Wings of Iron: The Sphigyptian Affair

by TheGMan

Chapter 1: Foreign Affairs

“By 998, the balance of power in Sphigypt, already frail by the end of the Southern Campaign, was on the verge of crashing down. The Manehattan Summer Summit in the same year had miserably failed to reach a favourable solution, not in small part by the constant disinterest shown by the Kingdom of Owlstria’s representative in taking any position on the issue of unification. The representative from Akhri, on the other hoof, took the chance to reaffirm the independence of the Free Republic from the Pharaoh’s authority, as well as to renew its friendship with Owlstria. However, that did not prevent the latter from continuing the already programmed military withdrawal from the region, reducing its garrisons along the river Nilus even further; in the meantime, the sphinxes would continue on with the build-up of their respective forces during the following months.”

“These events would, as expected, spark a deadly fire across the entire continent.”

– From The Sphigyptian Affair, by Storm Chaser, former colonel of the 2^ndFlying Lances Pegasus Regiment and military history professor at the Cloudsdale Academy.

Free Republic of Akhri,

City of Kaska . . .

“You are cheating.”

The griffon didn’t bother with a response. His claw went for the nearby teapot and he proceeded to refill a ceramic cup. He raised it and took a sip, sweet liquid rushing down his throat. Then, as he observed the game board before him, Blackwing allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction, which he then proceed to suppress just as quickly as it had appeared.

“If I didn’t know you better, I would have mistaken you for a sore loser, Naqib Leys,” he drawled.

Something resembling a growl came out of Ley’s throat. He was a brown-furred sphinx, a little shorter than average, with his mane weaved into many long braids and fastened by red and blue laces, as per local custom. He did not wear his armour, though a well-built physique and the many scars on his body gave no illusion about his dangerousness.

Blackwing kept a polite smile. He leaned back in his seat and scratched idly at the pitch-black feathers on the back of his head, the only patch of real colour amidst pale, greyish fur.

“In all seriousness though,” he added, keeping his tone friendly, “how am I supposed to cheat? This isn’t even a card game.”

“Maybe you should simply face the fact that you’re not that good,” he wondered, loud enough for Ley to hear.

The sphinx glared at him once more, his lips slowly peeling back. Blackwing caught the shimmer of sharp white teeth, but he never broke eye contact, matching Ley’s irate expression of with a cold smile of his own.

Baring their fangs to one another was something sphinxes did quite often, especially if young males. It wasn’t just a simple challenge but also a show of force between two opponents and a chance to measure strength. They would hardly come to blows, though; eventually one of the two would have to back down and concede the dispute to his adversary.

However, in many more cases that was just a last gesture of defiance, a way for a proud sphinx to save face when being on the losing side.

Unsurprisingly, this would prove to be the latter, as Ley’s expression seemed to finally relax. He let out a half-hearted sigh.

“Fine, I guess you’re right.” He added in a somewhat apologetic tone, “Sorry for that. The work is driving me half crazy.”

Blackwing nodded. A proud sphinx indeed. “It's the same here, I'm afraid.” He gestured at the teapot. “Tea?”

Ley shot a glance to the empty cup in front of him, then shrugged. “Aye, that would be nice.”

He barely waited for Blackwing to finish before his paws went at the newly filled cup, lifting it to his mouth and gulping it down unceremoniously.

“I wish I knew why I keep on playing this game with you, griffon,” he said, setting the cup back down on the desk. “A more sensible sphinx would have stopped by now.”

“You must really love to lose, don’t you, Ley?”

“You can smile all you want, but one these days I’m going to wipe that smug look off your face, Menhit smite me if I don’t!” he announced, his tail slowly swinging back and forth from behind his seat.

Blackwing arched an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I keep hearing a lot of bold words coming out of your mouth. I take it then you’d like a rematch?”

Ley chuckled. “That would be the third game in a row.” He shook his head. “I think I’ll pass for today.”

“Really now? Has your goddess already abandoned you?”

Ley shrugged. “Even if she had ‒ and I do not believe it for a second ‒ it doesn't matter that much. We have dozens of them, while you-”

“- have only one and we have to stick with Him, I know,” Blackwing conceded.

The banter went on for another hour. After they’d emptied what remained inside the teapot, Blackwing managed to drag the reluctant Naqib into another game. Unsuprisingly, he didn’t fare much better.

After watching his air forces being swatted out of the imaginary sky once again, Ley finally had enough and called it a day.

