66 - Get your kicks
Extended Holiday
Ch 66: Get your kicks
Act 8
The room was pitch black with only dim pools of light given by weakly glowing torches in low-set sconces where they sat waiting for their audience to come. The chairs were old and dusty and didn’t seem to have been used in many a year. Cosy sat by one of these torches, feverishly writing on some parchment he levitated with a quill.
Grif looked around agitatedly. “You know, you think they’d at least give us a better waiting area,” he grumbled. “It’s like being in a box in here.”
“They probably just want to keep us safe, Grif. Daedalus is very anxious to meet with such prodigious and special persons,” Avalon said as she fussed over his feathers. “Just relax and let things come as they will.”
Grif sighed and nodded as he looked around. “What are you working on there, Bellacosa?” he asked.
“A letter to Cady,” Cosy said as he continued to work on the composition. “There’s some things I need to ask her.”
“Crystal empire business?” Grif asked
“Yeah. It’s really important, but not for the meeting. I’m just making this so Cady and I can talk more when I get back home.”
“Ah, stallion stuff, huh?” Grif chuckled a bit as he winked at Bellacosa. “Pensword, not having a panic attack over there?” he asked.
Pensword looked from the other side of the room. His restless pacing had worn a path through the dust. “Trying not to. Just… a thousand years ago, I did not want to even be on this land mass, and yet, here I am, setting hoof in a building that…” he trailed off and began treading a new path. “Still, I do not know if I am pleased or not that we are out of the way.”
“Consider it an act of faith, Pensword. Daedalus wants to keep us alive. And besides, didn’t you say you had the word of this Bloodfeather fellow that you’d be kept safe?”
“Yes, but what about the servants? Or others in the castle? There are more than just the Emperor’s guard to consider. I saw at least two different king emblems on Gryphons during our trip here.” He looked over at Cosy. “Do you want me to use the Dragonfire when we get back from this meeting?”
“Yes, please,” Cosy said. “But only if it’s alright for us to use. I don’t wanna cause problems.”
“It will be fine,” Grif assured him. “You're not nervous?”
“Well … maybe a little, but Daedalus is supposed to be around my age, right? So that means we should have a chance to get along. I did pretty good with the gryphons back at the Farflyer compound, right?”
“Daedalus is fifteen, actually,” Pensword added as he continued to pace.
“So? Compared to how long gryphons live and how long we live, doesn’t that mean we’d be closer together anyways? Besides, he said he wants to get on the Crystal Empire’s good side, right? And I want him to be our friend, too. So I don’t see why I should be scared unless he gives me a reason.”
“Being scared and being nervous aren't the same thing,” Grif told him “Being nervous is like a ball of ice in your stomach keeping you on edge and eyes open for trouble coming. It’s being nervous that can save a warrior's life on the battlefield.”
“So being nervous is kind of like being cautious?”
Grif nodded “Never be ashamed of being nervous. Fear makes you sluggish; nerves make you sharp. The important thing is learning to separate the two.”
Ten minutes later, a familiar red Gryphon entered followed by two armed Gryphons. “Avatar, the emperor seeks your guidance,” he said, bowing his head.
“I see. I won’t go to him without my companions,” Grif returned.
“Of course, Avatar. His Holiness has already had his next audience informed of the delay.”
Grif nodded as he looked at the others and gestured. Jorund turned to lead them away. “Ready?”
Pensword nodded his head, taking a slow, steadying breath. “I am.”
“I can’t wait,” Cosy said, smiling as he bounded up from his seat, rolling up the scroll and placing it in a saddlebag he’d brought with him for the wait.
The room they were led to was vast and octagon-shaped, each wall symmetrically facing each of the winds’ directions. They passed through a doorway carved in a large marble wall that towered above them. In the center of the wall, above the doorway, a large amethyst carved in the form of a rune representing the southwest had been engraved. The four cardinal direction walls were made of granite with a topaz gemstone forming a rune for each direction, while three other marble walls faced the adjacent directions, each holding an amethyst rune of their own. By the north and south stood a squad of red-armored large male Gryphons. To the east and west were posted a squad of blue-armored Gryphonesses each. To the north-east, south-east, south-west, and north-west, four massive crystalline Gryphon statues were placed standing at attention while looking positively deadly in their stillness.
In the center of the room stood a throne carved out of red stone. The two armrests both ended in an intricately carved, forward-facing Gryphon head with its beak curving down dangerously. Lapis Lazulis glinted in the eye sockets. From the Gryphon heads to the back and up the backrest, intricately carved swirls and lines had been formed that somehow made the observer think of wind just by looking at them. Sitting nervously on the throne, on a black velvet cushion, was possibly the most Gryphon-like Gryphon Grif had ever seen. His head and crest were covered in white smoothed feathers with a distinctive eagle head. His lower body was covered in sandy-brown fur with a long rope-like tail swatting in a feline manner behind him with a tuft at the end. He was clothed in a fine purple coat, but surprisingly, wore only a thin circlet of white gold upon his head.
Daedalus inclined his young head as he looked over the gathered company. “Prince Bellacosa, we have been eagerly anticipating your arrival, and that of your party.” He smiled gently. “I am hoping that in this meeting, we may be able to re-establish ties and contacts as we held in olden times, only more peaceful, rather than war-like as my ancestors were.” He then turned to Pensword. “The mighty Pensword, the Demon of the Third Great War, and one of the greatest tactical minds Equis has ever seen. In the past, many a Gryphon would have sought your death, and most likely found their own. Fortunately, I am not such a Gryphon.” He smiled. “I welcome you to my empire with all of your troops.”
Lastly, he turned to Grif. “And although it is of vital importance to establish relations with the Crystal Empire once more, I am truly honored to have the Avatar of Winds stand in the presence of my own court.” Daedalus rose from his throne and approached Grif as he walked down the stairs of his dais before finally standing in front of the mighty warrior of legend, bowing his beak low in respect.
Grif placed a claw under his beak and pulled it up. “Please, none of that,” he said.
“Have I done something wrong?” Daedalus asked. To his credit, he still managed to keep a neutral face, but his eyes told a far different story to Grif.
“I am not someone worth bowing to,” Grif told him. “Not even my family bows to me.”
“This is a rather special circumstance, Grif, and I’m bound to exercise certain traditions and decorums if I am to maintain my position in my Empire,” Daedalus said wearily as he placed a talon over his brows. “One little slip-up and the Kings will be at my throat.”
“And how will they accomplish that with the Winds Father dead?” Grif asked him.
“What did you say?” Daedalus suddenly snapped to attention.
“He was choked to death by the East Wind when we arrived at the monastery. The monks will confirm it.”
In a very un-emperor-like manner, Daedalus let out a whoop of excitement. “Winds be praised!” he shouted. “That Gryphon was as crooked as they come.” Then, realizing just what he had said and in what company, he immediately proceeded to cough, clear his throat, and return to the former impassive mask he had worn when they first entered the throne room.
“I believe it may be prudent if we would all retire to some place less exposed,” Grif told Daedalus. He looked towards Bellacosa. “Perhaps somewhere two royals can talk about the future of their two nations?”
“An excellent suggestion,” Daedalus said as he motioned to one of the guards. “Inform the Gryphons I won’t be taking any audiences today until further notice. Have Talon take over if the matter is urgent.”
“Sir, is that entirely wise?” A guard asked.
“Wise or not, I am doing it, Brunhilda. See that the arrangements are made. Go on. I doubt the Avatar has come with a vendetta.” With a shooing motion, the guards left, though several were reluctant to go. “Finally,” Daedalus said as he went up to his throne and touched one of the Lapis Lazulis on the left head. The throne slowly slid aside as a staircase revealed itself.
