Piece of Parchment

by Metemponychosis

Manehattan, Finally

The scouts said they were somewhere in the middle of the Chariot Hills. Soft, grassy hills south of Manehattan that weren’t good for a lot other than looking pretty. Far enough the local militia wouldn’t bother looking for them without explicit orders to do so, at least. The hills also should guard the airship from prying eyes traveling the nearby road. Fortunately, they landed during the night under cover from the storm. Otherwise, the city’s Local Militia would’ve already sent ponies to investigate a crashing airship. Fortune, or Harmony, was on their side.

Thus, the plan mostly remained: Twilight, Cadance, and Starlight cast a cloaking spell over the Magic of Friendship. Then, the group of friends and griffons left for Manehattan. They would meet Naminé, see what’s so important Discord wanted them to know from her, and then leave for Snow Mountains. Hopefully, via teleporter and with the airship so they wouldn’t have to deal with the monsters along the way. Or, at least, deal with them by running away in one of the world’s fastest airships. Provided, of course, the airship’s crewponies managed to procure the parts and make it flightworthy in time.

Once they would finally make it to Griffindell, Twilight hoped The Lion would help her find more concrete evidence of all Princess Celestia had hidden away in the past. The Griffon Empire. The Cult of The Harpy. Hopefully, even about the great republic that became Equestria.

Maybe, with enough support, she could get the Princess to make amends.

And she was sure Cadance wanted to trade some choice words with Lady Gwendolen. Or some blows. Fortunately, there was plenty of time for Cadance to cool her head before they arrived and met the griffoness.

The problem was… After last night some bridges might have been burned which Twilight wasn’t entirely ready to burn yet. Or ever. But she supposed it was necessary if the truth was to come out and since Celestia was so adamant on stopping their quest. Though the thought that kept coming back to her was that she couldn’t think of a time in her life when Celestia outright forbade her to do something.

Despite it all, there she was, riding a hot cart smelling of moldy flour. Tucked in a cramped space behind a wall of sacks filled of said produce with her bewildered friends and a bunch of murderous griffons. Listening to Pinkie Pie play the most melancholic song possible on a harmonica. What had happened to her life? Where did that harmonica come from? Pinkie Pie was Pinkie Pie at that moment.

“Darling…” Rarity started ‘that’ way, dragging the ‘A’. As she did whenever one of their friends was getting on her nerves, if her flat ears weren’t enough. “Must you?”

Pinkie stopped playing for a Harmony-blessed moment. “What?”

“We appreciate the musical ambiance.” Grigory spoke politely, laying on the floor next to Gallensa. “But we are trying to sneak into a city.”

“But it’s thematic!” Pinkie’s mane deflated.

“Where did you even get that darned thing?” Applejack rolled her eyes.

“Oh!” Pinkie’s mane returned to its typical fluffiness. “It was behind the fake wood panel in the front of the cart! Right where Twilight is.”

“What?” The alicorn stood and turned, but she saw nothing suspicious about the thick wood boards that made the front of the cart. Not even the usual chest with repair tools and spare parts such carts usually had. “Wait.”

She magically pulled at the planks until one came loose and revealed a hidden compartment. It was empty, and even had the previously missed chest at the bottom. “Huh. Clever. I think. I never smuggled anything anywhere. Other than me, it seems.”

“Is nopony else concerned? We just found that griffons are smuggling stuff into our cities.” Rainbow glared and pointed a hoof at the griffons across from her in their cramped hiding space.

“We’re trying not to find reasons to fight, Rainbow.” Twilight put the plank back in place.

“We can’t get our weapons in via normal methods.” Gray sat in the corner, next to their doctor, who was busy reading a small black book. “Most of the firearms our agents would use are advanced long arms, pistols, and machineguns. Local authorities would lose their mind over some of the stuff we take into cities. Not only are firearms regulated within these cities, but we mean to use them in emergencies.”

“Such as a griffon prince crash landing nearby with a group of ponies that need to get to Snow Mountains?” Twilight smiled with a playful modicum of snark.

“Believe it or not,” Grigory responded with his usual seriousness. “We don’t plan on using these weapons against you. They are meant for defense if our cells are discovered. All our griffons and supporters in the Heartland are supposed to maintain a low profile. All the action is supposed to happen in Griffonia. Lady Gwendolen plans on calling all griffons to Griffonia for a census when we take over, anyway. Maybe there could be trouble at the Saddle Arabian border, if we must.”

Twilight settled and ponies quieted after his explanation. A good five minutes passed in silence without the harmonica.

“So, what’s your problem with the Saddle Arabians?” Rainbow shrugged after a while.

“The desert is ours.” Grigory spoke without any hesitation.

“How does that work?” Shining raised an eyebrow. “They’ve been living there for millennia, and you have been living in Griffonia for millennia… I think that borders in the modern world are very well established. No way you can contest them.”

