t have asked you here if I thought you would. There’s no honor in a victory won through cheating.”
I don’t believe that honor is as important as he thinks. In my opinion, preventing a war is infinitely more important than quaint notions of personal moral purity, but I stay my tongue. No sense antagonizing the Emperor when we’ve gotten off on the right hoof.
Eventually, we come to the double doors leading to the dining chambers my hosts have chosen to use. I don’t believe I’ve actually been in these before, which is somewhat novel for me after I the time I’ve spent in just about every sufficiently fancy restaurant, feast hall, or assorted places to eat in Equestria. The doors open to the sound of somepony very loud reading off the very long lists of titles in our combined possession.
A warm, salty breeze hits my face, blasting away the cool mountain air. The dining room takes the form of a large cavern carved into the mountainside by what must have been hundreds or even thousands of gryphon stonemasons. There are five lengthy wooden tables spread out across the room. Half a dozen enormous holes in the stone wall serve as both windows and exterior entranceways for the assorted gryphons coming to land here. The “windows” face the ocean, which looks absolutely lovely this time of evening. It will be time to set the sun soon, and I find myself wondering what the view from this place would look like at dawn with my star peaking just over the horizon. Perhaps I shall have to indulge that curiosity if I should find the time.
We sit down, Emperor Serath at the place of honor at the head of the central and I, as honored guest, get the chair on his right claw. Across from me sits a middle-aged gryphon with golden fur, grey feathers, and a handsome red jacket indicative of his position. Unlike the Emperor, this is my first time meeting this particular gryphon face-to-face. I’ve read about him, but even that doesn’t amount to much in this case.
I review what I know about the current Speaker of the Gyphus Imperial Senate, Etton of Northwind Province. A previously undistinguished Senator for five years, he made little fuss about anything and declined to draw much attention to himself during his short career. It was therefore something of a surprise when his predecessor nominated him for the position of Speaker before retiring, and even more so when the Imperial Senate voted to confirm him. To obtain such high rank with such an ordinary background, he must either possess considerable skills at backroom dealing – and be good enough to cover his tracks from my agents – or he’s merely a front man for somepony else.
Either way, he’s currently one of the most high-ranking members of the Gryphus Empire, and his cooperation, or lack of it, could have a major impact on negotiations. It’s important that we get along, or at least establish a reasonable degree of trust.
I size the Speaker up personally as the first course is being served around us. A light soup and salad combination, with what I recognize as chicken in the gryphons’ bowl, though mercifully not in mine. I know I shouldn’t disdain the gryphons for eating meats, as until very recent advances in dietary supplements it wasn’t even biologically possible for them to stay healthy without doing so, but I’m still a pony and an herbivore. Seeing living creatures consume other living creatures makes me a tad nauseous.
Thankfully, I am a princess and if there’s one thing I’ve gotten good at over all my years of politicking, it’s concealing inconvenient feelings. I extend my hoof across the table to the Speaker and put a smile on my face. He gives me a slow up and down with his golden eyes before taking my hoof in a talon and lightly shaking it.
“Hello, I am-”
He cuts me off. “Princess Celestia of Equestria, I am aware. You could hardly be mistaken for anyone else.”
It’s a bit rude to interrupt your guest, but it gives me more of a sense of his personality, so I don’t mind so much. “And you would be Speaker Etton of the Imperial Senate, would you not?” I ask in a polite tone.
“Hmmm?” he looks up from the bowl of soup he has just taken a spoonful of. “Oh. Yes, that would be me. Congratulations on figuring it out.”
My smile fades somewhat. This is certainly different from the normal breed of supplicating politician I’m used to dealing with, and it clashes with what my agents reported on his previously non-confrontational demeanor.
“Well,” I continue, ignoring the impoliteness of his response, “I simply wished to say that I am honored and pleased to meet you at last, and to offer my congratulations on your recent appointment.”
“Pity I can’t say the same about you,” he replies in between a mouthful of salad.
I frown slightly. “Pardon?”
He swallows another forkful of salad before responding to me. “Do I really need to elaborate on it? You are here to “mediate” talks between the Empire and another nation.”
“Yes. And your issue with that would be…”
He rolls his eyes and touches up his beak with a napkin. “You are a pony. You rule a nation of ponies. You, as you have put it in your speeches, love all your little ponies. The Prench, whatever else they may be, are ponies. We,” he points to himself, the Emperor, and then gestures to the other tables. “Are not. That you will be biased against us from the start is a given. You should not be here.”