“Woah,” Cosy marveled, turning away from the crystal Gryphon he’d been examining when the grinding stone rumbled into his ears.
“Deep breaths, Pensword,” Grif spoke under his breath as he wrapped a wing around Avalon.
“Trying,” Pensword whispered. “Really, really trying.” His voice wavered at the end. “Doesn't help that Matthew is going nuts over this history, and secret passages, and boiler rooms.”
“What is it with you Gryphons and hidden staircases?” Grif whispered into Avalon’s ear playfully as they walked towards it.
“Haven’t the foggiest,” Avalon said. “But you have to admit, it is pretty fun.”
Daedalus entered the staircase first, followed by Bellacosa, then Pensword, then Avalon. Bellacosa’s guard and Pensword’s guard followed as Grif and Kel’leam took the rear. The staircase vanished just as they entered and the door slid back into place. All was silent, and the group was so busy following Daedalus that none had the time to notice as a dull glimmer shone in the dead eyes of the Gryphon statues.
As evening drew on in the Everfree, a ghostly form made its way across the courtyard towards the gate. A black case had been laid awkwardly across his back, the strap pulled tight across his barrel. Vital Spark looked up at the horizon where the setting sun glowed like a crimson ember as it fell lower and lower. Soon the moon would be rising and Luna would bring the stars. He sighed as he looked to the forest. It had worked once before when dealing with death. Perhaps this would work again. Pulling himself from the reverie, he finally made his way back to the gate as he waited to be recognized.
“Who’s there?” a familiar voice shouted from the gatehouse.
“Relax, Demo. It’s just me,” Vital said.
“Ah, Vital, what are you doin’ out here?” Demolition Charge asked in his scottish brogue.
“Going out for a stroll. Mind opening the gate for me?”
“Aye.” He nodded. “Just be safe out there; the Everfree is a mean mistress at night.”
“I’m sure I’ll be alright. Thanks for the concern, though, Demo.” Vital smiled as he approached the slowly opening gate. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’ll call out when I do,” he said by way of farewell as he made his way across the bridge. “Make sure to let the others know I’m fine, okay? I know how much they worry about me.” He smiled then before turning and returning to his slow and steady course down the path and into the forest. Five minutes later, the gate opened yet again as two cloaked figures made their way out of the gate to follow his track.
The forest was surprisingly tranquil for a place that was supposed to be so dangerous. Vital sighed as he passed from tree to tree, looking at their disfigured boughs and their monster-like knot holes. Placing a hoof on one of the jagged trunks, Vital sighed. “You’ve been through an awful lot, haven’t you? I don’t blame you for adapting the way you have. I probably wouldn’t like it much if I had my family chopped down for houses. You’re just trying to defend yourselves.” He sighed and looked up as the first stars began to dot the sky. And then he chuckled. “If the guys saw me now, they’d probably think I was crazy.” Shaking his head, he moved on, pressing further away from the road as he followed the zigzagging game trail that had been left behind by the various predators and creatures of the forest. Eventually, he came to a large, circular clearing where the moon shone bright and the stars glimmered. He smiled then and sighed once more as he looked up at the moon.
“Looks like it’s just you and me tonight, eh, Lady Luna?” he asked, chuckling once again as he stared up into the bright moonlight. Further toward the middle of the clearing, he could just make out a blossom shaped in a pattern that looked very much like snowflakes as they absorbed the moonlight, glowing silver, even as Vital glowed white.
“I look like a ghost, don’t I?” he asked the air. “I sure feel like one sometimes.” He chuckled yet again as he levitated the case off his back and slowly laid it to the Earth. He found it was much easier to use the skill with items he was familiar with and close to. With another flick of his horn, the case popped open to reveal a red felt lining. In the hollow above, a single violin bow sat, waiting to be tightened, resined, and played. Its mother-of-pearl inlay beneath the base shimmered in the moonlight like a rainbow mist. With great care, the red felt coverlet was removed and hung over the top of the case as Vital looked down over the instrument that sat there. In the clear light, a dull sheen barely shone on the well-used instrument. The poor thing was covered in fingerprints and smudges from constant use, and a fine layer of resin had collected on the strings and the wood before its bridge. Vital sighed heavily, then concentrated as he focused his horn on the instrument.
He knew what he wanted, and the spell was supposed to be a fairly simple one for beginners. As an extra precaution, he had practiced on a glass, breaking and repairing it several times to make it as good as new. Letting the magic flow in a slow, controlled manner, he watched as the wood slowly took on a new shine, the smudges disappearing. The resin flew off the wood and strings like snow as it blew off on the wind. Soon the instrument looked brand new, its wood well-polished with a red sparkle in its varnish. With the spell successfully cast, he allowed himself the luxury of staring at the instrument for a time. A haunted, pained look came into his eyes as he softly sang to himself.
After a time, he sat and closed his eyes, absorbing the night air and the sounds of nature as it had been at home. He recalled stargazing as a child, the joy it brought. He thought of campfires and s’mores with his family. He remembered laughing with a human father who watched proudly as he caught two fish with one lure and the magic that seemed to play across the river campsite as they looked up into the stars.
“I miss you, Mom, Dad. Everybody.” He sighed. “I-I did something I’m not really proud of. And I know it was an accident. I know I shouldn’t feel guilty over it all, but I do. Heck, half the things that’ve happened here would probably make your heads spin if you only knew.” He sighed and shook his head. “I just … I don’t know.” He sighed again as he undid the velcro, holding the neck of the instrument in place with his magic while he twisted the holder for his bow and pulled it out before tightening the hairs. He performed a few tests on the strings and tuned them up, then he began to play, carefully running the bow over the string as he got used to the sensation of holding the instrument in mid-air, rather than holding it against his neck with a shoulder rest.
The song began quiet and unsure as he slowly ran the bow along, imagining the notes in his head as he recalled one of his old favorites from long ago in school that seemed to fit the occasion. A mournful melody played through the air with a celtic flavor as he continued to play. After reaching a certain point, rather than jumping into the accelerando like he was meant to, he instead began to improvise as he poured all his feelings into the art. The homesickness, the loss, the guilt, and ultimately, an unspoken longing for something he could never obtain, but only hope for. Playing at a mighty Fortissimo, the song slid up the E-string as he strained to the highest notes. The instrument continued to play, aching, crying with his pain as the tears poured down his cheeks. With a final flourish, he cut a passionate vibrato off to echo and die in the night and lowered the instrument back into its case to rest.
“I’m so sorry,” Vital said, his voice hollow and dry. “I’m so, so sorry.” Then he felt a hoof on his shoulder. His body convulsed in surprise, but the familiar voice soon put him at ease and he turned to see the glowing, compassionate eyes of his favorite Zebra.
“I heard your song crying in the dark. Tell me, what is the matter, Vital Spark?”
“Zecora … I--I--” His upper lip trembled. His eyes stung. His breath sputtered. And before he could stop himself, he sobbed and cried, the power of speech robbed by his emotions. He felt the striped forelegs circle him as two loving, ancient eyes looked into his own tear-filled ones.
“Shhh …” she hushed as she rocked him back and forth. “Let the tears flow until they run out. Then you can tell me what this is about.” She smiled at him, then closed her eyes as she began to gently sing a slow, comforting melody. There were no words, but words were not needed for something like this. As the song continued, the sobs gradually died down and the trembling ceased. Eventually, Vital disengaged from her as he looked back up to the stars. A flush of embarrassment showed in his cheeks as silence filled the space between them.
“Beautiful things, are they not?” Zecora observed as she smiled at the heavens. “For stargazing, this is the perfect spot.”
“You stargaze, too?”
