Chapter 13: Cultural Exchange
It was as though Gilda had spent an entire lifetime blind. The monastery was an assault on her senses—so many strange and interesting things that she was unable to process them at once.
It was divided into several buildings, built much more sturdily than many of the makeshift houses outside. There were no tents here, only sturdy wooden fortifications and burrows that were deeper and wider than most earth ponies could dig.
Her escort took her first to a small outbuilding, where she left all her clothing and possessions and donned a plain white wrap. For the first time since arriving in this city, there was no small army of servants waiting inside, no creatures of any kind who were not birds. “Where are all the… other things?” Gilda asked her escort, whose name she had learned was Garth.
“None who are unclean may walk the sacred ground of this monastery,” he said. “The other races have their own faiths, and we do not interfere with them. The zebra listen to the Old Spirits, Equestrians worship their Alicorns. We follow a different path.”
“What path is that?” Gilda asked, as they made their way into a small stone building. Plants surrounded it—flowers in blue and gold, that sparkled strangely in the sunlight. Inside, the air was filled with incense, so thick that she could barely see across the gloom.
“Perfection,” Garth answered. “Our ancestors demand we make use of the lives they won for us. Their souls watch over the path of every bird now. They demand sacrifice of those who live, but what they want most of all is to see that we have made something of ourselves. The only sin in their eyes is submission.”
They stopped in the center of the room. Gilda could see half a dozen monks wearing robes like hers, though the cloth was much darker. The sound of glass chipping came from all around the room, echoing off the worktables. She saw the windows a second later—they were scenes, like those she’d read about in Canterlot Castle. But while the ponies doubtless had something cute, these were scenes of victory—brave birds wielding bloody swords, standing alone against a horde of enemies. In one, a tide of indistinct monsters fell away before a single triumphant bird in armor that made him look nearly twice his size.
In another, she could see the spires of a city, taller and prouder than anything she’d ever seen in Equestria.
Griffonstone does that a lot, she thought, swallowing. “I, uh…” She lowered her voice. “I don’t mean to be rude, Garth, but… the ancestors. Do birds actually… believe that stuff? Do you really think the souls of dead birds are up there somewhere? Or… is that more of a metaphor?”
The monk’s expression was hard to read. He hurried her from the workshop, so fast that she only barely managed to see what the other birds inside were doing, working on tiny bits of colored glass, chipping them away according to paper outlines in front of them. He stopped her outside the building. “I see you have come from far away,” Garth said. “I don’t think any other bird would question what is plainly known by all. Where did you come from?”
“Griffonstone,” Gilda said. “I’m not trying to be a jerk about it. I’m just curious. Where I grew up… I don’t think anyone believed in anything. Except themselves.”
Garth nodded sadly. “Selfishness is so easy to confuse with self-interest. It is an easy mistake for birds to make. I’m guessing the Order of Unity is not very strong there.”
She looked away, not relishing how he might react. “It doesn’t exist. We don’t know very much about… how we used to be. The oldest birds I knew would sometimes tell stories about how the ponies tried to make us weak, how they’d never give in… except they had. We were weak. The most we ever do is win the Equestria Games.”
Garth nodded again. “Walk with me, Gilda.”
She did—through the garden of strange flowers, which grew quite well in Equestria’s soil. As they walked, Gilda realized the garden wasn’t just filled with plants—there were monuments here, obelisks ranging from a foot tall to big enough to tower over her, in many shades of dark stone. There was a little stand mounted to the front of many of them, and from a few, little sticks of incense quietly smoldered.
“We remember our past, Gilda. There are many stories of ancient emperors—birds of power who crossed the Styx into Elysium to consult with our victorious dead. But you don’t have to believe in any of that to know the ancestors are watching us. They are, because they must be. They give birds the power to excel in whatever calling they desire. They fill the body with strength to face terrible enemies, or sharpen the mind to create marvelous works of art.”
“They weren’t doing any of that in Griffonstone,” Gilda said, before she could stop herself. “We haven’t made much of anything since I’ve been alive. The whole city is barely holding itself together. The palace is half covered with moss that nobody scrapes off. Our king died ages ago, and we never got a new one.”
