Prince Blueblood: Master Ambassador

by Doug Graves

5 Expectations

Waking up the next morning is far less uncomfortable than Lunaris would have wanted, given the situation. He finds his side pressing against Aspide, the sheet that started between them kicked off and pushed away at some point during the night. He lays there, listening to her steady breathing, noticing for the first time that the room could get a bit chilly.

Well, it is winter, after all. Lunaris shifts to the side, exiting the disturbingly warm bed. He stretches his forelegs, bending down to the ground before placing his hooves into the insets and ascending the wall. He begins his morning workout by hooking his forelegs over the bar and repeatedly pulling himself up.

Aspide wakes up, groaning at the sudden burst of cold against her side. She looks up, her sleepy mind trying to process the pony exercising in front of her. "Um?" she softly stammers to herself as she stares; at least Lunaris is facing away from her in his very indecent pose. Her eyes trace the muscles in his forelegs, contracting over and over; she can practically see the lines bulging against his coat. Lunaris turns his head to glance at her, grunting what might have passed for a greeting from anypony else. He drops down, orienting his body to face Aspide. His hind legs use the same insets in the stone, helping him back up the wall to a foreleg stand position. He begins doing push ups, Aspide again thankful that his body is in the way. She asks, with slightly more bite than she intended, "So, what are those for?"

"The exercises? Do they not teach you weapon training in the guard?" Lunaris grunts out between breaths, his muzzle beginning to turn red.

"Hey, I'm proficient with the spear!" Aspide retorts, the snide remark instantly waking her up. She scoffs as she hops off the bed, "I'm better with a short sword and shield, but they want conformity in the guard, not skill."

"Then you might be familiar with what muscles you use," Lunaris says, a bit of bite in his tone as he drops down. He shakes his forelegs, climbing back up the wall and starting another set of pull ups. "They both require at least a modest amount of strength to best an opponent."

"Well, sure, but you aren't hoofwrestling, or hitting something with a giant club. With those kind of muscles you're more likely to break your spear on theirs than to overpower them." Aspide moves over to the mirror, admiring her lean figure, "Plus, I prefer dodging to blocking any day."

"You must be using the wrong spears then. Only a practice spear would break under such pressure." Lunaris pulls his body up, his hind hooves on the ceiling in order to stare at her. "I am assuming that you have used a real spear, of course." Aspide's mouth opens as Lunaris cuts her off, "At least in a spar, not just holding it."

Aspide's mouth closes, huffing as she turns to the door. "Maybe not a spear that wasn't blunted, but I've sparred with sword and board many a time." She smirks, "I bet I could give you a run for your bits."

"I'm sorry, I don't take money from foals," Lunaris jeers, crossing his hind legs over the bar and doing sit ups from his inverted position.

"I don't need to take this," Aspide glares, opening the door. "If I'm going to be your partner, you need to treat me with respect."

Lunaris sighs, grabbing onto the bar with his forelegs before dropping to the ground. "Would you prefer I use the term amateur instead? Or how about novice?"

"No." Aspide walks out of the door as Lunaris levitates a towel, quickly drying off the building sweat. He canters after her, the two heading to the mess hall. "What I want is for you to eat those words of yours after I best you in a sparring match."

"After breakfast, then? Or would you prefer to save the salt for your morning meal?" Lunaris smirks as Aspide turns and shakes her hoof at him before bursting into the mess hall.

Rows and rows of tables are arranged in the middle of the room, several stations with various breakfast food and drink on the sides. Two groups of four of the morning guard are sitting on one side, with one group of the night guard eating what is effectively their dinner. One stallion stands by the stations, perking up as the two storm into the room. Aspide goes up to the first station, piling on wheat bread and greens, not caring what ends up on her plate.

"Ahem. Private Aspide?" the guard says, interrupting her frenzied gathering. Aspide glares at the stallion as he says, "I was told to warn you, that you might not want to eat anything just yet, to wait until after your first lesson."

