Fusion led Midnight along the wall and behind some buildings, towards a doorway into the wall. Within was a hall and Fusion led Midnight towards some stairs to a lower level to another hall until finally he opened a door and gestured Midnight in. Sighing, the unicorn obeyed and saw it looked to be a bedroom, Fusion’s presumably. There was a bed, a chest, a desk, and a lantern providing light. The door closed and he turned to see Fusion pull off his cloak, giving Midnight a real look at him for the first time.
Fusion was younger than the other griffins he’d seen so far, maybe around Midnight’s age.
He certainly wasn’t all griffin, only the front whereas the back was indeed the rump, flanks, tail, and rear legs of a pony.
But compared to either species, Fusion didn’t look proportionally right in his anatomy.
He was a little shorter than the other griffons and less sleek, with a bulkier body. His front legs and claws were bigger than the other griffons’ (only Hresvelgr would outclass him), though his wings did look impressive.
His chest, arms, and wings were brown but the primaries of his wings brightened into an emerald green while the feathers of his head were a dark green like pine. His pony rump was a contrasting mulberry color, his tail in two-tones of green, the same emerald as his primaries and the pine green as his head’s plumage.
His talons were gray, like his hooves, and Midnight noticed Fusion lacked a cutie-mark on his pony flanks.
His overall colors were brown, greens, and reddish-purples that made him stand out among the griffons while his griffon front made him stand out among ponies.
But it was the scars on his body that made him an eyesore. Fusion’s back, flanks, forelegs, even his face, were riddled with scars. They looked like they’d been inflicted with whips and talons, but he didn’t look crippled or anything. Rather he carried himself with a steady even gait.
“I take it my appearance is… unsettling,” Fusion sighed as he threw his cloak onto his bed.
“Um, you could say that…” Midnight admitted.
“Go ahead and have a seat on the bed,” Fusion invited as he sat at his desk. “We have much to discuss.”
“OK…”Midnight sat on the bed and felt awkward as Fusion looked at him. “So… Why’d you bring me here?”
“I want to ask you something – Are you prepared to do whatever it takes to take back your freedom?”
The question was a little surprising but Midnight furrowed his brows and returned Fusion’s gaze with one deliberate and unfazed.
“You can bet your plot I am…”
“Good. Then perhaps we can make an agreement,” Fusion suggested, “but before we discuss any bargain, I want to tell you my story.”
Midnight shrugged which was enough for Fusion, as he took a deep breath.
“As you can see, I am not truly a griffon. I am called a hippogriff-”
“I knew there was a word for what you are, I knew-” Midnight froze as Fusion gave him a look. He cleared his throat, saying, “Sorry… Please, continue.”
“As I was saying…” Fusion growled. “I am a Hippogriff, born of an earth pony mother, sired by a griffon father.
“Over twenty years ago, my father was Hresvelgr’s lieutenant. He was harsh but fair, he never excessively abused the slaves but he was not afraid to use the whip. He commanded respect, from the guards as well as the slaves. He and Hresvelgr were good friends.
“One day, my father was inspecting new… merchandise. Among the new slaves was a young earth pony, not quite a mare but no longer a filly. My father took an interest in her and gave her duties in Hresvelgr’s castle, where it’s better for the slaves but not by much…
“A few months after she’d arrived, the earth pony was assaulted by a couple griffon guards… My father heard her screams and came to her rescue, brutally punishing the guards for what they’d tried to do. Hresvelgr reprimanded him for his… excessive discipline but agreed the guards had no business ‘encumbering’ his house-slaves. Once all was said and done, the pony whispered to my father, ‘thank you’.
“A few years passed and my father couldn’t get the pony out of his head and finally asked for a private word. And her name, to which she answered by introducing herself as Lilac Petals. He then asked more about her.
“Lilac was kidnapped by Hresvelgr’s slave-hunters from the Equestrian coast, like I assume you were. The Slave-Hunters cull the fringes of the Equestrian nation by targeting the smaller communities along the coast, capturing ponies when they… stray from the herd, I guess you could say. With this method, their crimes against Equestria have gone unnoticed for that past few decades.”
“But surely Equestria would notice the missing ponies,” Midnight spoke up.
“Of course they do, but Hresvelger’s hunters are meticulous,” Fusion answered. “They only hunt for new slaves once a month and never in the same place consecutively. Besides, as you’ve surely seen, they also enslave other creatures, like Minotaurs, Dogs, Zebras, they even have a dragon here!”