“There are ruins buried under the sands that prove we inhabited that land.” The purple griffon explained with his usual measured calm. “In fact, the city of Aen Hader was the political and cultural capital of the Empire. It belongs to us.”

“At best,” Cadance raised her voice to draw attention. “It means the lands were disputed. The tall ponies are indigenous to the region, and you are not. I can’t imagine the Hall of Friendship giving you any use over the land.”

“We are indigenous to the northerner lands which the Windigos stole from us.” Gallensa glared at her. “Because of you.”

Cadance rolled her eyes. “Just because your ancestors made up a legend that we used them as weapons… Nocreature is going to take that seriously. Especially when ponies also lost so much because of the Windigos.”

“I don’t think that they would be discouraged by the Hall of Friendship disagreeing with them, Cadie.” Shining responded dryly.

Applejack cleared her throat. “We’re trying to work together here. Remember?”

Her comment caused Pinkie Pie to giggle, but Twilight’s stomach sunk at the idea that the griffons might be right. What if Princess Celestia lied about it, and has been lying for literal ages? What if that was the big thing? That ponies really summoned the Windigos as a weapon to attack the griffons?

One of the griffons pulling the cart knocked at the front. “Hey, we’re coming up on the checkpoint. You better be quiet.”

Ponies and griffons, sitting or laying on the moldy flour silenced, but kept staring at each other across the empty space in the middle. The squeaky suspension, hard as it was, was the most prevalent noise along with the creaking of the wheels. Flurry Heart let out a soft coo, looking up at Cadance who shushed her.

“Why in the everlasting Winter did this mare bring her little spawn?” Gallensa asked in an angry, but hushed voice. “Why are we dragging the pony child along?”

While Flurry Heart blew her tongue at the yellow griffoness, Cadance gave her a steel-melting glare. “I must be with Flurry Heart. She still needs me.”

Miss Calcite, the crystal pony maid shared in Cadance’s glaring. “Princess Flurry Heart is still too young to be left without her mother’s milk. Not to mention that Flurry Heart is very unlikely to cause problems.”

While the ponies and griffons looked to one side and the other to follow the argument, Twilight’s eyes rolled.

“Then this pink eye-sore should’ve stayed in the airship.” Gallensa shot back, fortunately, keeping the hushed tone. “Then neither you nor the baby would’ve had to come!”

“Excuse me? Eye-sore?” Shining snorted while Cadance gasped, and Flurry Heart gasped even louder.

“Guys…” Twilight stomped a hoof a couple of times. “Can we, please, not?”

They silenced for a minute until Grigory’s thin gunsmith friend frowned and appointed at the pony side of the room and spoke softly. “Aren’t the pokehead guards going to ‘feel’ our pokeheads? Or something?”

Twilight answered in a similar tone. “Only if they are looking for something like hiding unicorns.”

“They should.” Shining added with concern.

“Be quiet.” Gray said. “This is just a formality. Our griffons are going to bribe the checkpoint’s supervisor.”

“What?!” Shining cried and all the present creatures shushed him as the cart stopped. He followed again in a hushed tone. “Bribe?!”

They could hear creatures talking outside the thick cotton tarp that covered the cart.

“Greetings sirs.” A female pony voice filtered through. “Sorry for the inconvenience. We are looking for somepony and all accesses to the city are being controlled. Please state your business.”

Twilight heard the ripping sound of someone unbuckling a strap as a griffon spoke. “Greetings’ ma’am. We’re taking flour to a bakery within the city. From Haywood.”

The pony hummed. “Plenty of bakeries in Manehattan, mister.”

“Well, the griffon one, of course. Here are the documents.”

“I see.” Twilight could hear flapping paper as well as their voices. The mare hummed loudly. “Come on. Let’s talk in my office. Both of you.”

Pony hooves and griffon paws walked away, but a few remained walking around the cart.

“Hold on…” Rainbow spoke in a raspy hushed tone. “Does that mean we could be with the Elements and still get through?”

Twilight shushed her with a hoof before her muzzle. “We still wouldn’t have had time to fetch them before we left, Rainbow!”

“I don’t even have a legendary magical stone of untold power to smuggle anyway…” Starlight whispered too, with an angry frown.

“For feather’s sake, will you ponies shut up?” Grigory growled despite his reserved tone.

Almost on cue, the tarp around the back opened and someone hopped onto the cart. A dim light filtered past the gaps between the sacks of flour. Hooves sounded on wood on the other side of the wall of flour hiding them. At least the squeaky and hard suspension didn’t shift too much with some creature walking inside the cart.

“Small load. So…” A voice came from the other side of their protection. Female and curious. “Are we supposed to take all of these out and examine each one, or are you going to use that horn of yours?”