“I’m afraid it’s time for me to head back to the barracks,” he explained, tilting his head towards the nearby clock, as if to emphasize the fact that he was giving up only because so was demanded by his duty. “The Civic Cohort tends to get restless when I’m not keeping an eye on them.”

Blackwing nodded, fighting to keep down a grin, although a quick glance made him realize the hour. Given the circumstances, he found himself agreeing with Ley. Terms like restless and Civic Cohort meant a lot of things when paired together, most of them surely illegal. Of course, he kept that to himself.

There was a loud knock at the door. It swung open as Lieutenant Nebula, an orange-coated, red-maned unicorn mare, stepped in and marched up briskly to the desk. She wore her usual green uniform, the officer cap sitting on her head and angled so to keep her horn free.

“Good afternoon, captain,” Nebula saluted smartly. Her horn glowed pale red as an aura of telekinesis unbuckled her saddlebag, revealing a conspicuous bundle of documents inside. She pulled them out and dropped them in front of the griffon.

“Second Lieutenant Whitepeak has completed the review of our stock. It requires your signature.”

Blackwing sighed. “I’m with a guest right now, lieutenant. Can’t you sign it yourself?”

“I’m afraid not. She was very specific about that detail, sir,” Nebula said. “She stated, and I quote, that the documents required the signature of the commanding CO.”

Blackwing raised an eyebrow. “That’s nonsense, lieutenant. I don’t deal with logistics. Tell her to send it to the quartermaster.”

“So I told her, sir, but she declined all my attempts to see reason.” Her tone was ice cold as ever.

“Remind me to have a talk with her later, would you?” he almost scowled. By Talos, was that griffoness enjoying being a pain in the arse?

“Of course, sir. Should I also have your blade sharpened for the occasion?”

Blackwing made a scene of thinking about it. Despite her cold and stoic demeanour, he was sure Nebula had a sense of humour buried somewhere underneath it. Or so he hoped.

“I thank you for the suggestion, lieutenant, but that won’t be necessary. I still need her for the paperwork.”

While the two were busy discussing the matter, Ley had rose from his seat and was now doing his best to hide an amused smile. He muttered something in Sphigyptian before saying, “Seems like you have your own share of work. I’ll leave you to it.” He moved for the door, then he turned back one last time. “Next week at the same hour, then?”

Blackwing was already sorting through the papers, scribbling down his signature as he went. He gave the sphinx a slight nod. “As always. Have a good evening.”

Ley’s response came as another slip of his native tongue before he made his way out, closing the door behind him. As it clacked into place, Blackwing’s pen stopped, hovering just over the paper.

He looked up from his seat and waited for a few more seconds to be sure. Then, once the sound of Ley’s paws had faded away, he set the pen aside, took the paper in his claws and crumpled it with a sigh.

The silence was broken by Nebula’s voice. “In case you were wondering, sir, he said-”

“I know what he said, lieutenant,” Blackwing growled, all his previous manners gone. A deep scowl replaced the previous smile. He tossed the paper in a nearby garbage can. “I wonder if he kisses his mother with that muzzle too.” He leaned back in his seat and cast an idle look around.

His office was rather small, occupied by a desk and a pair of chairs, as well as a modest wardrobe in one corner, mirrored by a much larger bookcase in the opposite one. His personal coat lay behind the desk, just beneath the open window. The last one was a necessary arrangement given the night air.

All considered, it wasn’t that bad; if the typical gossip among the ranks held any truth – and that was a big if – the barracks were even worse.

He glanced at the garbage can, before turning his attention at the mare still standing to his side. “Please Nebula, ask Lieutenant Whitepeak to send me another one. If she says anything, tell her the original got displaced or something.”

“No need, sir,” she stated evenly. “I always ask for additional copies just for these cases.”

Blackwing smiled. He never had had much patience with paperwork, and that was even before he got stuck behind a desk. It wasn’t that he didn’t do his job properly, but rather that any document in his possession had an unusually high chance of getting lost, most of the time under a pile of similar ones.

To her credit, Lieutenant Nebula had adapted rather quickly by requesting for anything important to be sent in multiple copies. Especially if unpleasant ones. Having her at his side had been one of the few positive aspects of this assignment.

He doubted though Whitepeak would have approved. Then again, Second Lieutenant Koralia Whitepeak disapproved of anything that didn’t followed military protocol to the letter.