Garth turned away from her, bowing to the nearest of the monuments for a few seconds. He spoke very reverently when he continued. “Do not blame the ancestors whose way you refused to walk. They expect us to be strong, Gilda. They expect us to take what we want. They expect us to improve ourselves until we are strong enough. And sometimes, they expect us to die.”
Gilda didn’t argue with him. It did seem to her like a rather self-fulfilling religion. If the only thing the faith asked of its followers was success, and for worship it required them to learn the skills they would need to be successful, then of course its followers would succeed! But then again, maybe that was what Griffonstone needed.
Garth didn’t interrupt her thoughts for another few minutes. “There are those among my order who have been granted vision of the world beyond. Those with higher offices—the emperor, the clan lords—many of them have seen these things as well. If you ever have the chance to meet one of them, you could ask. Hear an eyewitness’s account.”
“Maybe I will,” Gilda said, though she couldn’t hide how doubtful she felt from her voice. The odds of meeting a bird that important seemed slim—and the odds that she would have the guts to call their region false in front of them were far smaller. In a way, it wasn’t that different from what the ponies did. They didn’t worship the princesses. If they had any religion at all, it was friendship.
“I think the problem with Griffonstone is that we lost our identity,” Gilda eventually said. “Equestria took it away from us, tried to give us theirs. But we didn’t want it. Most birds I try to make friends with the pony way would rather just say something rude, or maybe even try to fight me. What could I do if I wanted to…” She gestured around at the monastery. “What do you do here, anyway? Aside from worshiping the ancestors.”
“We teach birds who wish to improve themselves,” Garth said. “This is Kios, current capital of house Vengeance. The house maintains some of the greatest masters in every craft. Tactics, war, carpentry, poetry, chemistry… every skilled pursuit you can imagine. The ancestors demand perfection, but they do not ask it all at once. We must perfect what we can—we will learn the rest eventually. If not in this life, then the next.” He started walking again, leading her out of the garden and towards the largest, center building.
“I think… I think it would be good if the birds I knew had a chance at something like this. Lots of them don’t even work, they just forage for enough food to survive, living in rotting houses and gossiping about each other. It would be nice to bring them back some purpose.” Not for her—Gilda liked where she was, more lately than ever. The pony way had grown on her—she liked making friends instead of fighting, and the idea of slavery terrified her. But the others… maybe they could copy the good without imitating the bad.
“You wouldn’t have to carry that burden alone, Gilda.” Garth sped up, leading her towards the large building. She could hear voices inside—voices raised in song. It was strange and discordant, not belonging to any pony school of music she had learned. The birds seemed to be using only their own voices—it was mesmerizing. “When I spoke of a chance to meet one of the clan lords, I was not being merely hopeful. Santiago, Clan Lord of Vengeance, is just through there. He comes at the same time every day to burn offerings to his father. Yet… if we wait just outside, you might be able to speak with him when he emerges. Explain the state of Griffonstone to him—with his permission, we might be able to send skilled masters to teach there. Do you think the birds of Griffonstone would want that?”
Gilda didn’t have long to consider, but she didn’t need it. “So long as they don’t bring an army too. We’ve… since the volcano thing, we’ve worried that Equestria would take our land away, fill it with birds from the old homeland. So long as it doesn’t look like you’re trying to take over, you can come.”
Garth smiled knowingly. “An understandable fear. But no… the Equestrian treaty forbids soldiers from leaving our territory except as the personal guards to our leaders. These birds would be… like me, like my brothers and sisters here. Experts in their craft, to teach birds who came to learn and improve themselves. That’s it.”
“That sounds awesome,” Gilda said, before she could stop herself. “But… aren’t the clan lords, like, really important? I don’t want to get in trouble. What if I said something stupid?” She’d sure done enough of that during her time in Equestria, no matter how hard the ponies had tried to teach her otherwise.
