“Gotcha!”
Armet’s coat was grabbed by the pegasus, and he was dragged out from his hiding place. The griffon shut his eyes tightly and yelled, “Let me go! I didn’t do anything!”
The bad pony chuckled almost metallically, “Of course you didn’t. You’re too cute to beat up a team of pegasus Night Guards by yourself, Armet.”
Armet’s eyes flew open at his name, and he recognized the owner of the voice, “Mr. N! Why are you here?! How did you find me?”
The man rolled his eyes behind his faceplate, “pfft, finding you was easy. You’re a loud panicker, honestly. I’m surprised that guy didn’t find you under my desk!” The giant lowered Armet to the ground. “A firefighter wouldn’t be scared like that, eh.”
Armet blanched. He hadn’t meant to say anything! Was he really that bad? “W-what?” He shook his head, his face graced by an indignant frown. “I wasn’t scared!”
“Hah,” Mr. N scoffed, “course you weren’t. You were just hiding from bad things because reasons, amirite?”
Armet could just imagine Mr. N’s raised eyebrow, or whatever worked as one under that helmet of his. He didn’t really know what “amirite” was, either, but it sounded like, “am I right.” So, he nodded, because that was definitely the answer!
Mr. N’s reaction was warm, his laugh spreading into Armet, despite the mechanical filters of the helmet distorting it ever-so-much. “Yes, of course you were, but don’t worry. I won’t ask you why because your reasons are your own, even if they get you into trouble.” Mr. N walked around to the back of his desk and started to put everything into a suitcase he pulled out from nowhere in particular. All of his files, knickknacks, stationery and books went in, and when there was nothing left out, he closed the case. He had put so many things into it, Armet wondered how it all fit in the tiny box.
“Well, we certainly can’t stay here, so I’m afraid we must return to your home. These pegasi,” he nodded towards the two slumped by the desk and the pair in the doorway, “will wake up in a few minutes, and we really must get out of here as soon as possible.” With that. he strode out the broken door, leaving Armet with the unconscious ponies.
“Are you coming?” Mr. N poked his head back in, the rain dripping down the glass faceplate in spattered rivulets. Armet scampered after his human teacher into the rain outside.
[/HR]
“And that’s how the Soviets got wrecked,” Mr. N finished his tale, accenting it by sipping at the black coffee in his hand, pure black liquid bliss scorching a burning trail down his throat.
Armet sat amazed, his own cup of cocoa steaming with chocolatey perfection through the whipped cream on the top, and his beak. “So, basically the Novans--”
“Yup,” he sipped.
“And the Estovakians--”
“They did,” he slurped.
“So the Stjerneans--”
“Never seen again,” his voice muffled by the coffee mug.
“Ah,that makes sense.” After that they sat in silence, Armet sipping through a straw and Mr. N chugging his two-litre coffee mug without pause. “Humans are weird,” he concluded with another sip.
Mr. N nodded in reply, lowering his now empty mug from his steamed faceplate. “And that was in 2064, 149 years before I was born and we had colonies on other planets. Good thing it was the Novans who won, because otherwise the Soviets would have messed everything up, what with their crazed fanaticism and close-mindedness. They would more likely have blown up any alien life they found, or just nuked the planet instead.”
“So, who was the Lord Marshal?”
“The oldest man ever at 270 years old, even though he was mostly synthetic. I met him personally, and he told me a first-hand account of the Great War.”
Armet shifted in his seat in the parlor of his home, Gamarts now asleep on the loveseat by the window, his own cuppa joe untouched. He was gonna need it in the morning. “Why did you join the military?”
“Well,” Mr. N paused, thinking back in time fifty-three years to when he enlisted. “That’s a good question. I guess it was because I wanted to fight for what was right, or at least what I thought was right. One thing is for certain, though; I don’t regret a single moment of it. In fact, that’s our motto: ‘Never forget, never regret.’ Simple, yet meaningful.”
Gamarts stirred in his sleep, the old changeling wriggling into a more comfortable position. Armet looked at the clock on the mantle. 4:27, A.M. Good thing there wasn’t any school tomorrow. “So,” he said, “why were those ponies at the school? What were they looking for?”
“Me. Or rather, proof of a crime that I may or may not have committed in the past. Let’s just say that I’m not exactly on friendly terms with Equestria, and they’d probably imprison me first chance they got.” Mr. N looked down at the coffee barrel in his hands, shoulders slumped in shame.
“Oh,” Armet looked at his hot cocoa the same way, minus the shame. “Maybe you could peel the court, or something?”
Mr. N shook his head, “First, it’s ‘appeal to the court.’ Second, the Equestrian judicial system is Tribunal in origin, just like that of Yadrolev, but the aristocracy of Equestria is so corrupt that many of them are prejudiced against people like me. Especially their Princess.”
Mr. N stood up, taking Gamarts’ coffee and downing it almost instantly. He reached out to Armet’s half-drank cocoa and offered to refill it, which the young griffon accepted. Mr. N returned later with Armet’s new cup with more whipped cream and chocolate shavings.