In hindsight, that also explained why Quartermaster Nikolas had been so eager to get rid of her; nobody wanted around a griffoness fresh from academy who presumed she could do a better job that yours because of her full marks. He would have probably laughed himself to death once he got wind of under whose command she had ended up with. Blackwing had sworn to pull the griffon’s neck as soon as the opportunity arise.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Nebula clearing her throat. “May I speak freely, sir?”

He arched a quizzical eyebrow before nodding in response.

“This,” she gestured with a hoof around the room, “is probably the most reckless and irresponsible thing I ever seen in all my military career. And that’s setting aside the fact that an officer is taking a direct part in it.”

Blackwing kept himself from rolling his eyes in frustration. He was confident they had finally set that issue aside. Apparently not.

“As I said before, lieutenant, if you have reservation on the matter, feel free to resign your post.” In truth, he really hoped not; she made the prospect of dealing with paperwork a lot less terrifying.

His claw went for one piece of the game board, a wooden replica of a rearing pegasus hussar, its wing flared. He lifted it as to take a closer look. It was well-made for sure, furnished with a lance, light cuirass, and even a finely adorned helmet.

He almost pitied the fact that the real ones had long since stopped wearing that outfit, as it was considered nowadays nothing more than a magnet for bullets; the details on the crest were simply marvellous.

“I think you worry too much.” Blackwing said.

“I was under the impression that was my job.”

He chuckled. “Fine, let’s assume for a moment you’re right, then. Let’s take it for granted that the Cohort was to notice something, which would imply they managed to get their heads out of their collective backsides. What do you think they’ll do then, lieutenant?”

Seeing as she didn’t answer, Blackwing went on. “True, they may outnumber us, but when push comes to shove, I’m convinced than most of them would rather keep themselves at a safe distance from Owlstrian soldiers. Hell, from any real soldier for that matter. Militias are not famous for discipline or showing initiative.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” he added, “we technically have the law on our side.”

“Last time I checked, the Sphigyptian Code of Law isn’t worth much.”

The griffon scoffed. “I was talking about the one that counts, lieutenant. The Owlstrian law.”

“The colonel won’t like it,” she continued. “And neither will the brass in Akhri if they catch wind of it.”

“Well, that’s hardly something new, right? I guess we’ll have just to keep the matter to ourselves then.”

“And what about the Naqib?” Nebula asked. “He’ll be furious too.”

Blackwing shrugged. He soon wished to not have done so, as pain exploded anew in his back and wings.

He cursed silently, both at the pain and at himself. There was a reason after all if Last Aid had prescribed him those painkillers. He kept the painful grimace hidden.

“By the time he manages to get those thugs back together there won’t be much he can do. And yes, he will be furious.”

That was in truth what bothered him the most. He found it comical somehow, especially considering all those who would have found themselves, for one reason or the other, rightly enraged by his actions. Some of them were his superiors, but Blackwing had been dealing with them for a long time now. Ley was another matter entirely.

From the moment he had set pawn in Kaska, he had found little difference between the numerous smuggler gangs in the Riverside and the local civic cohort. On closer look, the law enforcers were just a different gang, one than wore uniforms and acted little differently.

Kaska had once been an economic hub on the river Nilus, but the civil war’s aftermath had seen its wealth plummet, with the public order following suit.

Ley was of a different cloth, and probably the reason why the city council had given him them rank of Naquib in the first place, as well as the command of what remained of the Civic Cohort. They wanted order in the streets and a sphinx willing to take the post, one who wasn’t scared of cracking a few heads on the way.

Meanwhile, Ley had fought in the last war and had quite some experience on his shoulders but, like many others, had found himself without an occupation. It hadn’t taken him too much thinking before signing himself up.

Blackwing begrudgingly had to admit that Ley knew how to do his job, even if his method might have been a bit crude.

That moved his features into something resembling a grin. He had come to almost respect that sphinx, his hideous manners aside. He would have never said that to his face though.

Blackwing set the small figurine back on the board, making sure to not let his face betray any of his emotions. He had already made his choice weeks ago and there was no point in backing down now. He doubted though there would be any next week.

“Well, if you still want to go ahead against any reasonable judgement,” Nebula said, breaking the silence, “it would set a bad example for the troops if I were not to follow you blindly over the edge of a cliff.”

Blackwing opened his beak to retort but found nothing coming out. He wondered if that was supposed to be sarcasm of her part. Knowing Nebula, it probably wasn’t.

“Your concern for my safety is heart-breaking, lieutenant,” he said simply. “Did you remember to give our teams the green signal?”

The unicorn mare nodded. “Just an hour ago.”