Zecora nodded. “It’s one of my favorite things to do. My brother and I used to do it too. Long ago in our tribal home, on the plains of Zebrica, where our people still roam.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Vital said, surprised.
A sad glimmer shone in her eyes. “I have not seen his face in many a year. And much like yourself, it has caused many a tear.” This time Vital was the one to do the hugging.
“Thank you,” she said simply as she stared up at the stars. “He always would say when they shone so bright, how he wished he could share that gentle light, to spread hope in the dark of an evil night.”
Vital chuckled. “He sounds a lot like me.”
“In many ways, he was.” She sighed. “Yes, in many ways, he was.”
“You lost him?”
“Long ago to the ice and snow.”
“He died in the mountains?” Vital asked. Zecora remained silent as she stared up at the stars. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” he said as he looked back up to the jeweled sky. He didn’t know why, but for some reason, being here with Zecora felt right. “If you’d like, I suppose I could try playing something else. Maybe to cheer things up?”
“Perhaps we could use a pick-me-up,” Zecora said, smiling. Vital spark levitated his bow and violin once more into the moonlight as he began to play another piece. This one spoke little of sadness or longing and more of a desire to give love and comfort; to lay old pains aside and think of happy memories instead. He closed his eyes and let instinct take over as he let the familiar desire to love, comfort, and serve fill his heart and mind with the music of his soul. He could hear the orchestra welling up in accompaniment and feel the percussion beating a steady rhythm in the background to the resonant thrum of humming voices. When the time came, he let the final note, resonate with the deeper voices before it faded out as the choir in his mind held their note, then slowly disappeared into the night air. When he had finished, he opened his eyes to see Zecora brimming with tears.
“Zecora? Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?”
The Zebra shook her head. “You truly have such a beautiful gift. The song of your heart bears great power to lift.”
“It’s not all that special,” Vital said, blushing as he stared down at the ground.
“You must not have heard that heavenly sound. You’ve attracted an audience. Just look around.” Zecora motioned around the clearing where several sets of glowing eyes blinked and peered at the pair. “And the spirits were pleased to join with your choir: a song of love filled with burning desire.”
“So that humming I heard--?” Zecora nodded in affirmation. Vital Spark just gaped, surprised that he would have received something like that, let alone actually hear it. Given enough time, he came around as he watched the eyes wink out one after the other when the creatures realized the performance was over. He carefully returned the instrument to its case and secured it before returning the felt covering where it belonged. Then he loosened the bow-hairs and returned the bow to its own mount inside the case and secured it as well before closing the case with a quiet click.
“Zecora?” Vital asked.
“Yes?”
“You can talk to spirits, right?”
Zecora nodded. “I can. Why do you ask?”
“There are some spirits I want to talk to. I was wondering if you might be able to ask them to come.”
Zecora responded with a troubled frown. “And who are these spirits you wish to see? What is the reason to call them to me?”
“To apologize.”
“You have not been here for very long. Who are the Ponies and what did they do wrong?”
Vital shook his head. “Not them, Zecora, me. I want to apologize to them. It’s … I had to kill when the castle was under siege. I--well, I want to ask for those changelings’ forgiveness.”
Zecora looked on the Unicorn with pity and the regretful look of a sympathizer.
“... You can’t, can you?” Vital asked as he met that gaze. His eyes stung from the want to make more tears, but he’d already cried himself out.
Zecora shook her head sadly. “They are out of my reach. No one can prevail, when the spirit has passed beyond the veil.”
“You mean the second one.”
Zecora nodded. “The first veil lies between Spirit and Mortal. Few eyes on this world can breach that portal. The second lies betwixt this world and the next. There, no power can force them. The spirits find rest.”
“Then I’ll never get to apologize.”
“Someday you can, and someday, you will,” Zecora said as she laid a hoof around Vital’s shoulder. “But first you must live, your life’s purpose fulfill.”
“And how can I do that if I can’t get back home?” Vital asked.
“The heavens work in mysterious ways. You’ll learn soon enough how destiny plays.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Zecora shook her head and smiled. “You will see, Vital. You will see.”
For a rare moment in his life, Hammer Strike walked through the Everfree with a grin on his face, burning away at the growth on the path to New Unity. Soon he found himself looking at the gates, Demolition Charge on duty while Demolition Granado was cracking open another bottle.
“Granado, report.”
“It was a’ alright day,” he said. “Until a prissy miss unicorn showed up from Canterlot with her bunch of idiots.”
Hammer’s grin dropped faster than a hot potato. “Did you get her name?”
“Somethin’ like Fools Jade?” he asked Hammer Strike.
“Fools Jade?” Hammer hummed for a moment before realisation hit him. “Oh, Fel Jade... Well, you’re close on that one.” He sighed heavily. “Why couldn’t it have been Fancy Pants, or one of the Hurricanes?”
“Hammer, that Unicorn, you know she donnae need to make it back. We could always say she never made it here,” the cycloptic Pony said as he attempted to make a clever motion.
“Demo, no. That’ll lead more of their kind here.”
“Damn,” he sighed.
“That explains the choice in poison tonight.”
“Ya want some?” Demo offered his bottle, which, rather than the average three X’s, simply had a ring of them around the center.
“As much as I’d love to, I’m pretty sure I’ll burn it out in moments.”
“Don’t go insane in there, Hammer,” Demolition Granado said as he took another swig.
“It’s too late for that, Granado. I might just head to my forge. Unless she expects a meeting, which I am really hoping she doesn’t.”
“Go do that, then,” Demo Granado said, followed by a massive belch. “I’ll keep watch up here--” he made another indelicate noise “--like I always do.”
The long passage twisted and wound through the bowels of the palace as Daedalus led the way with confidence. The way was kept lit by glowing blue crystals jutting from the walls at various intervals, carved to take on the appearance of living flame. Eventually they came to a fork in the passage, and the young Emperor took the left turn, leading them up several flights of stairs until they reached what appeared to be a dead end. Nicking himself, Daedalus placed the blood on the stone surface and it immediately shifted aside, revealing a gradually spinning inner wall, cleverly built to match the outer one. Inside, a small but functional council room waited for them. A somewhat less ornate throne sat at the head as a series of chairs built for multiple species sat waiting on either side.
“We should be safe to talk here freely,” Daedalus said as he entered. “This council room doubles as a panic chamber. The bloodstone insures that I’m the only one with the key, and concealment spells protect it from prying eyes outside.”
“Good.” Grif sighed with relief. “God, I hate formalities.”
Pensword did not say anything. He simply looked around before moving to take a seat.
Daedalus chuckled. “You and me both.” He walked up to Cosy and looked him over. “I hear tell you caused quite a stir back in the Museum, Bellacosa.” He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You have no idea how happy I am you did.”
Cosy blushed. “Thanks, your majesty. But if you don’t mind, call me Cosy. Everybody else does.”
“Cosy it is, then.” Daedalus took the young colt’s hoof in his own taloned hand and shook. “It really is wonderful to have you and your friends here in my court. The Winds couldn’t have chosen a better time to answer my prayers.” He turned to face Pensword. “Sorry for all the stiffness back there. I’m afraid that’s the only way I can really hold any power or respect right now. If I let the people see some of my real personality, they’d probably try to kill me all the faster.” He sighed. “The lovely burdens of state.”
Pensword looked at the Emperor. “I am an enemy of your entire nation. You do not need to butter me up, nor do you need to explain yourself to me.” He sat down in the chair to prove his point.
“You may be an enemy to our nation, Pensword, but as far as I’m concerned, the nation can hang itself. It practically has already.” Daedalus spat as hate filled his eyes. “Those stupid kings couldn’t stop squabbling for five minutes to focus on the people if their lives depended on it.”