"Oh? What, I can't eat here now that I'm on assignment? Move over." Aspide steps to the side, intentionally pushing into the guard and knocking him out of the way as she goes to the next station.

The guard shakes his head as he backs off, "No, it was the chef's recommendation. He said it would help avoid any... unfortunate associations."

"Yeah, right. I'm hungry, now move." Aspide grabs a glass of apple juice and a glass of milk, everything precariously balanced with one hoof.

"Just out of curiosity, what lesson is that?" Lunaris asks as he levitates a plate over, loading it with spiced oatmeal and salad.

The guard motions with a hoof, "I wasn't told exactly what you will be doing, but you are going through that hallway, third door on the left."

Lunaris grunts as he follows the guard's hoof, "That's the Griffon section." He glances at his plate, and then at Aspide. He says to her, his voice uncharacteristically subdued, "We may want to hold off on eating."

Aspide grits her teeth, walking over to a table and dropping her plate onto it. It clatters around, bits of food bouncing off as she whirls past the guard. "Fine. What are we going to do?"

Lunaris shudders as he walks down the rough hallway, wishing he had something to plug his nose against the inevitable assault on his senses, "I don't know, and I think not knowing is for the best."

"Oh?" Aspide taunts, hurrying up to walk beside Lunaris, "It can't be that bad, can it? Cold hooves already?"

The two come to a door, the first of several warning signs saying 'Warning! Griffon Kitchen!' with a note scrawled in ink underneath, 'Griffons Only!'

Lunaris pushes the door open, ignoring the other signs. The kitchen inside seems fairly standard, with pantries, ovens, and various cabinets stocked with utensils. A large metal preparation table dominates the center of the room, long inset channels along the edge that lead to empty buckets. The ammonia liberally applied to the room singes their eyes, small tears forming in the corners as they squint around at the occupants. Two griffons are bustling around; the one wearing a white chef's hat is dragging a writhing bag from a back door while the other, clad in a stained brown apron against his black feathers, is laying out long knives and cleavers.

The two ponies pause at the sight of the non-standard cooking implements and the bag, still moving after the griffon drops it down. The griffon in back twirls his long mustache, and while his beak doesn't change a vicious smirk can be seen in his eyes. He laughs, "Oh hon hon! Ze fresh meat iz here!"

"Vell? Vat are sie vaiten for? Infitation?" The nearly unintelligible Germane accent comes from the griffon in front; he narrows his eyes, pointing the cleaver he is sharpening to the sink. "Vashen sie die hooves, den wir begin!"

"Um?" Aspide stammers as the two ponies move to the sink. They cautiously glance at each other as the back griffon leaves the room, the loud 'schhinn' of a long knife being sharpened echoing against the clop of their hooves.

"Mein name ist Gerald, or der Grinder." Gerald motions with one talon, "Mein colleague Gustave le Grand; he focus on der backink und such."

"A pleasure," Lunaris says, though his dry tone tells that it is anything but. "I am Prince Lunaris Blueblood, and this is Private Aspide." Gerald stares at the two as he sets one sharp knife to the table, another taking its place in his talons. Lunaris sighs as his horn lights to turn the tap.

Gerald shouts, "NEIN!" at the flash of light, the harsh twang of metal hitting metal as he smacks the back end of the knife onto the table. Lunaris turns, his body readying for a fight as he glares at the griffon. Gerald's mocking tone grates on their ears, "Sie denk dis ist cute job? Vell, griffon do. Nicht. Cook. Mit. Magik." He punctuates each word with a brutal slice of the knife away from him, slamming it down and picking up another. "Ven sie go zu Griffon Kingdom, dey vill not care for dein magik. Dey vill not care for dein precious sensibilities. Dey vill enjoy mack sie squirm, mack sie gag, mack sie knees veek from glance at cruel vays."