“I’ve done things I’m not proud of in that country, things that would take too long to fully explain. To summarize, I was what you’d call a sell-sword, or a mercenary. I was a military consultant for hire, as well as a tactician for the grimy stuff that the noble court was too unwilling to handle themselves. They needed someone done in, and I obliged, provided they paid the right price. I never really liked doing that, dishonorable as all get out. So, I left the business shortly after the Blueblood family screwed me over on a deal.
“So, the Equestrian Royal Guard had a bounty on my head for false charges of kidnapping, theft, murder, and treason. When the gryphon Jarls caught word of me, they wanted my services, and got them by offering protection. The price was fair, but I did things that were wrong according to human law. So, after fifteen years of serving Jarl Ohnmar, I retired from that business and went into academia. Needless to say, my reputation here in Yadrolev grew from being brutish and cunning, to powerful and wise. Of course, a few favors from the Jarl managed to get most of those stories quieted down, thank whatever gods were looking out for me.”
Mr. N took a breath in his rant, sitting back into the plush leather sofa. “Now, I’m here as a teacher, and the Equestrian Government has found me. I can only hope that her Royal Highness doesn’t show up--”
The door chose that moment to slam open, a blazing light glaring into Armet’s eyes. The sound, though, jolted awake Gamarts, the changeling tennant now cowering behind the couch. “Agent Nikhilus, you are under arrest for war crimes against Equestria! Submit and be peacefully detained, or resist and face the consequences! This is your only warning!”
And in that doorway stood Princess Celestia in her blazing glory, decked in full battle armor and a complement of Royal Stormtroopers with her. “Yeah,” the man in question spoke up, nonchalance flowing from his voice. “Well at least you kept off the Royal Caps Lock, so points for that!” He stood up and slowly clapped his hands, the sound of ballistic canvas colliding the only sound in the room, aside from the still raining outside. “But, no. This is Yadrolev, Sunbutt, and ya gots ta adhere to the rules in Yadrolev! You could be charged with breaking and entering a military sanctioned residence and disturbing the peace. You know what time it is? Too early for this shit, that’s what!”
“M-m-mister Nikhilus! L-language, sir!” the elderly changeling flanged from his hiding place. “There are children in the room!”
All eyes went to Armet, whose eyes were still wide with shock at Celestia’s appearance. It took a few seconds, but he said, “What?” Such elegance, many wow.
“You cannot hide behind griffon law, traitor! Undoubtedly you were not invited into this home, and your changeling accomplice are holding this poor foal captive!” the pony Princess said blatantly.
Armet interfered, using his own knowledge of griffon law, “Hey! I’m no foal, I’m a griffon!” he puffed his chest out at that, even though it was scrawny and he went up to a guardspony’s barrel. “Besides, I invited him in, and Gamarts is our tennant. He’s legally ob-leh-gay-tuhd,” he stumbled with that last word, “to live here and pay rent, so there!” The notion did not go unnoticed by the old bug, who smiled and almost visibly looked younger from the subtle love to the words.
Celestia peered down at Armet with one eye, “Well, did you know that changelings are notorious for fooling ponies in order to steal love from them?”
“Well, how do you expect us to be able to eat?!” Gamarts bristled and hobbled to confront Celestia. “These griffons were kind enough to offer an excommunicated changeling to live with their son, even if they knew what my brothers and sisters do! They willingly allowed me to earn my way into their hearts, and willingly give emotions. Your ‘ponies’,” he spat the word, clearly laced with venom, “refused to give me a chance! I never took another’s form when I was severed from the Hive, and I want to live an honest life! Do not throw me in with those conniving skeevers of Chrysalis’ Hive, because I’m no longer one of them…”
Armet gave his watcher a small hug, the changeling now appearing much older after the outburst. Mr. N’s heart was warmed at the display of familial affection, and turned to the Solar Monarch with a tired anger in his concealed eyes. “Honestly, Celly,” she bristled at the nickname. That was solely reserved for Luna! How dare he? “I’m tired of all of this banter. As far as I know, you don’t even have a warrant, and I sincerely doubt that any of the Jarls or their Stewards would do so.”
Celestia smirked, telltale of an Ace in the Hole. “Well, then you’d be surprised to learn that I have approached Jarl Theseus on the matter of your arrest, and he signed it.” Nikhilus lost, defeat evident in his posture. One does not go against a Jarl’s word lightly.
One doesn’t betray their honor either, and honor was an important part of gryphon civilization.
Mr. N stood up straight. I guess I’m beat, he thought, no other option than to buy a farm next to Otto’s. “Then there would appear to be no other option. How are we doing this, execution?”
“No! Of course not!” The ponies went green with the mere thought, while Armet’s and Gamarts’ faces turned somber. “You are to be tried, found guilty of all charges, and imprisoned in stone for one thousand years for your crimes. There is no other alternative suitable for a monster of your calibre.”
“You mean like how you imprisoned a draconequus for threatening to send your perfect world into chaos? Or how you sent your sister to the moon because she was a threat to your grip on Equestria?” Nikhilus muttered, the acidic words biting into Celestia’s guilt-ridden heart. The pony shock troopers looked to their Princess in confusion, shock evident in their slightly less sure stance.
“You will not speak of my sister like that, beast,” she growled darkly. “Guards, apprehend the monster. We shall not dawdle any longer.”