Then Daedalus turned to face Grif and Kel’leam. “Kel’leam, I’m truly sorry,” he said. “You deserved a medal of honor for what you did. Instead, I could only banish you to protect you.” He smashed a fist against the table. “Winds damnit, what good is being Emperor if you can’t even rule properly?”
“I found honor even so,” Kel’leam told him. “I have no regrets.”
“Winds bless you, Kel’leam,” Daedalus said gravely as he turned to face Grif. A playful smile played across his beak.
“You know, I always imagined running up to you and asking you a thousand questions all at once. I must’ve gone over this meeting at least a thousand different times before you finally arrived and I still don’t know what to say.” He laughed. “Imagine that; I meet the greatest Gryphon to live since Grask Dragonfeller himself, and I don’t even know what to say.” He stuck out a taloned hand. “It’s good to finally meet you in the flesh, Grif.”
“I’m far from the greatest.” Grif shook his head. Still, he took the hand. “I’ve done plenty to make that clear.”
“And modest, too. Yet another thing the historians got wrong.” Daedalus laughed, then sighed. “I really wish our people would stop being such prideful jackasses.”
Cosy’s mouth dropped open.
“What? Don’t tell me you haven’t heard cursing from your guards before, Cosy. Some things, no matter how different the races may be, are always universal.” Daedalus plopped himself down in the smaller throne as the entrance shut itself. “Please, sit down. We have a lot to discuss, and I’m guessing you all chose to be Cosy’s escorts for more than just a desire to see the capital.”
Pensword looked at Cosy. “I will speak on the issue after we wrap up with the pleasantries with Cosy. I am sorry, but that is what I am willing to do.” He was a little shocked the Emperor had seen through the facade. He had thought that the Gryphons would bank on Cosy wanting to come from a position of power, bringing the two with him for the sake of intimidation.
“Pensword,” Cosy said. “If I’m old enough to start being a diplomat for the empire, then I’m old enough to get involved in whatever else you guys are starting. There’s no place safer than this room, and we have no idea when we might get the chance to be in a place like this again. Don’t worry about me. Tell him what you need to say.”
“Daedalus, we need to alter the treaty Equestria and Gryphonia formed at the end of the war,” Grif said bluntly, “giving equestria the right to protect its allies and colonies.”
“You found a loophole in the accords,” Daedalus said as he raised a taloned hand to his head. “Great. One more thing to juggle. How bad is it, Grif? Tell me honestly.”
“If the kings ever figure out it’s there, they could systematically target Equestria’s allies and colonies until the country collapses economically.”
“I can see the problem.” Daedalus nodded as he tented his talons on the table. “I certainly wouldn’t mind putting my seal to a new set of accords, but there is a slight problem. My seal won’t be enough. We’d need the seal of the Equestrian Diarchy as well. Without that, no Gryphon alive would be willing to acknowledge it. At least, no Gryphon of the old ways.”
Grif smiled at Pensword. “I think someone should be able to get that.”
“I can get the Lunar Seal with ease. It is the Solar Seal that will bring trouble. The Diarchy have created their own cities for their seats of power,” Pensword answered. “Still, I must have two or three days to get this taken care of.”
“Pensword, I thought Celestia really liked you, too. And she knows the importance of something like this. Couldn’t you just send her a letter with Grif’s dragon fire and tell her about the emergency? I think she’d understand.”
“Yes and no,” Pensword answered. “The easy part is getting the letter to Celestia. The hard part is getting the seal to us. Celestia is good, but the others of the court, I am not so sure.”
“If those nobles don’t realize the danger they’re in, I pity them. Just tell them their assets are in danger of being destroyed. From what I’ve seen in our records, money is something those nobles relate to very well,” Daedalus said.
“The point is to get this done before one of the kings find out, or you may find the two of us unfortunately against you in a massive land war.”
Daedalus’ eyes darkened. “Not if I have anything to say about it, they won’t. No King can officially declare or go to war without my approval. And I’ll die before I give it.”
“That’s another thing, Daedalus,” Grif said. “You should send word to the Western Safehouse. Tell them to start preparing for your arrival.”
“It’s that close already?”
“Daedalus, we have reason to believe the same king who killed your parents is targeting you next.” Grif looked to Avalon. “Lord Farflyer would have warned you himself, but he still hasn’t fully recovered.”
Daedalus growled. “Grask Bloodbeak.” His talons dug into the table, screeching against the stone as he pulled them back. With some effort, he managed to regain control of himself and sighed wearily. “Thank you, Grif. I’ll have the necessary preparations made.”
“...Say what?” Grif asked. “I thought for a moment I almost heard you say Grask.”
“I did.” Daedalus growled again. “He’s a disgrace to his name. He’s even gone so far as to claim direct descent.”
“Grask has no surviving descendants,” Grif growled.
“With his sins, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Part of me wants to stay here, just so I can get the chance to cut his head off myself.”
“Well then, we’d best hope he steps out of line before I leave,” Grif said. “You prefer silver, or gold platter?”
“Please. He deserves nothing so ornate. Put it in a burlap sack and tear the kinslayer’s wings off if you get the chance. He doesn’t deserve them.”
“You have a week at most, Daedalus. I’d start making necessary arrangements in secret. You have a betrothed? Get her out of the city ASAP,” Grif told him. “Start subtly getting the Gantrathor primed and ready.”
“Rest assured, I will,” Daedalus promised. “Fortunately, I haven’t had the time to focus on finding a mate yet, so that’ll be one less thing to worry about. I’ll make sure to get things rolling right away. Was there anything else we needed to discuss?”
“It’s not really so important, but I have a trade agreement we can go over when all the fighting’s done,” Cosy said. “Your airships could do wonders for our Empire, and I’m sure our crystal technology can only benefit yours.”
Daedalus laughed. “If we all survive this, you’ve got yourself a deal, Cosy.”
Shawn sat at his desk. Drawings were scattered and mixed in with documents and notes on the table. In front of him was a note entry that he was writing about current events around New Unity, as well as reminders to himself on main projects that could be worked on and on a few personal projects that he wanted to do.
‘...With a few changes to design thirty-four, you could alter it to work on an endless fuel supply...’
Shawn shook his head. “What fuel can be infinite and not require a constant part of my focus to create?”
‘...Chapter twenty-three: Conditional Aspect Logistics...’
Shawn felt confused. He hadn’t gotten to the chapter yet. Reaching for the blueprint in mind, he made a few notes on the side. Supplying such a thing with power could work.
‘...Adding a system to regulate the creation of crystallized aspects inside the machine would allow you to use it without the focus on fuel consumption...’
“That could work…”
‘It will work.’
Shawn nodded as he continued to write more onto the paper in front of him. After a few moments, he finished writing and nodded to the plans. It took a moment for him to register a few things.
“Wait,” he said as his eyes widened. Without giving it a second thought, he grabbed one of knives in his desk and stood, turning towards the voice, only to have the air greet him in return.
“...What?” He questioned, looking around his office for who had been talking to him. “Show yourself.”
After hearing nothing in return; no voice, no breath, no movement, for a solid few minutes, he lowered the knife and looked towards the paper he was writing on. It was full of notes on a system that could create Thaumic Crystals with use if the user had such a thaumic field, or enough energy to do so: a near constant fuel source that needed only a brief source of magic to start the process.
But the question in his mind wasn’t on if it would work. He knew it would. No, the question on his mind was how did he know how to make it?
