//------------------------------// // Griffin Islands // Story: Homeworld Conflict // by Lily Lain //------------------------------// “There is yet one species left to address: the Griffins. Prepare the Ambassador.”   A murmur passed through the Fleet Intelligence. Nothing surfaced, though.   Ambassador unit launched.   Scout escort launched.   Ambassador on the way.   Each second became an hour.   Closing in on the Griffin territory.   Each light on the horizon, a war declaration.   Scout escort departing.   The Equines, friends of the Kushan, had been at war with the Griffins. Would the fleet become an enemy, too, then?   Corvette slowing down. Griffin escort falling into formation.   There was no doubt that the Griffins were expansive.   Griffin Islands visible in the distance.   There wasn’t much to quell the thoughts nagging at the back of the speaker’s mind.   Griffin Capital reached. Landing.   It was interesting, how the Home Fleet could loom in the dark skies over the horizon. How it could block the most beautiful of stars with the coldest metal of the starships. How it seemed from so far away that all the cannons and turrets were meant for you.   Griffin Capital reached.   “We’re safe and sound,” the speaker reported, the sound of his words neither honest nor confident.   “Received,” said Fleet Command, emotions deeply hidden beneath her level voice.   The Capital stood guard to the seas over all the islands belonging to the Griffins. Its walls were of dark stone, with rough, sharp edges, as well as multiple small openings for crossbow and bow sharpshooters. But what could a crossbow do against an ion cannon?   “We are glad that you have finally come to visit us. We were growing anxious you’d not consider us worthy,” started the Griffin King. The crown on his head sat askew by the slightest of millimetres; perhaps he feared that righting it would be a sign of unease.   “We didn’t play favourites, Your Highness,” said the speaker. “We wished to visit you as the last, to understand the land of this world before we reach toward the sea.” Only a sliver of meaning hid behind the pointless poetry.   “Ah, I understand. We have signed a hastily stitched treaty with the Pony nation for the time of your visit. I believe you wish to settle on this world?”   “That is true. We have been reassessing our general knowledge of this world’s nations to understand their nature and find our own place. And, perhaps, the threat they pose,” said the advisor slyly.   The Griffin King was sweating slightly in what seemed his conversation with the Hades’ advocate. He tried to count on the slightest chance to save his soul, and it was the most amusing to toy with him until he broke.   “Perhaps you could show us the art of your nation,” suggested the advisor, smirking slightly. “What does it revolve around?”   He agreed and led them across the castle, an art gallery in itself. From far-off, sounds of music reached them. A music dark, not melancholic, but instilling emotions they wanted to bury deep inside them. What the song was about, however, was to be determined by the linguists on the other side of the radio link to the Mothership.   Most of the Griffin mythology revolves around the sea. Most of the musical and visual art revolves around their mythology.   Detected various depictions of sea beings of varying shapes and sizes.   “These? These are the Seaponies. We aren’t sure whether they actually exist; we’re not suited to explore the bottom of the sea. We’re creatures of the sky,” explained the Griffin King sounding of forced pride. “Legends say they retreated deep under the surface when the wars broke out and now keep under their masking spells down there. Who knows what they’re up to.”   “And this one?” The speaker pointed at a depiction of three strange, draconic-shaped hybrids of varying colours, all rising from water, presumably with the ability to swim.   “This picture shows the Mermaids, or as some call them, the Sirens. With their beautiful songs, they tempted the sailors off the usual trails onto sharp rocks to break the ships and devour their crews.”   “What about this one?” The speaker smirked as the King’s eyes lit up. The both stopped before a picture of a long-necked, scaled creature, partially submerged in water. It had an enormous body, and its wings resembled fleshy fins more than actual wings, but perhaps, had it given them strong enough flaps, it could lift into the air.   “Oh, these? They are, as we call them, the Sea-Dragons. Truth be told, they are my favourite. Enormous creatures from times long past. What was the reason for their existence? What did they do? We don’t know. Some say the Dragons do; apparently they came from the same ancestry line. I wish they’d share their knowledge with us.”   Detected extraordinarily hyperbolic depictions of an island.   “That island was supposed to be a paradise. As you might have seen, our archipelago consists of four islands. That was supposed to be the fifth one. The mythical Fifth Island as we called it.   “Due to our internal struggles, when a Griffin didn’t stop short of killing another Griffin, it sank to the bottom of the ocean. It has never been heard of since, and only legends remain. Some legends say that’s where brave and honourable Griffins go after they die.”   “And who are these two? Is it a symbol of some treaty?” asked the speaker, pointing to a depiction of a short Griffin, with a scar running across his eye and down his head, his uniform markings suggesting a high rank, shaking hands with an enormous Dragon. The Dragon was essentially naked, as nothing showed his significance. The glint of his scales was captured perfectly by the artist.   “Why, it’s the famous Dragon-Griffin pact. I’ve told you about the secrets the Dragons withheld from us, even in regards to our own nation. One of our kings decided to wage war until, due to the enormous losses on our side, our nation had to give in.”   The speaker shared a quick glance with his advisor, who nodded sagely, darker emotions dulling his eyes.   “Needless to say, the war was indeed bloody on both sides, but thankfully both of the nations, two royal generations later for us, decided upon a treaty, as they were finally tired of the lack of resources and the bloodshed. Dragons traded ancient tomes concerning our culture, and we supported them in their leadership of the Council of Nations.” The King noticed something and looked at both the speaker and his advisor in desperation.   “Please, follow me in private, if you may,” he said to the speaker. “The walls have ears,” he whispered.   They went alone inside the closest suite. The guards were left at the door, and the advisor was sent, along with the engineers, for an early dinner, which he promptly refused due to recent “problems with digestion.”   The King’s eyes finally shrank. As he allowed himself to hyperventilate and show his fear, he beckoned the speaker into a bathroom. “The best insulated room in a castle suite.” The speaker followed, although rather reluctantly.   “I don’t want war! I’m a damned pacifist!” His voice, although a whisper, carried enough emotion for the speaker to shift his weight nervously. “The former King was good and kind, but they didn’t receive him kindly when he said something about our hatred toward Ponies – toward everyone – being unjustified. He was shorter by a head not long after.”   “Who did that? Is there some kind of high-echelon clique within the Griffin kingdom?” the speaker asked, awkwardly observing the panting King’s eyes dart back and forth between the door and him.   “A clique?! The whole nation! Years, Tartarus, millennia of teaching cubs hatred. You know what they, uh, we have in schools? A shooting range where they teach how to target the weakest parts of a Pony, a Dragon, a Diamond Dog, and a Minotaur. Where it’ll hurt the most. They even have ‘education trips’ where they take older students for hunting trips. They made hunting a game. They made war a game.”   “We have created proper psychological developments to counter such type of a nation, but I’m afraid we aren’t holy either. We have fought among ourselves before our journey.”   The King sighed before looking at the floor in resignation. “It’ll take years, millennia, to restore us back to the Fifth Island model.   The speaker smiled and put a hand over the King’s shoulder. His diplomatic protocol knowledge screamed of violation in his mind, but he persisted. “We’ll do our best. We can help you, I’m sure of it.”   His headphones recorded each and every word, which was then processed, scrutinized and filed by over a dozen of minds, for each interpretation to add to the greater picture. Reassessing the current Griffin Islands situation: – The Griffin King, while the head of the state, is currently against most of his nation in his opposition of drives for violence and expansion. – With proper social engineering, it is theorized that the nation can be pacified to an extent. It could remove one expansive species from the planet, and thus allow our fleet to settle here without breaking the balance. – The King is the only part of what’s known as the “council” of high-status individuals that would accept the pacifying program. There are multiple ways of either converting the majority of said individuals, or replacing them with those who already support the King’s views. – Proper statement concerning our willingness to help with the unstable situation on the Griffin Islands should be voiced during the Council of Nations’ meeting. “Proper steps will be taken, Fleet Intelligence. Prepare a plan of action for our social engineers and psychologists.” Understood.