“I noticed…” Midnight recalled the dragon and how morose it was. “What did they do to that poor creature…?”
“Broke it,” Fusion answered with a low tone. “It’s what they do to new blood that act up or show signs of trouble. Like you did.”
“Ah,” Midnight acknowledged. “So… Lilac and your father?”
“Mm-hmm,” Fusion confirmed. “However, as you probably figured out by now, griffons view other species as inferior, fit only to serve the griffon race. So my father couldn’t openly acknowledge his growing affections for Lilac. He managed to buy her from Hresvelgr and claimed her as his… concubine.”
Midnight narrowed his eyes at that word, Fusion noticing it.
“Yes, it’s despicable but it is a part of griffon culture, to show off your riches, even with a harem of female slaves. My father had to put on a show of brutal dominance over my mother, that he had to… force himself on her in front of Hresvelgr to dash away any suspicions and doubt.”
“And you came along,” Midnight assumed.
“Yes…” Fusion nodded. “Growing up on this island was not a happy experience. All the other griffons despised me as a half-breed and that stigma extended to the slaves, who were repelled by my griffon blood. It was even harder after my mother died of illness five years after my birth. The other griffons assumed that with my mother gone my father would kill me and free himself of the embarrassment of having a halfbreed bastard for a son. When he did not, my father’s position in Hresvelgr’s eyes was undermined.
“Then, five years after my mother’s death, when I'd met my first decade, my father was attacked in the dark. By whom no one ever found out, even my father never saw his attacker. On his deathbed, he made Hresvelgr swear on his honor that I was to live and not be harmed. Hresvelgr gave his word that would be so for as long as I was loyal and obedient. Make no mistakes, friend, I am not free. I am as much a slave as you. In all but name.”
“I can see that…” Midnight looked at the scars with a heavy heart, realizing he’d had Fusion all wrong. “So… what’s this deal you wanna make?”
“I take it you’ve heard mentions of a slave auction,” Fusion brought up, Midnight nodding. “As I said, once a month, the slave-hunters bring new blood to the island. The slaves are broken in for a whole month, at the end of which is the slave auction.
“Hresvelgr and his forces invite other creatures that practice slavery to the island to purchase new slaves as well as gamble.”
“Gamble on what?” Midnight asked. The answer disgusted him.
“Arena fights,” Fusion answered morbidly. “On the other side of the island is a huge arena where Hresvelgr and his guards exhibit bloodsport. Slaves that have shown themselves to be more trouble than they’re worth or otherwise show potential to put on a good show are thrown in to fight for their lives! The customers make bets and those bets are handled by Hresvelgr’s castle-staff.”
“Despicable…” Midnight whispered hatefully.
“Yes,” Fusion agreed. “But… there is a downside to the arena matches. Hresvelgr doesn’t trust the potential buyers and any who bet on his arena matches, so he takes the majority of his guards to provide 'security' at the arena.”
“I think I see where you’re going with this,” Midnight smirked. “You plan to cause trouble here at the castle while the majority of the guards are at this arena!”
“I intend much more than trouble,” Fusion said with a serious tone. “I intend an uprising!”
Midnight raised his brow and said with an even tone, “Before you had my curiosity… Now you have my attention!”
“I take it you’re in?” Fusion smirked.
“One condition!” Midnight insisted, Fusion gesturing him to answer. “Hresvelgr has something that belongs to me, and no matter what I have to get it back! When I arrived here, the Overseer gave it to him as something for his… collection?”
“Ah, what you want lies in Hresvelgr’s treasury,” Fusion answered. “In his castle, Hresvelgr has a vault which contains his riches. Gold, gems, trophies, spoils of war, works of art, even stolen goods! Unfortunately, it’s got a magic lock that requires his talons to open.”
“…Then Hresvelgr’s talons is going to open that vault for me,” Midnight narrowed his eyes, “whether it’s still attached to him or not.”
“Patience, friend. We’re not going to claim our freedom anytime soon,” Fusion insisted. “We must keep our heads low and not draw attention to ourselves from the guards or their superiors. That’s why I put the inhibitor ring back on your horn.”
“Urgh, can’t you give me a fake one?” Midnight reached up and tapped at the annoying accessory with his hoof.