The simple decor of the Avatar’s room spoke to his practical nature as he sat on the floor, his lighter at the ready while it burned Pensword’s letter. Soon the ash was gone, starting its long journey from Gryphonia to Equestria. Grif prayed the Winds would speed it along its way as he flicked the lid hastily shut. Avalon lay lazily on the bed as she perused her notebook, where she had transcribed many important pieces of information from her studies during the three days she and Grif had been with the Quetzalcoatl.
“So how long before the attempts of flattery and bribery, do you think?” Grif asked his wife as he put his lighter away and began sharpening his weapons.
“Oh, I figure it’ll be pretty soon. You are their only hope of getting what they want, after all. And I doubt they want to try to kill you after all you did during the war,” she said casually as she continued to review.
“Should I go with easily insulted and stuck up, or possibly condescending? I do good acting condescending,” Grif said as he worked. “So many things to consider.”
“You do well acting condescending, dear,” Avalon casually corrected as she flipped a page in her notebook. “As for the Kings and their envoys, just act like you. You don’t really want them to know you’re playing with them.”
“But that's the fun part,” Grif laughed as he worked.
“Whatever you say, dear. But if you want some lessons from a master, the best way to play with them is to make it seem as real as possible. If condescending is part of your nature, then by all means, feel free to use it. Or if it’s not, then make sure to put some other part of you in there that is you so it’s not all fake.”
Any further banter was interrupted by a knocking at the door. revealing Brother Cloud Claw. “Avatar, the kings have requested your presence in a private room.”
“I see.” Grif nodded. “Well, tell them I will attend to them when I’ve finished maintaining my weapons.”
“They seemed very adamant about seeing you now,” Cloud Claw said.
“Brother, I have never paused in my weapons maintenance for anything. That includes a massive attack on my primary camp during the war. If I didn’t stop it, even then, I’m not stopping that habit now. They will simply have to wait.”
Cloudclaw nodded. “As you wish. I will send the message.”
Grif closed the door and returned to his weapons, a grin on his face as he anticipated the coming exchange.
Pensword paused as he heard a knock at his door. He had been working with Cosy, teaching basic tactics and verbal sparring techniques, an invaluable skill to any noble. At the moment, a rudimentary chess board was being used to help visualize some of the tactics.
“Are you gonna get that, Uncle, or should I?” Cosy asked.
Pensword looked to the door. “I’ll get it,” he muttered as he stood up and walked over He opened it just slightly. “Yes?” He growled, using his commander’s voice.
“Commander Pensword? The kings have requested a meeting with you in a private room,” the monk behind the door said.
Pensword looked behind him. “Cosy, stay in the room. Be safe, and do not open to anyone unless it is someone you trust behind the door.” For now, Pensword decided he would listen to what the Kings had to say. He had a feeling that he was really the second target here. If they were going after him now, then Grif had most likely snubbed them. He smirked at the thought.
“Yes, Uncle,” Cosy said, nodding as Pensword left. The commander rolled his eyes as he followed his guide down the halls. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.
Pensword was led down a series of halls until they came to a large sectioned-off door. The monk knocked hard on the edge before opening and gesturing for Pensword to enter.
Pensword marched in wearing his full uniform from the Third Gryphon War, including two medallions around his neck. One was from his home, Mountainside Falls, and the other was the emblem of the office of Commandant at Fort Triumph. He resolutely looked the kings in the eye without breaking pace as he stood before them where they sat. He would not give them the satisfaction of a bow.
The first Gryphon sitting on the right of his table was a large golden eagle-leopard Gryphon wearing a finely made red garment. A large serrated sword was strapped to his back. “Greetings, Pensword. I am King Grask Bloodbeak,” he said, almost with painful courtesy. “We’re so glad you could make it.”
“What is so important that you wish to speak to The Demon?” Pensword asked, getting straight to the point. As an added emphasis, he moved his wing aside to reveal the legendary pitchfork, Concord.
A platinum gryphon with an albatross’ wings and the body of a siberian tiger stood from where he sat and cleared his throat. “It has come to our attention that a certain crisis of the faith has arisen in our kingdom. With concern for our kingdoms and our peoples whom we govern respectively, it is our wish to insure that the resolution of this crisis ends with a … favorable outcome.”
“Favorable to whom? Your subjects? The Nobles in your courts? Or what about your own selves? Or your treasuries? I have heard that too many times… most of them slated against my own race,” he said, baring his fangs as he twitched his left ear, emphasizing his Thestral features. “Just who gets this favorable outcome?”
“You are aware that we are bound by the same treaty you witnessed the signing of,” the third Gryphon, a kingfisher-headed gryphon with the body of an ocelot said.
“I am not talking about my own race. Celestia sees to that protection. What I worry about is your own people. An unhappy population could rise up and dispose of the entire system if it gets taxed too much, not on wealth, but on the lives and souls of the nation as well.”
“Your concerns are legitimate, Commander Pensword,” Grask Bloodbeak said as he signaled for his allies to remain where they sat. “Please, what would you desire for relations between our two countries? Let us discuss an optimal situation for both Gryphons and Ponies.” His tone was surprisingly level, betraying no hint of aggression or aggravation.
“A full acknowledgement and apology for the tragedy of the Third Gryphon War to my face, including acceptance of responsibility for all the innocent lives lost in the surrounding villages. Also, a guarantee that Ponies can travel unmolested to the Kingdoms and Imperial city to help conduct trade, or following through on the promise to build a city for trading on the coast.”
“Out of the question! Those Ponies brought their fates on themselves for daring to push into our lands.” The albatross fumed, smashing his fist on the table.
“Be silent, Cornelius!” Grask barked sharply. “Remember that the commander was there, whereas we have only knowledge passed down.” He looked to Pensword and nodded his beak, deliberately ignoring the glare he received from the Albatross-tiger cross Gryphon. “Please, forgive him. Some of us forget that history has a way of dirtying the details.”
“Then Faust and Winds be praised I am back to clean it up,” Pensword growled. “Let this be your first lesson. My town, which was wiped out, was a day’s hard flight from the boarder’s no-fly zone. As you know, the zone itself was a day’s hard flight wide.” He glared at the three Gryphons. Their guards shifted uneasily around the edge of the room.
“My sincere apologies regarding your village, commander.” Grask eyed Cornelius with such cold fury that the guards could swear the temperature of the room had dropped. “But please understand that was a thousand years ago. We sincerely hope that peace between us and you is possible after all this time.”
“I will see what I can do. What was a Thousand years ago for you is still very recent for me. Still, it seems that we are at the stage of trying to come to some type of understanding?”
“Well, Commander, I understand your desire for an apology, but I’m afraid it’s quite impossible as things stand now,” Grask said as he sat back. “I mean, I can offer you my apologies, but not under any official means without the emperor's approval.”
“Right. While I would not mind the apology, it might cause a problem for your plans. Would it bring havoc?” He asked with a smirk. “Still, I am a reasonable stallion. What would you be willing to trade for me to remove that demand?”
“Well, if a stronger emperor were in place, I could see your apology being made publicly in less than a year hence.” The gryphon smiled. “As well as ensuring that trading ports and relations were strengthened between our peoples. What, with the amount of assassinations that have happened amongst the nobility in the last year, it’s amazing Daedalus is even still alive.”
Pensword continued his cold smirk. “Weak emperors aside, though, your assassins seem to be a little hog wild, what with at least two attempts on my own life, as well as that of Prince Bellacosa of the Crystal Empire, and the Avatar of Winds.”
Grask assumed a haughty and aloof expression. “I am insulted that you would associate me with the barbarians known as the Black Tips.” He grimaced. “They have been nothing but brigands for hundreds of years.”
“Still, what do you plan on doing? I have heard no less than three times that the Black Tips have been, or will be, taken care of. What do you plan on doing with them? I assume you have a plan for this ‘weakness?’”