“Then I believe they’ll finish shortly.”

Nebula was about to leave before stopping suddently in the doorframe. “Oh, and another thing, sir.” She turned to pull out an additional document from the saddlebag. “I think you should take a look at this dispatch. It’s from Battalion HQ and has Major Longbow’s own signature.”

Blackwing took the paper. By the time his eyes reached the end of the brief message, his somewhat good mood had been crushed under a locomotive.

“Oh, for Talos’s sake…”

---

Meanwhile, in the Riverside District . . .

“. . . is really that hard to follow a bloody map?”

“Look who’s talking!” Corporal Helena spat back. “If I recall, taking the longer route was your idea!”

Gerus sighed. “Wrong. It was the captain who said to keep our deployment as secret as possible. That’s why we’re using side-streets rather than the main thoroughfares and why we have a map in the first place.” His beak twisted into a vicious grin. “I thought than even you could not screw up something that simple. My compliments for proving me wrong.”

A slender griffoness sporting a vivid red plumage, Helena Icewind narrowed her eyes. If stares could kill, then Corporal Gerus Mudclaw, a robust-looking griffon covered in dark-brown feathers, should have been dead years ago. She opened her beak and readied another much more colourful tirade on him. She never got the chance.

“Shut it. Now.”

The two griffons froze, a gesture soon followed by every other creature in their group. They all turned to eye warily the sand-coated, yellow-maned earth pony standing right in front of them. The pins of sergeant major were visible on his uniform’s shoulder.

“I’ll let both of you dumbasses know,” Bronze Tail hissed, “that this is a military operation, not a fucking kindergarten!”

He turned his attention to the others, two sections of ponies as well as griffons, and spoke in the same tone. “The same goes for you all. Put in those tiny brains of yours that break’s over, and that we have a job to do.”

Every creature nodded, Helena and Gerus included, their faces now turning suddenly professional. At least twenty green-clad Owlstrian soldiers stood in the small side street, each one of them sporting a Crystal Rifle at their side.

The air felt hot and humid despite being many hours past midday, forcing them to take shelter within the shadow of a nearby wall. Sweat stains soaking their uniforms, the soldiers were silently thanking Talos for the unexpected stop. It had given them the chance to rest and take a much-needed sip out of their canteens.

After throwing a last glance around, Bronze Tail turned to the griffoness. “Corporal Icewind, are we anywhere near the meeting point?”

“I believe so, Sarge,” she answered readily. “Just a few blocks away, as matter of fact.”

Bronze Tail nodded. There was still a chance to be on schedule, if everything went smoothly. The last was a fat chance for sure, but he liked to think of himself as a positive stallion.

“Then let’s get on the move,” he said. “We don’t want Rusty to wait any longer, do we?”

Helena wasted no time, and after barking a quick command her section was back on their paws – or hooves – and ready to move. Gerus and his own weren’t any less quick, and in less than a minute the half-strength platoon continued its march down the street and through the Riverside.

That wasn’t obviously the district’s official name, but considering that even those with a grasp of Sphygptian found it unpronounceable, they had all settled for a more conventional one. Its inhabitant, mostly ponies and zebra, got their livings out of the Nilus river either as fishermen or working for the local riverboat mail companies, which also explained the relative high number of taverns and inn, as well as the copious amounts of cheap alcohol to be found around.

The group draw quite the attention on itself as it moved on. It was hard to miss a group of armed figures in green uniforms moving around, and the streets were still bustling with activity. The locals, being them ponies, zebras or even the occasional sphinx, choose wisely to steer clear of them, tossing the occasional glare in their general direction before moving back to their business. The soldiers marched on undisturbed.

Bronze Tail kept himself from smiling. Under ordinary circumstances their uniforms would have been kaki to blend better with the environment. In peacekeeping operation within occupied cities instead, the old green ones had proven invaluable to keep order and had been reissued to all garrisons.

He thought it had something to do with their intimidating effect. Sphigyptians on this side of the Nilus could laugh all they wanted at the official soldiers of the Free Republic of Akhri, but no creature with a functioning brain would have messed with the boys in green. They had learned at their own expense that Owlstrians soldiers and gendarmes had little patience to begin with.

Bronze Tail brought the two sections to a halt near a seemingly casual intersection. Corporal Rusty Blade’s own section was already there, together with at least a dozen ponies and a couple of griffons from the Royal Gendarmerie, all wearing dark blue peacoats.