“I trust you want to be allies…” Fusion remarked with a raised brow. “I don’t trust you enough to use your magic discreetly. Like I said, we can’t afford to draw any suspicion to ourselves until the slave auction.”
“I still think having a secret advantage would work for us,” Midnight felt like a pouty colt but it was honest.
“Then tell me, when you saw that earth pony collapse, and the Overseer intended to punish her,” Fusion brought up, “what would you have done?”
“I dunno, something to protect her!” Midnight protested.
“I did do something,” Fusion pointed out, “I helped her get back on her feet and carry on. If you had your magic and saw something like that happen again – and you will – would you risk all our plans to free all the slaves simply to spare one the whip?”
Growling, Midnight sighed, “You’re right…”
“Your heart was in the right place, but patience will be our weapon here, my friend,” Fusion assured, “patience, and tongues silver enough to convince enough of our fellow-slaves to join our cause and plans.”
“Well, I can think of a certain slave that won’t be interested!” Midnight huffed.
“Please don’t hold a grudge against Iron Fist,” Fusion looked sad. “He is as much a slave as we.”
“Didn’t see any chains or collar on him…” Midnight muttered.
“Hresvelgr and the Lieutenant have something far more effective of keeping Iron Fist under their control than chains or collars,” Fusion stated. “They hold his wife and daughter hostage.”
“Oh…” Now Midnight felt bad. “Then… we rescue them, right?”
“Were it only that easy,” Fusion shook his head, troubled. “Iron Fist’s wife and daughter are somewhere in the castle and only Hresvelgr, the Lieutenant, and the guards charged with their keeping know where they are. When they were captured, the Overseer quickly deduced Iron Fist was a capable smith, and the Lieutenant knew he would be difficult to control. So they hold what matters most to him at their mercy in exchange for Iron Fist’s obedience. He hasn’t seen them at all in the months they’ve been held here, only a few exchanges of letters have been allowed.”
“Can’t you find out where they are?” Midnight asked.
“I am not allowed in the castle, not anymore,” Fusion sighed. “Back when my father was still the lieutenant I was allowed in the castle, but ever since he died I can’t set so much as a talon in there. And my memory is long and sharp; there are plenty of places Iron Fist’s family can be imprisoned in there.”
Sighing, Midnight asked, “So, this plan… what are the specifics?”
“Like I said, the arena is opened once the slave auction and potential buyers come,” Fusion explained.
“They start with the arena fights to get the customers riled up and to show off. Because he doesn’t trust his clientele and the security hosting the arena fights demand, the majority of Hresvelgr’s guards are stationed throughout the arena. Meanwhile, the slaves are locked in the barracks with a minimum of guards keeping watch. However, they keep a signal tower to alert the guards over at the arena of any insurgence from the slaves and the arena guards come flying.”
“So we need to disable the signal tower,” Midnight gathered.
“And tip the odds in our favor,” Fusion nodded. “For that, we’ll need access to the armories, enough allies among our fellow slaves to fight alongside us. We won’t have to worry about the visitors, as they’ll only be here expecting to do business. I’m sure once the fighting begins, they’ll stay out of it or flee.”
“So who would you recommend among the slaves to win over?” Midnight asked.
“I already have some who are willing to fight back but not enough,” Fusion sighed. “A lot of the slaves don’t trust me because of my griffon nature. However, I think another pony, namely you, could more easily win their trust, but you have to be careful of whom you speak to, where you speak with them, and what you say. You must be absolutely certain the candidate can be trusted enough to at least not reveal our plans to the griffons. Also, be mindful of where you are when you talk to them, you never know who could be eavesdropping.”
“…Would Iron Fist join us?” Midnight tried.
“Were his family not at risk, I would say yes,” Fusion sighed. “But Iron Fist is too afraid to for their safety to be trusted with being included in our plans. I fear he would betray us.”
Sighing, Midnight asked again, “Then can you think of anyone else I could try?”
“…You noticed the dragon they keep to open the portcullis, yes?” Fusion asked, Midnight nodding yes.
“I’ve tried to talk to him but he always swipes his tail at me. He himself can’t talk because of the muzzle they have on him to prevent him from breathing fire, so he’s limited to answering yes or no questions.”
“He would make an excellent ally provided we could free him,” Midnight mused. “…I’ll try and talk with him.”
“Also, you may want to try the zebras in the greenhouse,” Fusion added. “They are responsible for the magic-weakening drug the griffons give to the unicorns when they work the forge.”