"Fine. I get it," Lunaris rolls his eyes, "no magic." Lunaris sighs, turning the tap with his hoof. The two wash their hooves, their elbows resting on the counter, the spray of the water loud against the industrial sink.

"Sie vant to be... ambassador, ja?" Lunaris nods, Gerald muttering to himself. "Vell, den, sie need goot name for position." He taps the knife against his beak a few times before saying, "Wir callen sie die Ambador."

Lunaris raises an eyebrow, "Like, a matador? Is that a popular sport for griffons?"

Gerald laughs, "Ja, vir kan say dat."

When they drop back down from the sink Gerald slams the butt end of the knife onto the counter again as he shouts, "NEIN!" The ponies turn, their hooves contacting the floor with a loud 'clop'. He points the knife at the sink, "Vashen sie again! Eaten sie off der floor? Nein! Hoof never touch der floor!"

"This is ridiculous!" Lunaris says as he hops back up to the sink, his hoof turning the water back on. "You're walking along the floor on your hooves, why can't we?"

"Dis ist mein koocken, sie vill do as I say! Seckond, das vord ist 'talon', mein ignorant freund! Am I on mein talons?" Gerald motions to his upright posture, "Nein! I am not. And vile sie might eat shtraight from plate, or dein fancy magic, vir nicht eaten das meat here. Vee are preparen das special food for der griffons in Canterlot, and vee vouldn't vant dem to get sick, now vould vir?"

Lunaris sighs, awkwardly balancing on two legs as walks to the table with the knifes. Aspide has much less trouble with the upright posture, practically dancing around Lunaris as he glowers. She gleefully taunts, "Aww, sad I'm finally better at you at something? Can't rely on your fancy magic now, can you?"

Gerald bellows, "Silence!", cutting off Lunaris' retort. Gustave reenters the room with a second bag over his shoulder, bringing it next to Gerald. Gustave goes back to the counter, pulling out flour and other ingredients. Gerald quickly undoes the rope binding the bag shut, reaching one talon in and plucking out a live chicken. "How much sie know about chickens?"

"Um, they lay eggs? That we use for baking?" Aspide says, her eyes growing wide as she watches Gerald. "You... you aren't..."

"Correct, aber incorrect." Gerald lays the chicken onto the table as Gustave starts mixing the ingredients for a large number of pies. Gerald lifts the cleaver, "Das ist nicht die chicken only use, nicht for griffons."

"No!" Aspide yells, wildly looking between the other three in the room. "Stop!"

The cleaver comes down regardless, cleanly severing the chicken's head from the body. Aspide's hooves drop to the floor, tears streaming from her eyes as she barrels away from the bloody scene. She bangs into one of the tables, pots and pans clattering to the floor. She struggles with the door, pushing and banging on it with her hooves. She quickly realizes her mistake, yanking the door open and escaping out of the room.

Lunaris stares at the headless chicken, his hooves barely keeping him up as his knees go weak. Gerald lays the chicken so the blood continues to drain down the channel and into the bucket. Lunaris gulps; this is what they are going to face out there? How barbaric!

Gustave laughs, "Some ponies, non?" He walks over to the two, watching Lunaris for any change in demeanor. Seeing none, he elbows Gerald, "You zink zis pony can zurvive in ze Griffon Kingdom? I zink not! Sacre blanc, 'e can barely look at a griffon, much lez be ze ambassador."

Gerald laughs along with him, "Ja? Sie givt up already, ja?"

That breaks Lunaris out of his stupor, stomping a hoof against the floor as he says, "I'm not giving up! I will be the ambassador to the griffons!" He internally grimaces as he steels himself; is this why Princess Celestia chose him? Because, as Prince, he would need to be able to compose himself, to not become squeamish when faced with the prospect of death? Of war? All to spare her other little ponies the knowledge of the atrocities committed by the other races? Or merely how their 'cultures' differ?