The kingfisher spoke up. “When flesh is infected or decayed, it must first be … removed.” He ran a finger across his neck with a talon to make his point.
Pensword let his silence do the talking.
“Of course, for that, the new emperor would require the Avatar’s support with the Winds Father's unfortunate passing,” Grask said.
“You wish for me to put in a good word for you?” Pensword asked.
“I would never ask you to use your comradery with the Avatar to further my personal means,” Grask said in a rather obvious act of confusion. “But if such a thing were to happen, it would be most beneficial.”
“... We shall see,” Pensword answered.
Fel Jade slowly made her way down the hall, humming to herself as she ran a brush through her hair and applied some rouge to her cheeks before they were teleported away in a flash of light. For a brief moment, she allowed her mind to wander as she recalled the conversation she had had after the meeting with NOOB had been concluded.
“You’re asking me to do what, Blueblood?”
“If it comes down to it, Fel Jade, I want you to seduce Hammer Strike. He has money, he has power, and he has the Princess’ ears on top of owning all of Everfree. The one thing he doesn’t have is a mare to share his passions with. Should your initial efforts prove unsuccessful, it falls to you to fall back to seduction.”
“It’s only been a few years, Blueblood!”
“Plenty of time to get over the loss of a stallion you hardly loved in the first place.”
“Be careful what you say, Blueblood.”
“Jade, do you want this plan to succeed or not?”
“Of course I do, but--”
“Then do it, Fel. This is not up for discussion.”
Fel Jade sighed as she knocked on the door.
“You don’t have to knock; enter,” Hammer Strike called from inside.
Fel Jade opened the door. “Hammer Strike, we need to ta-wahahaaaa!” she shrieked as she jumped three feet into the air, her carefully groomed mane flaring perfectly straight.
Hammer Strike looked up from his desk, giving her a questioning look. “What?” Hammer Strike’s study was a simple room with the bare essentials: a few bookshelves and chairs scattered around at various intervals and the large desk where Hammer Strike sat working. It was actually three placed together around him. Off to the side of the room, a fireplace roared and crackled, casting light and warmth through the room.
“M-m-m-m-manticore!” she shrieked as she pointed toward the lounging lion-scorpion hybrid that now lay with its ears laid back on its massive pillow by said fireplace as he absorbed its warmth.
“Oh, him. That’s just El Fluffy.”
“El … Fluffy,” Fel repeated, dumbstruck. The manticore yawned at her and fixed her with its cold feline eyes.
“Basically, he followed me back here and we just kept him around. Nobody seems to mind.” Hammer Strike shrugged. “Heck, he even helped out during the Changeling siege.”
Fel Jade shuddered at the thought of the manticore tearing into Pony flesh. “And you’re sure he’s tame?”
“Hasn’t attacked anyone. So yeah, most likely.”
“Oh. Okay then.” She walked casually up to Hammer Strike, flicking her tail as the scent of perfume filled the room.
“So what brings you to my study?” He questioned, glancing up at her for a moment.
“I just wanted to make contact. Say hello … you know,” she said, looking awkwardly around the room.
“I take it you don’t care much for the environment, considering everything is still under construction.”
“I’ll admit it has some to be desired, but restoring and building always takes time. I’m actually rather surprised you don’t have other quarters though,” Fel said as she approached El Fluffy. He rumbled, snorted, sneezed, then growled at her, baring his teeth. Fel Jade let out an “eep” of surprise before jumping back.
“...Odd, he’s usually just relaxed most of the time,” Hammer said, glancing at Fluffy. “That is, unless you’re armed or carrying a poison of some sort.”
“Poison?” she exclaimed, shocked. “Why would I have poison with me?”
“To be honest, I wouldn’t know. Then again, I know that a lot of Ponies, Gryphons, Minotaurs, and other possible races would like me dead.”
“Hammer Strike, I am many things, but I am most certainly not a killer.” She sighed. “It must be my perfume. It probably irritated the ... poor thing’s nose.” El Fluffy growled again, his eyes narrowing.
Hammer Strike hummed to himself as he finished off the paper he was working on, moving it off to the side. “Plausible. Fluffy isn’t around many ponies who wear perfume.”
“None of your soldiers wear it in their off hours?” she asked, surprised.
“Not around New Unity. No reason to.”
“How surprising. I thought they would if they were going out for dinner or something.”
“Perhaps when New Unity has places to go for dinner. For now, we are fixing the castle here and then comes the city around it.”
“I see. And what are your plans for the future, Hammer Strike?”
“Rebuild this place like it use to be. At least, with better buildings and proper plumbing.”
“Oi, Hammer Strike!” A voice called out from behind the door. “You in there?” Fel Jade went rigid.
“One moment, Scout,” Hammer called out.
“Um … it seems you’re rather busy, or are about to be anyways. Maybe I should come back at another time … when you’re not so … occupied,” she said, shying away to the side of the door.
The door flew open, smacking Jade in the face as Scout walked in. “I got that report for you.”
The door slowly creaked back on its hinges as Fel Jade twitched and groaned against the wall. She shook her head to get ahold of her senses, only to shriek as she noticed how her perfectly coiffed mane was now a frazzled mess.
“Ah, Cracked Ruby, you shouldn’t be hiding around doors like that.” Scout sighed and shook his head. “Some ponies just aren’t careful around here.”
Fel Jade made several strangled noises, her left eye twitching.
“Might want Doc to check out that twitch. Doesn’t look pretty.”
A red flush ran up Fel Jade’s neck and slowly mottled her face until it was completely red. “You--you--you!” she sputtered.
“Me, me, me? You hit your head or somethin’? Yeah, sweetheart, you really need to see the Doc.”
Steam blew out her ears as she slammed a hoof into the floor before breathing heavily to get herself under control. The mottling slowly retreated and she composed herself with great difficulty. El Fluffy watched with his usual impassive, unblinking gaze. “With your permission, Hammer Strike, I have some things I need to take care of. Do you mind?”
“Sorry to cut the conversation short. We’ll have to resume some other time,” Hammer Strike said, nodding
“Yes … yes, of course.” She curtsied, then made her way toward the door. “Scout,” she said curtly.
“See ya’ around, Ruby.”
Fel Jade’s fur frizzled as she left before the door slammed shut with a magical glow, nearly shaking it from its hinges.
“Man, what’s up with her? Engie keep her awake with his music?”
“No, she just doesn’t care for you.”
“...Well I don’t really care for her, but at least I’m nice about it.”
“Yeah…” Hammer trailed off for a moment. “Perfect timing, by the way,” he said after making sure Jade was far enough away.
“It’s what I do best, besides clubbing a few Changelings, of course,” Scout replied boastfully.
“Cool it, Scout. I can still adjust your pay.”
“You got it, boss.”
Vital Spark walked nervously behind his bedroom maid as they made their way through the glowing green tunnels beneath the gardens. “So why did Me-Me want to see me again?” he asked as his ears swiveled, picking up on the echoes of their hoofsteps as they clopped across the stone.
“The queen fears that you may be under a great deal of stress. She believes she can bring to light some knowledge you may find enlightening.”
“Well, I guess she’s right on the first one at least. I’ve been dealing with something for a while now and it’s getting a little easier, but it’s still difficult to bear, you know?”
“Sadly, I’m not a soldier.” His maid shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand what it’s like to be in that position, but mother was a soldier before.”
Vital chuckled. “That makes two of us. I guess I just sort of wish I could apologize to them, you know?”
“That's always very admirable,” she said. “I have heard others say that people like you should hold on to that.”
“Not that it would make much of a difference,” a familiar voice spoke up as Me-Me approached them from an intersecting tunnel. “Thank you for bringing him, Scuttle Sweep, you may go now.” Me-Me nodded.