They were somewhat akin to Equestrian Military Police, although their duties were more varied - a bit murky even - bordering the fields of counterintelligence and anti-insurgency. The only sure thing was that they had enough resources to put the Owlstrian National Police to shame.

Bronze Tail saw a pair of uniformed figures approaching. The first one was a white-coated earth pony mare, her tail and mane both turquoise and cropped short. Just like any other soldier present, Corporal Rusty Blade wore the usual green-and-black uniform, the Owlstrian military insignia – a pair of crossed spears held by a griffon and a pony, all outlined by a shield’s profile ‒ emblazoned on her forage cap.

The second figure was an earth pony too, specifically a grey-coated, white-maned stallion with a well-trimmed and thick moustache. He wore a dark-blue peacoat with a pair of golden bars on his shoulder pads.

“Took you long enough, sarge,” Rusty Blade said as soon as the two had come within earshot. She was grinning now. “I’d begun to wonder if we had to go ahead all on our own.”

Bronze Tail shrugged. “What can I say, corporal? I love sightseeing. But they should really put a sign or two around.”

He turned to the stallion and tilted his cap in acknowledgment. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced. Sergeant Major Bronze Tail, 3^rd Company, 2^nd Battalion. The two feathered heads behind me are Corporal Helena Icewind and Corporal Gerus Mudclaw,” he waved a hoof at each in turn. “We’ve heard you were about to crack a hornets’ nest open, so we thought to join you.”

The gendarme eyed them for a moment before nodding in satisfaction. He raised a hoof and the two exchanged a shake with their fetlocks. “A pleasure to meet you, gentlecolts,” he spoke in a deep, quiet tone. “Sergeant Stockade, at your service. I trust you’ve all been briefed on the situation?”

“Unless it has changed recently, yes, we have.”

“In that case, we should move out as soon as we can.” He reached with a hoof inside of his peacoat and produced a handkerchief to wipe his forehead with. Droplets of sweats were glittering on his grey fur. “Corporal Rusty, would you please tell the others to get ready?”

Rusty Blade nodded. “I’ll pass the word around.” She fixed her attention to the two griffons and grinned. “I’m curious to see from what kind of mess I’ll have to drag you two out this time.” Having said that, she turned and trotted back to her section, denying Helena the satisfaction of giving her the sourest stare the griffoness could master. Gerus, for his part, kept his usual stoic expression.

Bronze Tail waited for her to be out of earshot before speaking to the gendarme. “By the way,” he all but whispered to him, “my apologies for the delay. We got a bit lost on our way here.”

To his credit, Stockade replied with a placid smile. “No need for it, sergeant. It’s not as if the Gendarmerie has the privilege to preach about punctuality. We love to do so, mind you.”

“Oh, I know that all too well, believe me. That being said, I’d appreciate if you didn’t give orders to my subordinate. They might get confused with the chain of command.”

Stockade grinned. “Oh, but I didn’t, sergeant. I merely asked it as a favour of her.” He cast a look over his shoulder where Rusty Blade was. Her section seemed to be in order and ready to move out, but Bronze Tail had the impression that the stallion’s attention wasn’t for the soldiers at all. “She truly is a fine mare, you know. I found my previous conversation with her quite charming.”

Bronze Tail struggled to contain a chuckle. He was really starting to like the stallion. Behind him, he heard Helena grousing under her breath. “Talos almighty, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

If Stockade heard any of that, he gave no indication he had. He turned to face him. “I think I’m speaking for the whole of us when I said we’re glad to have you here. This‒” he waved his hoof around, “‒might be bigger of what we’re accustomed to deal with.”

Bronze Tail raised an eyebrow. “Is really that bad?”

“Well, I might have sounded a little pessimistic there,” he chuckled softly, “but having additional firepower makes us all feel a lot better.”

It was Corporal Icewind’s turn to grin. “Did you hear that, Wilhelm?”

Specialist Wilhelm Redriver, the griffon assigned as fire support element, laughed. “Just wait for my wife to hear that!”

Others followed him suit. Even Gerus had a hard time in keeping his straight face this time. Bronze Tail found himself smiling too, but for other reasons. At least the troops had high spirits; the trick was now to keep them that way.

“Alright, knock it down a notch,” he finally said. “We’re about to earn our salary, so get yourself ready, gentlegriffs. Oh, and Wilhelm?”

“Yes, sarge?” the griffon replied.

“If I see you pointing that blasted thing anywhere near me,” he gestured at the enchanted arbalest slung over the griffon’s shoulder, “I’m personally shipping home that arse of yours in a box.”