“It wouldn’t be anything to worry about,” said another voice, from on the porch of the building. Gilda looked up and saw a single bird standing there, wearing a white robe just like hers. She was immediately struck with just how handsome he was—his muscles were barely contained in that thick wrap, and despite the smell of a recent bath there was a musk to him that threatened to confuse her senses. Those eyes were the worst of all—a predator, one who was accustomed to getting what he wanted. Yet for all that, he didn’t seem much like a “clan lord,” whatever that was. He was just a finer specimen than Griffonstone had to offer. “Just say what you’re feeling. Though our labors are different in life, we are all equal before the ancestors. Just as we are equal in death.”
Gilda swallowed, feeling the weight of his eyes on her. “Y-you are…”
“Clan Lord Santiago,” he repeated, smiling. “Yes.” He stepped down out of the building. Several monks were attending him—though at a single flick of his wings, they all backed away. Even Garth, bowing once to her as he retreated. “Tell me what it is you want, visitor.” He approached, sitting down beside her. So close, he was almost within reach. “I know where you came from. Voices whispered it to me. What is it you want?”
The same robes, the same feathers, Gilda could almost believe what he had said about birds being equals in the monastery. A strange thought, after living with ponies her whole life. No ageless princess could pretend to be an equal with her subjects, even if she was a friend.
“This,” she said, gesturing around at the monastery. “Griffonstone needs purpose. We don’t have magic of our own, we don’t have wealth… even with as much land as we have, I don’t know if we’re going to survive the famine. But if we had a monastery like this… teachers… someone to give birds direction. Maybe then we could. That’s why they sent me here. I bought books, but… I don’t think books will be enough.”
Clan Lord Santiago grinned at her. “Clan Vengeance happily accepts your invitation, Gilda. I will send the resources to build a fine monastery in Griffonstone, and all the teachers your city needs. Why don’t you come with me back to the palace? We can work out the details over dinner.”
It was all Gilda could do to nod.
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So, are they planning to turn Griffonstone into an unofficial outpost in Equestrian territory?
Welp, should've figured this guy would come back to mess things up eventually. And Gilda's falling right for it thanks to some weird combination of idealism and hormones.
...so they're foils for Starlight and Velar.
And as soon as I read that, I knew this would end up bad.
And as soon as I read that I knew this was gonna turn out worse.
8704425
To be fair, this entire situation is very predatory in nature, and Gilda is clearly the prey. That makes my mind go to some dark places that I really don't like thinking of, but considering the nature of how griffon society works for them...well, I think Gilda's about to get a very nasty lesson.
Was a little concerned at first with Gilda since should be post reunion with RD. But now I fear for her. Trying to help her people but asking the wrong clan for. I am seeing Swastikas now.
I may be pre-judging this situation, but this feels like a radicalization metaphor. Or maybe just straight-up example.
Voices, sure. So, Clan Vengeance was who was spying on her in the previous chapter?
Gilda doesn't understand yet that the purpose she gives Griffonstone would be to become a stepping stone. The new birds from the empire are going to step on you to lift themselves up, as they have done again and again and again. You're not their equals and you never will be. You're tools.
It remains to be seen if this religion really is any different from the rampant selfishness infesting Griffonstone. So far, I am not convinced.
8714751
Sounds about right. Some may even trick themselves into thinking they're doing Griffonstone a favour.
8714905
8715091
That's the tension, sure. But Gilda's vision is clear: "Take the good and keep the bad out." She's already plotting to resist that of their help which she deems not in her people's best interest. That mission is just ... bigger than she thinks. Will she be blinded by infatuation? Maybe, but that requires Clan Lord Santiago to actually camp his keister in Griffonstone.
In short, Gilda just started a war for the soul of Griffonstone, and she has a crush on the enemy. But ... that doesn't mean she can't crush him
8715448
The thing is, Clan Vengeance wants a strong tool, and Griffonstone is weak. Gilda wants the strong, without the tool. Will she get it? It wouldn't be the first time a client state threw off the yoke, especially with the help of a friend.
8715545
Well, they want a powerful tool, not necessarily a strong one. As you explained, being strong may give them the strength not to let themselves be pulled into the morass of selfishness and hubris that is the empire. I fear most Griffons in Griffonstone are weak, though—weak of will.