“Nah…” A male responded. “They are definitively hiding something.”

“Ah? How do you know?” Twilight’s eyes rolled at the conversation, but she almost giggled at Shining Armor’s bitter frown.

“I don’t want to know. There’s certainly a check in the middle of ‘the documents’…” The male explained. “If you find something you’re gonna get in the way and the boss is gonna be pissed. Just say you saw nothing suspicious and that I magically searched this cart and found nothing. Come on.”

The cart shifted one last time and there was silence. No pony or griffon said anything, but Twilight relaxed once she saw Grigory’s soldier friend was calm. Not too long after Twilight heard the ‘boss’ speaking.

“Get that open.” She yelled while Twilight also heard the straps being buckled again.

“Thanks a lot, ma’am.” A griffon said. “Appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Be on your way.” The mare responded as the cart started moving again.

After a couple of minutes there was a knock on the wood again and the griffon spoke to them. “We’re through. We’ll be there soon.”

Just as he spoke, the cart started rattling on the typical cobblestone of the larger pony cities. They should be safe for a while and Twilight ought to start thinking about how to contact Naminé. Hopefully, the griffons should help.

“So… Can we report that we smuggled ourselves into town and witnessed blatant… Uh…” Spike started with a confused frown.

“Dereliction of duty, Spike…” Shining growled.

***

Celestia sat at her desk. It was the same room the griffons had given her to settle at the Chancellor’s Palace. The three little cubs had been taken away to a proper orphanage and she had lost track of time while reading reports from the city. She was supposed to have slept a few hours ago, but reports kept coming. From her Royal Guards and from loyal griffon officials. She postponed going to bed, and suddenly it was time to raise the sun again.

Once the bit of joy that was bringing a new day upon the world washed away, she was back to reading. Dreadful reports of griffons shooting each other. Griffons pointing fingers and accusing each other. Griffons committing suicide. Griffons burning evidence. Crimes, looting, assaults and worse. Much worse. If she was not there, the intelligence division of the Griffonian Standing Army might have seen a bloodshed like the ones before the Federation. Everything they know would’ve been lost.

She sighed as she looked over the sheet of paper and her eyes refused to remain open. The familiar pony glyphs had become a collection of undecipherable symbols and numbers worse than anything a griffon might have written. There was a reason they called bad calligraphy ‘griffonage’.

She whined to herself and didn’t even need to read to know what they said. ‘Hatred’, ‘discrimination’, ‘violence’, ‘verbal assaults’, actual ‘assaults’. Although she supposed she could understand the griffons. Intelligence officers, like the ones in the Blackfeather division, were typically distrusted and disliked by their comrades. Even more so by civilians once they understood their usual tactics. Griffonia’s Blackfeathers were accused of some shady and particularly reproachable things, and it was clear to her they feared something. More than they feared losing their jobs once Gilad became their king.

But anger and violence were not the answer, much less murder and maiming.

She reclined against the sturdy backrest and let out another sigh. Colonel Gaspar wouldn’t open up with her, but the reports she had from her guards said enough. Griffons in the GSA really didn’t like hearing the story old General Gamaliel had to tell. Unfortunately, she only had snippets of the story, and he had suspiciously slipped out of her reach.

To be fair, she almost sided with the Griffonian soldiers on that, given her past with the implicated griffons. But still… More violence was not the answer, and it spoke of keeping information from reaching her.

Her head hurt so much. If Chocolate was there, he would massage her. Help her relax a little bit. And probably scold her for not sleeping the whole night.

Three polite knocks interrupted her thoughts. “Come in.”

The door opened and one of the pegasi clad in the golden armor of the Royal Guard stepped in, closing the door behind him. A pretty mare of an off-white shade of cyan and blue for mane walked in. Her locks turned into a decorative blue plume that went well with her also blue eyes.

Celestia did her best not to show her frustration, but she didn’t think she could stomach another report of violence against Blackfeather officers before breakfast.

“Princess, we received a message from Baltimare. The detachment from the First Royal Guard Fleet has arrived and has begun surveillance operations on the region.” The young mare declared dryly.

“What?” Celestia’s tiredness went away in a surge of nervous energy. An awful sense of foreboding grasped her empty and irritated stomach. “Detachment?”

“The airships, Princess.” The mare frowned. “They have arrived at Baltimare near the end of the night.”

“But… But why? I didn’t…” Celestia frowned too, but it was out of confusion. “How did the message even arrive? Teleportation is near impossible from outside the area.”

“Communication mirrors seen to be working, your highness.” The mare explained, maintaining the professional visage of the Guard. “Poorly, but they are working for short messages to the Heartland. They used the one in the command center in Baltimare and reached Your Highness through the one here in the Chancellor’s Palace.”

She felt stupid and hoped her cheeks didn’t tint, but she had completely forgotten those things existed.