---

Kingdom of Sphigypt,

Confederation of Northern Gryphus’s embassy in Thebanus . . .

Miralay Sebak restrained himself from groaning in frustration. It was a pointless act, he reasoned, and would have made him look more like a fool than anything. Still, the thought brought him little confort.

The sphinx’s paw reached up and pulled at the collar beneath his armour in order to loosen it up, and give him some breathing space. It was more a ceremonial relic than anything else, made of several bronze-like, overlapping metal plates.

Relieves ran across their surface to form a series of warding emblems meant to protect its wearer. Sebak didn’t know whether they were actual enchantments or mere decorations. They certainly were not protecting him from the hot afternoon air.

The sphinx scowled; having to wear what amounted to an oven for a nearly two hour-long train trip only worsened his mood. The legate’s aid, a young griffon who looked a size smaller than his uniform while trying to look twice as big, didn’t appeared to be enjoying the conversation either.

“The legate is unavailable at the moment,” he said bluntly. “Now, if you could just-”

“Yes, I already heard that. But repeating it won’t change the fact that my appointment has already been scheduled days ago.” It was a lie, but it worked more times than not. Usually.

“I don’t know anything about that,” the griffon shrugged. “Do you have papers with you?”

Sebak stared blankly at him. “Papers? What papers?”

Again, he shrugged. “Anything that would justify an interruption of her meeting. Seriously, you do really expect me to barge in there just because a random sphinx thinks he has something important to say?”

Sebak felt he was about to explode by sheer outrage. He had the sudden urge to bite the griffon’s head off. “Do you know at least who you’re talking to?” he said quietly, tapping a paw on the two golden chain links hanging from his pauldron, symbolizing his rank as Miralay.

The griffon beak twisted into a condescending sneer, his claw reaching back to adjust his weapon’s sheath. It was only then Sebak noticed the steel rapier at his side. “A sphinx wearing a fancy metal junk. Unsurprisingly, given how many come these days begging for the legate’s favour.” He chuckled. “I take it you have come to lick her paws too?”

Sebak’s teeth slowly grinded against each other. He knew a spoiled, blue-blooded brat with enough airs to fill a balloon when he saw one. He knew there was no point in wasting his time with him. He knew he could just leave the legate to deal with him later.

Unfortunately for the griffon, he had just insulted a relic belonging to Sebak’s own clan. He fancied himself as a progressive sphinx on matters of honour, relegating them as things of the past, but he decided to make an exception just for that overgrown chicken.

“If we’re done with this, I must then ask you to exit. Otherwise I’ll notify the security personnel and have you escorted ou-”

Sebak didn’t wait for him to finish. His own left paw shot upward, reaching for the griffon’s head. He seized his beak shut in an iron grip and pushed hard, driving his head backwards. At the same time, he hooked his right foreleg around the griffon’s left one, going over and then under it. Stunned, he didn’t have time to react before Sebak kicked his legs from under him, tackling the griffon to the floor. The surprised squawk never left his throat.

Keeping a solid grasp on his beak, Sebak wrestled his head to the side, exposing the throat. The griffon struggled against his grapple, rear legs lashing out to no avail to kick the sphinx off him. He desperately tried to reach for his weapon at the side, but he failed to draw it out at a such close quarter. Sebak restrained himself from delivering a final strike; it would have taken ages to wipe clean the mess. Also, he doubted the legate would appreciate to have one her aides butchered.

“Now shut up and listen well, griffon,” his voice came in low, cold tone as he locked gaze with him. The griffon stared up at him in pure terror, his eyes darting back and forth nervously as if to searching for an escape. The corridor was empty except for the two of them.

“I’ll let you know that this junk, as you called it, has belonged to the Yilmaz Clan for generations. It has witnessed almost four hundred years of history, thousand battles and even more forgotten bloodsheds.” His eyes narrowed to slits.

“My father and his before him had donned this very one, and faced ordeals that would had have you shitting yourself and wailing for your mother, just like a cub. In light of all this, I would have personally sliced your throat by now.” The griffon eyes widened in silent terror.

“You’re lucky, though” he added, his face twisting slowly into a devious grin. The griffon had stopped struggling by now. A mouth of razor-sharp teeth standing a few inches away from a throat did wonders in matters of persuasion.

“Today I’m in a really good mood. So, out of respect for the legate, I’ll let you continue your pathetic existence. But if hear you insulting me or my clan’s legacy again, those fancy feathers of yours shall make a fine trophy on my armour.”