“So then they could make a cure! Maybe even make up a drug we could use against the griffons,” Midnight’s brain was hatching ideas.
“As exuberant as our discussion is getting, I should bring you back to the forge before you’re missed,” Fusion insisted.
“I’ll have another word with Iron Fist and convince him to let you run errands for him. This way, you’ll be able to speak with the other slaves while you run errands.”
“Hmm, not looking forward to that conversation,” Midnight sighed but followed Fusion out.
Thankfully, Iron Fist was (more or less) willing to allow Midnight to run errands for him but forbade him from working in the forge. However, this meant the inhibitor ring had to stay on Midnight’s horn because the only the unicorns who worked in the forge as they drank the drugged drinking water were allowed to discard them.
Even so, over time, Midnight ran errands for Iron Fist, delivering new weapons and armor to the guards, bringing back supplies, the Overseer would mock and try to provoke Midnight from time to time but he forced himself to submit, even when the Overseer whipped his back and left a scar.
“RRRGH!!!” Midnight growled as he sank his teeth onto the piece of wood Fusion had put in his mouth to deal with the pain. The hippogriff wiped a rag wet with water and medicine on the whip mark the Overseer had scarred upon Midnight’s back.
“Please be strong, Midnight,” Fusion said in a calming voice, “we must treat this wound to be sure it does not get infected. Slaves who grow sick suffer from more than illness.”
Midnight groaned as Fusion then beckoned him up and started wrapping bandages around his barrel.
“I would tell you to take it easy but the Overseer won’t allow it. All I can advise is for you to be careful.”
“I tell you, Fusion…!” Midnight seethed, “At the first opportunity I’m gonna turn that Overseer into fried chicken!”
“Patience, my friend, our uprising will come!” Fusion promised, “But we must bide our time and gather our strength. Tell me, have you spoken with any other slaves?”
“I have…” panted Midnight, “one of the zebras in the greenhouse, Zircon, wants to be free. He told me his wife at home in Zebrabwe is expecting their first child, and he has sworn to get back there in time for the birth.”
“So he’s in?” Fusion asked.
“I didn’t outright ask him to join,” Midnight clarified, “like you said, we don’t want to spoil the surprise before it’s ready but I think Zircon would gladly join us. Not only that, he’s the zebra who created the magic-weakening drug in the first place, so surely he has a cure.”
“That is good, anyone else?”
“The dragon is a definite maybe,” Midnight reported. “I managed to speak with him and he nodded yes that he wants to get free and pay back these griffons for what they’ve done to him. I saw the look in his eyes and say he’s got a fire in his belly he’s just burning to belch out onto these flying furballs!”
“Excellent, but we must be even more discreet,” Fusion looked out the window of the stockade they were in and noticed a certain griffoness looking their way.
“The Lieutenant is wary of you and the more time we spend together will only feed her suspicions more.”
“My Lord, with all due respect, please allow for me to resume breaking the blue unicorn!”
The Lieutenant was in Hresvelgr’s chambers, the griffon lord in his four-poster bed, the curtains drawn as he growled like an animal, the mare beneath him whimpering as he had his way with her.
“Urgh, I grow weary of your whining, Lieutenant! The blue unicorn is as submissive as the rest of my slaves, although you seem to be forgetting your place!”
The Lieutenant was glad the curtain was up so she could narrow her eyes reproachfully at her ‘lord’ for his arrogance. She huffed in disgust when he heard him groan in satisfaction and pushed the crying mare out of his bed, squawking, “Leave us!”
The mare sniveled and hurried out, the Lieutenant held up her master’s robe, which he took and donned, sighing his content as he took an ornate pipe and lit some tobacco. Because of his beak, it was difficult getting a puff but he’d mastered the art by using his tongue.
He took a deep breath and exhaled the foul haze towards his Lieutenant who snorted at its rank as he said, “The auction is almost upon us and I would prefer to be relaxed and prepared for the arrival of our clientele, which your badgering seems to be getting in the way of. So I will say this only once, Lieutenant! Put your paranoia on hold and focus on the security detail for the entertainment to which I plan to treat my guests. I plan to rake in quite a hefty profit from our merchandise and substantial winnings from our customers’ betting in the arena! Am I understood…?!”
The Lieutenant lowered her head so Hresvelgr would see her eyes narrowed in contempt as she answered, “So it shall be, my lord.”