In fact, I strongly doubt the Griffonstonies would still live in such squalor if, at any point, they'd gotten over themselves and tried to be part of Equestria. Instead they outlawed parties, and singing, and only barely have not yet outlawed cheer. It's not like ponies are interfering much in how they run the place, they had no idea about what was going on there. The only real thing the ponies did was not letting themselves be conquered and enslaved.
8715545
here's the key. Griffonstone is not bound by the treaties limiting the Imeprials. Teach a Griffonstone griffon how to make a firearm and you have gone around the treaty. attack Equestria from Griffonstone is likely the plan here.
8714957
People don't get notifications for replies on separate chapters.
This is a mistake. Don't do it. Churches are always the forbears of conquest
Don't do it Gilda! Bail, bail!
Excellent chapter.
8715596
That's a good distinction. But, like I said, Gilda has her own plans, and I have a feeling she is shaping up to be a charismatic leader of Griffonstone. Her admiration of Santiago is not likely to go unnoticed so I think they will try to cultivate her as the local leader (under their leadership). The question is whether she can (1) get wise to Vengeance's true agenda (hint: look at the name) and (2) win, as I put it, the "war for the soul of Griffonstone". Maybe not—on either count.
8715953
She could be, yes. The Griffonstone Griffons are not as hopeless as all the other birds and most of themselves think. Gilda has changed, Gabby has changed, even Greta seemed to open up with a taste of true friendship. Literally.
It's entirely possible Gilda will find a better interpretation of the empire birds' own faith. One where to better yourself does not mean tearing others down, and raising yourself up does not mean standing on the shoulders of slaves. The ponies won't mind. They'll be happy for them. Something the empire Griffons won't. They have no interest in sharing happiness.
Oh, this sounds familiar: If you succeed, it's only because {Insert Supernatural Being} helped you. If you fail, it's entirely your fault.
Gilda, you should turn your back on that garbage before it's too late. The fruit of that tree may look tasty, but it's all toxic.
Ok, now we have potentially risky thing's starting up among griffin's. Will we see soon something similar on ponies side? U know; multiple perspectives and all that.
Hmm. So, the impression I'm getting here is that Gilda is trying to create a new culture for Griffonstone -- something drawing on, but distinct from, Accipio's. She wants her city to be strong and her people to be united and to have pride in themselves again, and she feels the best way to do this is to draw on historical griffon culture, but she doesn't want to turn Griffonstone into Little Accipio any more than she wants to turn it into Little Equestria.
Now, what's going to be interesting is how she's going to try to take the good while leaving the out the bad, as she puts it. I can see there being a fair few facets of Accipian culture -- like the slavery, the warmongering and the rampant aggression towards other cultures -- she'd prefer to keep at arms' length. But the Accipian griffons she's inviting in -- especially since it's Vengeance, of all clans she could have ended up with -- will think all that stuff is great, too, and will want to push it as much as ever other aspect of their culture.
And of course there's the fact that Lord Santiago and Vengeance as a whole are going to have their ulterior motives for Griffonstone. With how breezily even Velar has been talking about conquering Equestria if the opportunity presents itself, I doubt very much that Clan Vengeance does not have plans to grab power and land the way they like best -- and a city of sympathetic griffons adhering to Accipian culture would be a very good starting point for that.
Hoo boy. This won't end well. At all. Of all the Houses whose territory she had to fly into...
Ooh nice.
Can't wait to see how this will end. More importantly if Gilda will get a sexy husband.
Isn't Santiago "bad" in some way?
Curious as to how.
8720942
Ditto.
Also "the guts to call their region false in front of them were far smaller. I"
You mean religion?
Also I had the idea that after Griffinstone Gilda and Griffinstone were much better at the friendship thing.
This COULD end well, but I do not see that happening. Perhaps I was partially wrong about letting ALL the gryphons die. Everyone deserves to know the history of their people, to learn from it, disseminate the information, sift through it and determine what is good to keep and what is good to learn to never do again. I am sad that Gilda landed in the lands of the worst of the worst. That influence is never going anywhere good.
Oh shit. Vengeance. Literally the single worst House she could end up in the patronage of.