The griffon swallowed nervously. A look at his face made clear he believed every single word. In the end he mastered enough courage for a timid nod. Satisfied, Sebak released him and let him run away and down the corridor, as fast as his paws could carry him. The thought of flying didn’t cross the griffon’s mind for an instant. He just ran.

Sebak didn’t followed him with his gaze, as he was busy wiping dust from his outfit. He looked down at his armour and sighed in frustration. It would have taken him another hour to bring it back to pristine condition. That thought was quickly squashed by another, one that brought a satisfied smile on his lips. Despite all this time off the battlefield, he had yet to lose his edge.

A few minutes and a last check of his appearance later, Miralay Sebak made his way through the door and into the room beyond.

His mind only half-registered the air being much cooler than outside; he had long since grew accustomed to have all that griffon-made machinery around. He knew the Confederates had some sort of air-cooling device, connected to each room in the building by a series of pipes and tubes.

The pleasure of feeling cold air against his skin was exceptional, even for a sphinx who had grown up in that desert heat. He mentally made a note to ask around and check if something similar could be arranged for his office in Dehecan too.

What instead caught his immediate attention was the group of griffons in red-and-white uniforms seated around a conference table. Their discussion, a rather animated one by the looks of things, was brought to a sudden end by his appearance in the doorframe, their heads turning simultaneously at him. An unnerving silence descended into the room.

A blue-feathered, dark-furred griffoness, an eyepatch resting over her left eye, looked up from her seat at the table’s far end and frowned. She tapped her claw on the table a couple of time to get everygriff attention. “We’ll resume this later. Leave us, now.”

None of the presents said a word in protest. They merely gathered up their papers, saluted her and made their way to the door and past Sebak. As the last one of her subordinates closed the door behind him, her frown turned first into an amused grin, then in a chuckle. “That shiny thing looks good on you.”

Sebak was about to point out that it was a family relic, but decided to drop the matter, at least for now. “Well, I’m glad you appreciate it at least. Your aid outside certainly didn’t.”

Legate Theresa Clavus reached up to adjust the eypatch of her left eye. She sighed. “What did Scipius do this time?”

Sebak shrugged. “Something very stupid. And don’t worry, he’s still alive.”

“So now I’ll have to deal with his complains too. You could have spared me a headache and tossed his body in the city’s bay.”

Sebak raised an eyebrow. “I was under the impression that you were his commanding officer. Can’t you just put him in his place?”

“Oh, I would positively love to do that, trust me. But officially he’s part of the embassy staff, and his father has some connections back home. I can’t lay a claw on him and he knows it, so he can get away with a lot of things.”

“Ah, I see.” Sebak grinned. “The prole of a wealthy family, grown up with no discipline and too many privileges. Who did he bed to get sent here?”

“I’ve no idea.” Then half-chuckling, “but if I had to take a guess, her father was a griffon in high places.”

Her tone shifted to a more serious one. “Sadly, now I have to deal with him, given that Ambassador Lucio has better things to do.” Theresa shook her head and glanced at the papers spread out before her. “Among the other things.”

“Problems at home, I take it?”

She nodded. “Not even being on another continent can shield me from the mess which is the Senate in these days.” She flipped quickly through a pile of papers before stopping to check one of the latest reports.

“Seems like there’re some idiots back a Skyhold wondering if our aggressive posturing might provoke the Equestrians into joining the fray. Of course, if you ask me, they’re heads are stuffed with feathers.”

“And it could?”

“Maybe, maybe not” she shrugged in annoyance, “and in truth, who cares? It has been almost a century since those ponies fought an actual war.” She felt the urge to add, “and in that instance, the Confederation used their cutie-marked, harmonist flanks to wipe both the proverbial and literal floor.”

Sebak forced himself not to roll his eyes. He had read many accounts of the Second Equestria-Gryphus War and, if memory didn’t deceive him, events had turned out to be a little different from her description.

The inhabitants of North Gryphus had always been attached to their national history, taking much pride in their valiant and noble ancestry. Unfortunately, that had also had the side effect of making them sore losers. Sebak had come to realize that their people truly had a lot in common.

“But in the end, you griffons made peace with them, didn’t you?”

Theresa’s head whipped around, fixing his one-eyed glare on him. “That was only because we had those bloody Owlstrians on our southern border. I would like to see your Pharaoh fighting a war on two fronts.”

“Which is precisely why I’m here, legate” Sebak announced with some satisfaction. “Seems like gears have been finally set in motion.”