“Of course, mother.” The changeling nodded in return before turning and leaving.
“So what’s this all about, Me-Me?” Vital asked. “Why the urgency?”
“Because you are far more damaged than you're letting others believe,” Me-Me said, pushing a hoof against his chest.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Me-Me.”
“If you tell a pony that, they might believe you,” she told him, “but I am an emotivore. I can sense your emotions,” she reminded him. “Follow,” she said as she turned and walked down the tunnel she’d approached from.
Vital sighed and did as instructed. “I’m not about to deny it. If you say I’m in deeper pain than I think, I’ll believe you. Heck, I’m not all that surprised, honestly.”
“You blame yourself for the deaths of soldiers 448 - 453, my brothers,” she said as they approached the entrance to a chamber.
“I should. It was my magic that did them in. My thought, my action, my responsibility.”
“You know what separates them from you?” she asked him as they entered a large chamber glowing a deep and welcoming purple. The walls had been cultured in such a fashion that benches seemed to be molded from it. “You can feel guilt.”
“And they can’t?”
“My mother didn’t allow us feelings, thoughts, a sense of self. It was better in her opinion. It made us stronger, more powerful soldiers.” She chuckled dryly. “I’d say we were no better than animals, but many animals were in much more fortunate positions.”
“Then why did they laugh so much when they were attacking Canterlot? Did that come from them or from Chrysalis?”
“Mother's influence is the only emotion in the hive mind. When water sits still, a pebble makes far-reaching ripples.” She laughed again. “Only she and my sister had any thoughts or feelings. To be honest, the rest of us didn’t even know what gender we were.”
“That bad?”
“The perfect soldier is unquestioning. What better than a soldier who could not comprehend what a question was?” she asked. “I brought you here to give you the thanks that they could not. … You gave them peace.”
“After I broke and pierced their everything.” Vital shuddered again as the memories of what he’d done came rushing back.
“You ended a lifetime of emptiness. You let them have rest.”
“Then why can’t I rest?” Vital ran an angry foreleg over his eyes to rub the tears. “Why do I still see them every night? Why do I have to relive that siege over and over again? Why?” The sound of his hoof echoed through the halls as it slammed back onto the stone.
“Because you haven’t been forgiven by the most important person,” Me-Me told him.
Vital chuckled. “You’re not the first one to bring that up with me. I learned that lesson a long time ago.”
“Did you?” she asked. Suddenly her form erupted in green fire, replacing her with his own image. “You killed them. You ended the lives of six changelings. Why didn’t you save them?”
“Because I don’t know how!” Vital’s own horn flared, the blue clashing with the purple of the room.
“Would Twilight have killed them? Would Luna? Would Cadence? They could have saved them!” the figure shouted back.
“I know that.” The doppelganger looked surprised as Vital’s horn dimmed. “I know.”
“Those others were weak. You were strong. You and Trixie could have simply walked away,” he growled. The green flames erupted, revealing Pensword glaring daggers at him. “I thought you were better than that!” he growled. “You're a murderer!”
The flames erupted again, revealing Hammer Strike with his level, flat stare as he slowly clapped. “Oh, good job. Killing those six living things. You must be so proud.” The sarcasm cut like a knife.
“Shut up!” A beam of blue energy shot at the image of Hammer Strike. A glowing green barrier had sprung up when the dust cleared, protecting the doppelganger. “Why are you doing this?” Vital asked as he struggled to hold his breath, to prevent the sobs from racking his body as he fired another and still another randomly around the room, filling it with dust and debris as he followed Me-Me’s path as she switched between forms, each staring with scorn, each hurling insult after insult. “What was I supposed to do?” Vital finally yelled, the tears streaming. “What was I supposed to do?” He lowered himself to the ground and laid his hooves over his head. “What?” he sobbed. “What?” He shook, unable to speak as he broke down entirely, the dust sifting around him.
Me-Me said nothing as she returned to her base form. Lying beside him, she laid a gossamer wing across his body and hummed soothingly as she comforted him. “If my brothers could speak to you, they would thank you for what you've done,” she whispered to him. “They would thank you. Remember that, and let it go.”
Grif entered the room, his weapons and armor gleaming in the low torchlight, contrasting with the blackness of his feathers as they almost seemed to devour the light around them. He stood stone faced and impassive as he stared at them expectantly. Neither bow nor even a nod of respect was given as he waited for them to stand for him. They did not.
“Greetings, Grif. We’ve been waiting for you for some time. Your weapons are well, I trust?” Grask asked conversationally as his soldiers closed the door.
“Poor maintenance promotes wear, tear, and rust,” Grif said. “Only an idiot neglects tools of such importance.”
“True, true. A Gryphon is only as good as his weapon and talons. Please, take a seat. We have much to discuss.”
Grif took his time pulling the seat out and circling around before sitting. He tented his talons carefully on the table. “So how can I help you, gentlemen?”
“I hear you and your companions had some trouble on the way to the capital.”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle. Filthy vermin should have known better.” Grif shrugged.
“They are an unfortunate oversight, though, and a sign of weakness in our emperor's rule. My fellow Kings and I have done our best to make ends meet, but we can only do so much in our own territories.” He sighed heavily.
“And have you brought any ideas to the Emperor? Offered your wisdom?” Grif asked.
“There are many spies in the empire, Grif. We’ve tried to get a private audience with him, but he’s not interested.”
“The ignorance of youth, no?” Grif said as he feigned a somewhat judgmental grin. “And what do you gentlemen plan to do about it all then?” he asked. “Or had you been making plans on that front with the late Father?” Grif asked in an even tone.
“Let’s just get straight to the point, Grask, I’m sick and tired of playing with your little games,” Cornelius said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as his broad pinions flexed.
“And who has time for that these days?” Grif snickered as he eyed them. “You gentlemen know I have no love for the homeland; you have no danger from me.”
“You will swear to this?” Grask asked.
“I swear that Daedalus shall never know of what transpires here tonight, neither will the empire, nor he, affect my judgement,” Grif said, nicking his talon in the process.
“Good,” Grask said. “Then we can get down to business. You are aware, of course, that you need to make a decision on the next Winds Father, correct?”
“Of course, but that's not a decision to be taken lightly. The public would look down, I think, if I were to decide on a noble’s relative or some other such thing.”
“Naturally,” the Kingfisher spoke up. “We would never suggest such a thing. We simply hope you plan to select one of the more senior monks. They’re better trained and more well versed in our history and lore.”
“Now then, gentlemen, tell me how you plan to deal with the weakness of the emperor,” Grif said.
“The usual way,” Grask said, waving a hand dismissively. “The old ways are the best, after all.”
“And forgive me for being the devil’s advocate, but what about if the emperor were to reach the Gantrithor? I mean, the thrusters on that ship alone would make it impossible to catch,” Grif asked, fishing for details as he acted like a bumbling strategist.
“We have everything under control, Grif, you needn’t fear,” Grask assured him. “Just make sure to enjoy your stay,” he said, smirking.
"You’ll forgive me, but my wife has plans for exploring the palace next week. I need to be assured that she won’t wind up dead.”
“If we wanted her dead, Grif, she already would be,” Grask said. “Fortunately, no one here is so foolish,” he said, eying his companions meaningfully.
“Of course not,” Grif said. The look in his eyes shone with a fire that seemed to burn the three kings down to their very spirits. “Such action would result in your deaths, your families’ deaths, and your clans’ blood pouring in the streets of your cities.” He chuckled. “Now, gentlemen, I have to ask which of you would be the one to take our emperor’s place in showing our people their strength?” Grif asked.
