• Published 20th Nov 2017
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The Last Migration - Starscribe



When disaster forces the fierce griffins to seek shelter in Equestrian land, can two very different societies coexist? Or will the ancient enemies tear each other apart?

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Chapter 2: Conflict Resolution

To say the meeting had not gone well would be a bit of an understatement. The lords of all the great clans had been there, obeying his call. He had guessed that at least some of them would be unhappy about the promise he had made on their behalf—he had not expected an actual challenge to his authority.

But just because it wasn’t expected didn’t mean Emperor Renault wasn’t ready for it. Of all the birds who might defy him, he had even expected it to be Lord Gabriel of house Vengeance. It could only be Gabriel, the most ruthless bird in all the Accipion Empire.

Gabriel had given an impassioned speech, repeating aloud what he had only dared to whisper until then. That Gaius had not just lost his courage, but his mind. Gaius had forfeited the right to rule, and it should pass immediately to his family instead. Needless to say, that challenge had to be answered.

It was a shame, in its way. Gabriel had once been a friend. He didn’t look forward to killing him.

Scythia’s great arena was filled with birds, he could hear them even through the thick stone walls of the preparation room. A dozen of his Plumage Guard stood around the outside of the room. In the days of his ancient forefathers, they would’ve been covered from head-to-paw in glittering polished steel. But gunpowder had changed all that, made metal armor that could’ve cost the wealth of a household near useless. These days their armor was made of cloth woven from metal fibers, which could stop small bullets or even the blade of a knife.

Needless to say, the survival rate of the Plumage Guard had declined in the last few generations.

Gaius wore something similar, though the padding was somewhat thinner, more made to insulate than it was intended to stop a sword or a bullet. There were some ancient weapons that had retained their power, even through the years. The same weapons Equestria hadn’t asked them to give up. If they had, Gaius would’ve taken it as the symbol of everything Lord Gabriel had insinuated.

The doors at the far end finally opened—not the ones leading into the area, not yet. It was his wife, along with half a dozen of the latest engineering team she had trained. They pushed a heavy wooden cart between them, or rather his wife watched as her young engineers pushed it. Stored within was the reason the emperor—and the other great and powerful warriors in the empire—did not need either metal armor or firearms.

“Well, it’s as ready as it will be,” Guinevere said, stopping the cart before him. She alone the guards didn’t watch closely—her students provoked a little notice as they approached, with a few more guards moving close to him. Just in case. “You’ll want to give them a good show. No doubt Gabriel will be as prepared as we are.”

“His preparation will not save him,” Gaius said, rising from the bench, and making his way to the opening in the cart. He took the same sturdy stance he had been trained in in his youth, when his father had insisted his only son be proficient in the use of the family heirloom. The artifact could easily break the limbs of an unprepared bird who donned it too quickly. “Today is a day of punishment. I will show the other lords that disobedience will not serve them here. I will remind them why I am the emperor.”

“I’m sure you will,” Guinevere said, in a tone that just bordered on the insubordinate. It was not a voice he would’ve tolerated from anyone else. But his wife was an exception to all that. Someone needed to keep him grounded.

She moved around to the other side of the cart, along with all her engineers. The guards retreated from near the entrance, a few of them looking visibly intimidated. Such overt magic was a rare thing in Accipio, given how few magical residents lived there. None of their training or their weapons could protect them against what was trapped within the metal container. An artifact left over from a terrible time, when monsters had ravaged all the world alike.

Guinevere pulled sharply on a lever in back, and the metal door swung open. The spell leapt out, like a furious insect, filling the air with an angry buzzing. It found Gaius.

His training prepared him for this, and he had forgotten none of it despite his age. He closed his eyes, exhaled, and waited for the magic to work. It took only seconds for the armor to form around him, weighing him down enough that there was a brief strain against his legs. Dark metal in overlapping plates, like a gigantic angry turtle. It was called Voidsteel, named for the light-devouring quality of the metal, as well as its resistance to the overt magics possessed by other races (like ponies). Wearing it, Gaius was nearly a foot taller than he was without, an imposing figure that could easily break furniture or even buildings if he wasn’t careful.

A few of the engineers dropped into nervous bows as the spell was complete, though from the annoyed sounds Guinevere made it was clear that was not what she wanted of them. “I have a bit of news for you before you go out to eviscerate old Gabriel,” Guinevere said.

Within the helmet, her voice sounded louder than it might outside it, as his senses were enhanced. Not just sound, but sight, vibration, everything. The armor did not allow its wearer imperfect senses. “Go ahead.” The helmet did not muffle his voice, though he could remove it if he wished. It was, rather, enhanced, so much that he had to speak very quietly so as not to echo through the stone ceiling and be heard by every bird on this side of the stadium.

“The Equestrian has arrived. Our son has decided they would be better served by observing the event from our private box than waiting in the palace.”