That last remark caught immediately Theresa’s attention, causing her eye to widen. “Really, now? And I suppose this news comes from a reliable source?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call the Grand Vizier that,” Sebak conceded. As he was speaking, he took a seat in the empty chairs closest to the legate.

Her eye, in the meantime, had narrowed. “I have plenty of suggestions of how you may call him.”

The sphinx chuckled. “Now, that’s a little unfair. I might not like that snake of a pony myself, but I have to admit that he knows his trade.” He winked at her. “Besides, you can’t keep that attitude now that we’re about to meet him.”

“I asked this before, and I’ll ask it again.” Theresa raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Why me? Lucio is the politician. Tell the Vizier to talk to him.”

“Normally I would agree with you, but this is more of a military matter than anything.”

“Again, why me?” she asked.

Sebak rolled his eyes. “Because last time I checked, you’re still a military observer. I also thought you might want to see the new regiments marshalling at Dehecan.”

Theresa remained silent. She glanced down at the documents still arranged before her, before fixing her stare on the sphinx. “It will certainly add something new to my monthly reports. But what about Lucio?”

Sebak shrugged casually. “What about him?”

“You know how he is,” she said, sighing. “This time he’ll want to be informed.”

“It’s not my fault if that feathered head can’t keep his beak shut,” he growled. “Look, I’m not asking you to lie to him,” he murmured, “just forget to mention a thing or two.”

Theresa looked unconvinced. “I still think that’s frowned upon.”

“So it’s fraternization, last time I checked. But that hasn’t really stopped us, has it?” He winked at her.

Theresa’s face reddened for the briefest of moments, her wings twitching nervoulsy. Her beak split in a genuine smile.

“Well, if you put it like that,” she mused. “I’ll see what I can do about it. But I hope for you I’ll get something out of this when it’s all done. I’ll be the one getting chewed up, after all.”

Sebak nodded. “Of course. As a matter of fact, there’s this lovely restaurant overlooking the bay and I may or not have already booked a table for two. How about this evening at eight o’clock?”

“Well, it does certainly sound ap-” The grifoness’s beak stood open, her mind coming to a sudden realization. “Sebak, did you come in and interrupt my meeting only to invite me to dinner?”

“Do you really think me capable of such things? I would never do that,” he said with feigned outrage. “I simply came to bear Grand Vizier’s Golden Tusk invitation for a meeting. The rest was an afterthought.”

“My sincerest apologies for doubting you, then.” Theresa said with a thin smile.

Sebak made to rose from his seat when a stray thought entered his mind. “Oh, I almost forgot. Before I put him in his place, your dear Scipius mentioned something about sphinxes coming to visit you. What was that about?”

Theresa chuckled, clearly amused. “Since when are you so jealous, Sebak?” He didn’t give her the satisfaction of an answer and contended himself to smile.

“Jokes aside though, I’ve received some unusual visits while you were in Dehecan. Most of them were officials from some clans. I can’t remember their name, though.”

That last part caught Sebek attention. “What did they want?”

She replied with a shrug. “They said it was a visit of courtesy, but for some unknown reason the discussion kept falling on the same argument.”

“Let me guess,” Sebek said, his eyes slowly narrowing. “Me.”

“Precisely.” She raised a claw and scratched thoughtfully at her eyepatch. “One of them was very curious about your personal relationship with the Grand Vizier.”

“Did he have an owl?” he asked.

“A what?”

“Did you see an owl on him? As a symbol, I mean, on a cloak or something.”

Theresa though about it for a moment before nodding. “I think he had one, yes. Do you know him?”

Sebek did not replied; as a matter of fact, he had stopped paying attention on anything. He was busy imagining a full array of brutal and painful deaths for a sphinx who bore more things in common with a viper.

He mentally corrected himself though. Snakes weren't famous for beeing backstabbers.

Comments

[Merchant Mariner]

I really like the premise to that story. Hope you update soon, 'cause I always love a good griffon and sphinxes story.

Do you already have an update schedule?

[TheGMan]

9664929
Thank you! That's good to hear and I hope you'll enjoy my story! Regarding the updates, I'll try to stick to a monthly schedule, especially given the chapters' lenght. Stay tuned for more!

[TheGMan]

9667336
These are interesting points; I wish I could aswer them fully, even a couple of them, but that would ruin the surprise. Regarding slavery, well, I'll just say that there is some form of it, though not in the way you may think. Stay tuned for the next chapter!