“That, dear Grif, is to be a surprise.” Grask smiled.
“I… see.” Grif sighed. “Well, gentlemen, I have no argument our people have lost their view on what true strength is, and I fully believe that the four of us agree this needs to change.”
“Leave it to us,” Grask said.
“I have no doubt we shall be seeing each other again before the end of my trip, gentlemen.” Grif nodded. “Now you three should leave. Do it quickly and by different directions. You three came here together, and honestly, a fledgling could tell that was suspicious enough,” he said haughtily as he rose to his feet. When he’d left the door, he smirked as the sound of outraged squawking echoed down the hall. “Job well done,” Grif said to himself, smirking as he sauntered off.
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Verrrrry interesting. Grif agreed with them without actually agreeing with them. I'm not sure they even realize what he did there...
Let's see... Daedalus won't get the meeting transcript, Doesn't mean he can't be warned what to do.
His opinions won't be swayed by his feelings for the Emperor... nope. They might be swayed by his distaste for the Kings. :-)
And they all agree on the need for change, but Grif carefully did not point out that -his- intended change is pretty much the opposite of what the Three Stooges want.
So far, so good with the meeting with Deadalus, seems that for such a young leader, he is following certain older behaviours closer than some of the older birds. The throne room was an intresting layout, with the arrangements of the guards, as well as those so called statues. Its been said several times before that the Griffons her have advanced crystal technology, picked up in base when the Crystal Empire vanished etc, but I wonder just how much of that technology was created by next or after loop Hammerstrike etc? Spot the Crystal Prince proximity activation. If those things can move, never mind laser eyes and even fly, then some Griffon is going to get a most unpleasant suprise indeed. shortly before he meets teh sharp end of Grif And Pensword at the same time. If not the missus. Trouble is with the panic room, is do you go for end of the line, trapped Vault, or do you go for the sneak in teh back through the should be hidden and unknwn about discovered by accident escape route?
Vital Spark, wandering out even to a known location at night in the Everfree got me somewhat concerned, as even between his bursts of power, Zecora, Fluttershy, and Mustrum Ridcully Hammerstrike, I wouldnt have thought the Everfree denizens had quite got the message in such a short time that things would get very unpleasant for them very quickly. then again, its very short time since the area was full of combat changelings, and there would be I thought irregular patrols to stress unwanted out, and then there are those two after for protection, unless one was Zecora, and that changeling from MeMe afterwards? what was the music that he played, from memory of Earth, or something he composed himself for such quiet times? As well teh second tune he played? Composer etc? With how Zecora and he was reacting, I would hope there could be little zeblets in the future sometime. I highly suspect though, lost to the ice and snow doesnt mean mountains, or even crystal empire or far north, but something more physically philosophical. Shaka. I wouldve also thought that with such emotions, Spark wouldve been kept away from MeMes hive, at least the central area and most definitely the nursery, to prevent corruption of nymphs, unless he is being taken to a place Hammerstrike and MeMe have worked on after all the injuries, heavily shielded etc, to deal with Stress, Trauma, and Depression etc? Really hope it works, Last thing you want is a suicidally depressed alicon necromancer.
Shaun in the forge is having a good time, Looks like several ideas came together to end up with a fast breeder thaumic reactor, or like SABRE or OTEC, the difference between being a pure absorber of power, and a generator of power is a very few percent indeed, but that percent makes a whole world of difference. Also, I wonder if Shaun has remembered a certain blue door in the corner, and that a certain non human sentient atemporal sealife form could be sweet on him. And then he gets to deal with Miss Noble, who really wants to be a Mrs, under duress, but who is fooling nobody, especially the Fortress crew. I mean, how many ways between Ponyville and new unity through the Everfree could she not make it in either direction? Far too many to count. Oh well, Demos can dream. Desert Dreams. I wonder if theres any Melons available.
Grask and crew are a very intresting bunch. In some ways they are being somewhat more intelligent than usual press A to hit until dead, but Im pretty sure Grask has at least a +3 backstab as well as Swim. then again, given Kingfisher/Ocelot and Albatross/Siberian Tiger
I get heavily marine based, the ones you would more expect to be Pirate kings if anything. I wonder if they realise, or dont care, or just dont know that trying to put Pensword against Grif, even in order to sway Grifs thinking, is a most unwise idea, as it shows them immediately to be what they actually are instead of the smooth politicians theyre trying to project. Im suprised at just how restrained Grif was. I was honestly expectin him to walk out of the room, the realm short of three Kings heads. that Kingfisher/Ocelot though, horrribly fast. I would suspect poisoned blades, projectiles.
For the Emporers airship, with Crystal thusters? Im afraid I keep readng its name as the Gantraptor. As in Gant Raptor. As in Firefox.
And I dont mean the web browser.
I just hope Grif has got time to find the sabotagers that Graft etc have placed on board, and the damage done to teh thrusters to cause a resonant cascade failiure on full power activation and triggering of overdrive harmonics. Wouldve been nice to have Hammerstrike there, or mabe Cory can handle the phase shift with being a Crystal pony, from destructive resonance, to second level hyperdrive resonance. Just to see Grasks face with Grantraptor goes to Ludicrous Speed.
I hope I got everything. sorry if I missed important bits out.
Dont worry about the move and delays, lets you have chats about what you want to do, what you like to do, and what side stories that others can think of but couldnt occur for another loop or so. that, and nobles hate delays if they aint the instigators.
Onward.
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Hey, Booster. To answer your question for Vital Spark, he was being followed by guards because Little Willow feared for his mental health. And the second song on were improvisation on his part, partially from the notes playing in his mind, partially from his memory of skills with the violin previously. It was essentially a blend of his emotions mixing with his magic and the music he was playing. Zecora heard the song and felt the pain behind it and came to its source. And she has spirits protecting her, so once she got to Vital Spark, he was safe, too.
This chapter... simply OUTSTANDING!
What most pleases me is how Vital Spark is attempting to deal with hos he had to take six lives during the attack. While his actions did save numerous ponies, the cost of doing so bares heavy on his soul.
That is something ALL whom have to take another life must deal with. With trained warriors, they usually have their training and experience to fall back on, and it helps with them dealing with the emotions they go through after the fight.
Those who are not warriors, but have been thrust into a situation where they are forced to kill, have a much more difficult road ahead of them. Especially when one of the Commandments within their Faith states that, "Thow shall not kill."
Vital Spark seeks absolution and forgiveness, but the one that he needs the forgiveness from the most is himself. He needs to come to terms with having to take the lives of those who attacked him and his friends, and forgive himself of his own perceived sins.
6452785 Alright then. I will.
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On behalf of the group of authors, thank you. Teal Speckles, AmericanBrony, and Shawn820 are amazing authors and I love working with them. You'll be happy to also know that in due time, these earlier chapters will be reposted with a little more fleshing out and full edits for grammar and spelling. It's just slow going for me right now because it's my final semester in college and I'm taking some difficult classes to finish up.
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Oh don't worry, they're just getting started.
Heh, they called themselves NOOB.
If only I was reading this when it came out so I could make my prediction boldly without the chance of people saying I read ahead if I am correct.
I am predicting that Vital Spark will also be trapped back in time. Not 100 years ago tho, nor on Equestria or the Griffon lands. Instead in the Zebra lands, as Zecora's brother. There's been many hits about there being trouble, or used to be trouble recently, in the Zebra lands. There was also hints of a 4th human in history over in the Zebra lands if I remember, and that was long before Vital came here. Last hit on the back of the head with the Stupid Stick was Zecora reacting when she met him and now with listening to his music.
Sorry to say Shawn, but you won't be able to protect him as much as you want.
I Get the reference in the chapter title lol