The likely consequences of that decision raced through Gaius’s mind in a few nervous seconds. If he won, that would mean some sensitive pony consort watching the ruler of another nation brutally dismembering one of his colleagues. If he lost, the pony would be trapped in the proximity of a new emperor, one who had risen to power on the agenda of invading Equestria. The first thing he would probably do was kill the pony, and send their head back to Celestia as a sign of what was to come.

You couldn’t even do an invasion correctly, old friend. You care too much for bravado and remembering old defeats. “I guess I’ll have to give her a good show, then. Show her what the birds are really like.”

“Her,” Guinevere repeated. “You impress me, husband. You didn’t assume Celestia would send a male?”

“Of course not.” He walked past her, massive boots shaking the floor beneath him. The arena was one of the few places in Scythia that was built to handle the stress such armor put on a building—he would’ve shattered the paving stones of a common road. “Equestria is the placid sow to our hungry lion. I would not be surprised if fires there burned cold.”

“The reward of your strategic education astounds me as always,” Guinevere said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. But whatever else she’d been about to say didn’t make it through the sound from outside—chanting, it seemed like. Gaius’s opponent had evidently taken the field.

Gaius had to get out there, or else Gabriel might win the crowd without him even being there to answer. “Sounds like it’s time,” he said. “I hope Gabriel’s son can lead Vengeance better than his father.”

The only answer was Guinevere’s laughter as two of the Plumage Guard flung the doors open for him.

Gaius emerged into the cleared field of the arena to the sound of thunderous cheers. The arena rose around him in many tiered levels, with those possessing the most important family names near the fighting ground itself, and those of decreasing importance spread further and further out. Even the slaves had seats near the upper tiers, though he wasn’t sure how slaves would be able to see much without a bird’s sight.

Gabriel was standing in the very center of the arena, wearing Voidsteel armor just as Gaius was. Every artifact was unique in some minor way—Gabriel’s had a spiny ridge running down the back, as well as glowing red eyes. The voice of his enemy boomed through the arena, proclaiming how Gaius had sold the whole empire into slavery, how he would see the ponies put silver collars on even the highest birds. How the ancient enemy was decadent and weak, ripe to be conquered.

Gaius let him talk—another Clan Lord had that right, though he did march slowly to meet him in the center of the arena. His own Plumage Guard filed behind him, three solid ranks now. Fifty of its hundred members were here. He imagined they were in for a frustrating few minutes, considering how little opportunity they would have to protect him.

Eventually Gabriel finished blustering, and Gaius himself stepped forward. His own armor had one advantage Gabriel’s lacked—its unique trait was the wings, which could lift it into the air and fly as fast as any bird. So far as he knew, it was the only set of Voidsteel in all the world that could enable its wearer to fly. It would belong to Clan Vengeance if he lost today.

Gaius hovered twenty meters or so in the air, trusting his guards to warn him if Gabriel decided to begin the bout early. By sacred law, they could not raise a claw to protect him, though their firearms would’ve done no good against Gabriel even if they did. “Lord Gabriel has offered you one path, Birds of Accipio! Vengeance has always been quick to remember our failures, and slow to see wisdom. If it were up to him, some of you would still be starving, because we held too tightly to the memories of our ancient methods of farming. Your soldiers would still be fighting with their claws, because we were too foolish to educate our wise and use their gifts.

“The time of another great change is coming. We cannot ignore the fire rising from below, and we cannot stop it. We also cannot fight two wars at once. Accipio must devote itself completely to surviving nature’s assault. If we split our forces, divide our resources between confronting the Equestrians and the natural threats assailing us, we will be defeated on both fronts. For the sake of every bird, for the sake of our great conquests and triumphs together, we must proceed in cooperation with Equestria.”

“You see?” Gabriel interrupted from below. His voice was exactly as loud as Gaius’s, but somehow the crowd seemed to be listening closer to him anyway. It was also against the rules. “He would see all of you turned into a gelded parody of yourselves! Gaius would build another Griffonstone!”

Trying to hold Gabriel to the strict letter of the code today would only strengthen his rival’s case that Gaius had grown too weak, and no longer trusted in his own strength. “I will not!” he countered, and abruptly he stopped flapping his wings. The armor dropped straight down, less than two meters away from Gabriel. The other bird retreated, apparently unable to judge the course Gaius would fall.

The armor caught the impact, reverberating through the stadium like a bird striking a gong. Gaius spoke into the silence that followed, his voice echoing from all around them. “It is not brave to fight a war we cannot win, no matter how justified. If you follow Gabriel, you will follow him to your deaths. We must face the enemy beneath our claws together. Equestria is a mighty enemy, a worthy adversary. But if we do not secure a future for our children first, it will not matter.”

“We will see,” Gabriel called. “Let all the honored birds among us bear witness! Our claws will decide what path Accipio will take.”

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