Very blunt, very uncharacteristic of most politicians. “I assure you, Speaker, that my neutrality in these matters a matter of public record and-”
“I don’t believe you,” he interrupts again. “You and yours think my kind disgusting, barbarian meat-eaters. I have been around enough of your kind to know that much of you. How can we expect impartial mediation and oversight from a ruler of a land with such an attitude? I argued against inviting you from the start, but his majesty,” he inclines his head towards the Emperor. “Saw fit to ignore my council, and the Senate agreed. Nonetheless, my opinion towards you remains the same. I believe his majesty and my fellow Senators have made a mistake in trusting your judgment.”
“Very to the point, Speaker.”
He shrugs. “I see no reason to dance around it. If half the things I’ve heard of you are true you could pull the information directly from my mind regardless.”
Not without time and proper restraints, not to mention privacy. I can pull memories from a living thing, true, but it requires time and can be resisted by sufficient willpower. Not to mention it would be something of a diplomatic faux pas to do so in public, during a mealtime. So the good Speaker’s mind is safe from me, at least for the moment.
“Insulting a foreign dignitary usually isn’t considered politic,” I point out, taking a brief glance at the Emperor, who seems to be watching our conversation with a thoughtful expression on his face.
“I do not mean to offend. You have remained in power for a very long time, and I respect that. But your experience in ruling ponies does not make you fit to oversee negotiations between my kind and yours, any more than my political experience makes me a fit judge of airship engineering.”
“Is there anything I could say or do to change your mind on this, Speaker?”
“Yes. You could publicly admit your unsuitability for the role of impartial overseer, resign the responsibility, and leave the settling of the affair to those nations that are actually involved. Unless,” he raises an eyebrow. “Equestria also makes claims on the Senadas?”
I shake my head. “You know we do no such thing, Speaker.”
“This is true, to my knowledge.”
“But I am afraid that I cannot comply with your conditions. I have been duly invited by both the government of the Gryphus Empire and that of Prance to serve as mediator. I will not turn down a chance to do my part in preventing unnecessary bloodshed.”
“Hmmm, pity. So be it, then.” He goes right back to that revolting meaty brew and doesn’t so much as look at me again.
That… did not go as well as hoped.
The remainder of dinner goes off without too much in the way of stimulation, and I leave the table with a sense of vague disappointment, as well as a determination to improve my spy network. From the files I read on him, I had expected Speaker Etton to be a softspoken and tact individual inclined to moving with the crowd, not a blunt straight-shooter who kicks things off by expressing distaste for the mediator. A lesser princess might take the sort of comments he made personally.
I clearly need to improve my information network in the Empire, if they were so spectacularly wrong about such an important individual. I suppose I shall have to see to that when I return to Canterlot at the end of this. It wouldn’t do to be surprised again. I wonder why Emperor Serath chose to stay out of the conversation even when his judgment was being called into question. In an honor-bound nation like the Gryphus Empire, such words can rise to the level of honor duels on occasion. But then, I suppose it’s possible he wanted to avoid more public squabbling than was necessary, or perhaps he was even behind the Speaker’s bluntness, to test how I would react to insults.
A quartet of guards, two gryphon and two pegasus, escort me to what are to be my chambers during this summit: an artificial cavern carved into the stone near the mountain’s peak, lushly decorated in a broad imitation of Canterlot style. An elevated wooden platform surrounded by curtains functions as an effective private room, while the lower cavern floor is more a reception area. I can see that one of the walls has had a door carved into it, to allow flying creatures easier access no doubt. Perhaps I shall get that chance to stretch my wings after all.
“Will these be to her majesty’s liking?” asks one of the armored gryphons, whose name I don’t believe I’ve picked up, but who wears the colors of a lieutenant.
I smile and nod. “Yes, and I thank you and your Emperor for his hospitality.”
He looks satisfied. “Very good then. We shall be posted in the hallway outside.” He points to a rope hanging from the ceiling with a talon. “You may ring if you require anything during your stay.”
I nod again. “You have my thanks, Lieutenant. I am sure I shall be quite comfortable here.” A bit of a lie, but it sounds nice and there’s no reason to be rude. “You are dismissed.”