Gerald's laughter quiets down, "Oh? Vas dis merely dein zuerst time seeing death? First time?" At Lunaris' hesitant nod his laugh returns, "Vell, sie train vith deine rapiers efery day. Vat did sie expect happen ven somepony gets hurt? Nicht efery opponent ist as clean as von of dein freund's shields." He pulls the next chicken out of the bag, "Dein turn."

Lunaris shakes his head as he says, "This is what griffons go through? Every day?" Lunaris grimly takes the offered cleaver, shuddering as he inspects the business end. Not as sharp as his golden rapier, but good enough to get the job done.

"Vee aren't lookt for dein pity, if dat's vat sie askink," replies Gerald. "Do I need to hold das chicken, or ist sie big colt?"

"I'll do it," Lunaris barely grunts, the rooster squawking in alarm as he notices his deceased kin. One hoof holds the struggling chicken down, the other raising the cleaver, coming down on the chicken's neck.

However, the cut isn't as clean as Gerald's - the point end of the cleaver comes down onto the table too early. The blade merely bites into the chicken's neck, failing to sever it. Gerald cruelly laughs as the chicken's writhing sprays blood everywhere, "Finishen die job! Schnell!"

Lunaris wrestles the chicken back into place, groaning at the blood staining into his coat. The cleaver comes down a second time, hitting a different spot but severing the head.

Gerald pats Lunaris on the back with a talon, "Das ist nicht so bad. Sie did vell, for zuerst time." Lunaris blankly nods as Gerald points to the bag, "Now, getten sie next chicken." At Lunaris' hesitation Gerald laughs, "Sie givt up already?" Lunaris glares at him as Gerald continues, "Dey all going same vay, ja? Ein sie pick zuerst, is barmherzigkeit, mercy."

Lunaris grimaces, one hoof going into the bag and pulling out the next chicken.

Hours later, Aspide spots Lunaris in one of the courtyards. He is gazing at the statue of Clover the Clever, his front hooves resting, partly dipped into the cold, clear waters. She walks up, laying down next to him and softly saying, "Hey, um, I'm sorry for running out on you like that."

Lunaris stares at the water as it churns about, only the slight change in his breath a sign that he heard her.

Aspide sighs, "And, I can understand if you want to find somepony else to go with you."

Lunaris blinks, one hoof starting to swirl the water around.

Aspide stands, turning to leave.

"No."

Aspide glances back; Lunaris is shaking his head, an almost pleading look on his muzzle.

"Please don't go."

Aspide moves back, laying next to him. She can feel him flinch as her side presses against his. He slowly relaxes, a choked sob as she quietly asks, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Three dozen. Three dozen thinking, living beings. Am I just to pretend that they don't have any feelings? That their lives can be disregarded like their entrails, their feelings broken down like their bodies?" He shudders, "Or that they are merely being used for some greater purpose?"

Aspide lays silently against him, pushing her side against his.

Lunaris sighs, his head dropping down. "Thank you for being here for me. And, no, I don't think I would want anypony else on this journey."

Aspide grunts in reply, her head pushing into the nook under his neck. The two rest there for some time, Lunaris continuing to stare at the churning water.

Comments

[badninja]

I am starting to fear that when Blueblood was talking about what happened here when he was with Doug he grossly over simplified it and downplayed just how messy it was.

[Doug Graves]

9272179
In a word, yes.

[Ri2]

9272183
Doug?

[Doug Graves]

9272195
The whole story takes place in relation to my other work Alternate Beginnings; Prince Blueblood relates a story of his time in the Griffon Kingdom to the main character Doug. It isn't necessary to read that for this story, and spoils the ending a tad.

[badninja]

9272185

Ok

[The Great Derpsby]

This is a pretty good representation of Hollywood German Gobbledygook.

It's actually painful to read. Ow.

[Doug Graves]

9285452
Glad you enjoyed the 'Germane' section, it was nearly as painful to write. At least I hope that was enjoyment.

[The Great Derpsby]

9286020
It was a sweet pain.