The pegasi salute me and take up position outside the cavern’s wooden door, followed shortly by the gryphons. The last pulls the door closed behind him, and I am alone.
Or so it would seem.
“You can come out now,” I say, without turning my head.
There’s a twang, and a projectile hurtles towards me from within the curtained platform quicker than blinking. But I’m faster, and more to the point was expecting this ever since I stepped into this room and heard the soft sound of the intruder’s breath. I simply didn’t want any guards to wind up getting hurt.
A golden aura envelopes the projectile and brings it to a swift and unceremonious halt before it can hit the base of my neck. I turn around and take it in with a glance. A crossbow bolt. Cold iron tip for puncturing magical forcefields, runic engravings against magic, and dipped in what I do believe to be concentrated essence of red nightshade. It’s very toxic stuff, known to virtually disintegrate the organs of anypony unfortunate enough to get it in their system.
I believe this thing might have caused me stomach pain.
In any case, my would-be killer doesn’t get a chance to try again – he too is gripped by my telekinetic aura and pulled right out of his hiding place in my bedroom. I yank the intruder directly up to my face before pulling the discharged crossbow from his talon. My attempted assassin is a gryphon with grey fur, white feathers, and what looks to be something of a limp on his rear left leg. He struggles against the gold magic holding him in place, but I’m far too strong and he has no chance of breaking free.
It seems that he realizes this too, for he opens his beak wide – and I hold it like that. I grip a small object inside his mouth and pull it out. As I thought: a poison pill. This one is devoted to his cause, I must give him that.
“I think not,” I say, casting a small spell on the pill. The gryphon shakes with helpless fury as his suicide capsule bursts into flame in front his eyes. I pin him to the ground and steal a glance at his weapon.
It’s an unmodified Gryphus Empire military model, latest design if I recall correctly. Thousands of these things are in the talons of gryphon soldiers nationwide, and there’s nothing in particular distinguishing this individual piece from any of the ones held by some of the guards in this very city. Perhaps this gryphon stole it from one of them. Perhaps he is one of them.
My would-be assassin glares up at me with an impotent fury. He’s not afraid, I can tell from the look in his eyes, just angry that I’m still alive. Couple that with the poison pill he had in his beak in case of capture, and it’s obvious this one is no hired killer or mercenary – he’s devoted.
“So,” I ask the gryphon, still pinned helplessly to the carpeted stone floor. “We have never met before. Might I ask what I have done that makes you feel that my death is the best solution?”
He just growls angrily at me, refusing to speak a word.
“We do not have to be enemies, you know. I would rather we be friends.”
He glares mutely.
“I don’t know what you have been told by your masters about me and why I need to be killed, but I can assure you that it is almost certainly a lie.”
I loosen my control over the gryphon’s head, and he manages to spit at my hooves.
I sigh. “Very well, have it your way then.” I turn away from my pinned assailant and raise a hoof next to my mouth. “Guards!” I call.
One of the pegasi is the first through the doorway. “Your highness!” his eyes dart around the room, finally settling on myself and my attacker. He swallows nervously. “Are you alright, my lady?”
“I am the picture of health, Sergeant Kicker,” I answer him. Which is true, literally in some cases – my ponies like to use me for an example of ideal personal wellness. “Would you all please be so kind as to take this would-be killer to prison for me?”
My guards and the gryphons hurriedly slap cuffs on the prisoner’s legs as I hold them steady. They search him for weapons, drawing a pair of daggers and even a small secondary hand crossbow from his bag and hidden sheathes on his rear legs. When he’s safely restrained and I am confident that he has no more surprises hidden about his person, my golden magic aura fades away. The guards yank him roughly to his feet and begin pushing the sullen gryphon out the door.
“And do be careful,” I call after them. “He may try to hurt himself or somepony else. Don’t let that happen!”
A gryphon and a pegasus drag my attempted and still silent assassin down one of the carved stone hallways, while another runs off to summon more guards. I find myself feeling rather touched by evident anger in the guards’ eyes – they, even the gryphons, care for my safety. It’s rather quaint.
Well, I’ve been here for a few hours and managed to completely put off a powerful politician by my mere presence. On top of that, somepony’s already tried to kill me in my bedroom for unknown reasons.
So, all in all, not my worst summit ever.