“But…” Celestia wasn’t sure her brain wasn’t working properly because she was so tired or if something had gotten lost in the conversation. “But I didn’t order any detachment from the fleet to Baltimare. Did Admiral Gloria…”

Wait… That was the fleet with the Break of Dawn where Twilight and her friends were detained. Along with Grigory and his friends.

Celestia shook her head and quickly reorganized her thoughts. Something bad had happened. “They were given false orders. Kindly ask the communications team to request a report of what exactly happened with the fleet. Direct them to return to the main fleet immediately. Ask the admiralty to locate all detached ships and relay orders to return immediately to report on the situation. Something’s gone wrong and I don’t like it at all.”

She stopped for a second to think, and thankfully the young mare was one of those who remembered proper protocol: she didn’t leave before Celestia gave her leave. “Relay orders to Manehattan. Have all assets under the Royal House to search Princesses Twilight Sparkle and Mi Amore Cadenza. They are to be detained immediately, along with any companions they might have. Also have them intensify the searches for a pony called Naminé. The Lord Protector will understand.”

“You may go now. Please hurry.” The princess concluded and the mare saluted her before leaving to be replaced by a middle-aged griffon wearing the green uniform of the GSA. It went well with his tan and off-white yellow. A corporal someone had tasked to come talk to the pony princess and he wasn’t in any hurry whatsoever.

He gave her a curt bow. “Morning, your highness. One Miss Mallet is here to see you. She wears the robes of a Royal Justiciar.”

“Thank you.” Celestia smiled at him. “Please tell her I’ll be with her in a while.”

The soldier nodded. “I will, Princess. The chef asks you if you would like breakfast.”

She shook her head and fought a yawn. “No. Please thank him, but I don’t think I will have time for it.”

“Yes.” The soldier bowed again. “With your excuse, Princess.”

She rolled her eyes at the thought of Chocolate Velvet glaring angrily at her for foregoing sleep and breakfast. Maybe he would have breakfast with her. “Please, forget that. I’ll accept breakfast. I will visit the Local Militia Headquarters, but afterwards, I would be delighted to enjoy breakfast.”

***

Discord stayed close to the fireplace in the breakfast room. Just outside of the bedroom Lord Gilad shared with Lady Gwendolen and adjoined a sitting and meeting room. It was a nice place to rest or spend time with a friend. It had the prevalent rustic luxury to be found around the mansion. The maids busied themselves preparing breakfast. Quick and dedicated, he had trouble finding any faults in their work as they set the table and prepared the room. They lighted torches and candles, adjusted curtains, straightened out rugs and tablecloths. He rolled his eyes at the thought that the cause for their dedication was Gwendolen’s work ethic of ‘do it right or I’ll tan your hide’.

“Hi!” One of the maids, a pretty and young thing covered in orange and gray greeted him. The black maid uniform clashed a bit, but she didn’t seem to mind, staring up at Discord with vivid yellow eyes. Her soft voice reminded him of Fluttershy and he wondered if she didn’t feel out of place in that environment of fierce warriors and mighty lords. Then again… One ought to be aware of stepping on Fluttershy too. Anyway, he greeted her. “Would you like something special for breakfast? If it is available in the mansion’s pantry, I would love to get it for you!”

He raised a griffon talon. “I’ll have whatever Lord Gilad will, thank you very much.”

“Alright then!” She smiled at him. “We’ll be serving breakfast soon.”

“Wait.” He raised a paw before she left. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

She sat on her haunches with a little insecure frown and the tip of her brown tail kept twitching nervously. “Yes… I think I can answer a few questions.”

“Do you live here in the city?” He made himself comfortable on one of the seats next to the soothing heat of the fireplace. “Did you come from another city?”

“Oh! I was born in Griffindell!” She smiled in a way Discord wondered if she had feared ‘forbidden questions’. “My uncle owns a strawberry farm within the city walls.”

Discord blinked. “How in the ever-loving world do you grow strawberries in this climate?”

Her smile turned to a beaming grin, her wings opened, and she tip-tapped her forefeet happily. “We have greenhouses! Our house has vassals which own corn and wheat farms, but in the winter only the strawberries in the greenhouses will grow, so we all work together to help feed the cattle and griffons in the city! Which is why the headmaid has put me in charge of the mansion’s little greenhouse!”

“Oh. Then why are you working here in the mansion as a maid?” He crossed his arms. “Instead of, you know, with your family?”

“Ah. Lady Gwendolen says a period of servitude is good for all griffons. Since I’m not a good hunter, much less a warrior or monster hunter, I work in the mansion.” She gasped and waved her paws. “But it’s not like… Bad. I really like it here. Some of us even decide to stay longer. Lady Gwendolen pays us really well and there is a career to follow if we want. Not to mention that we even have a lot of fun.”

Finally, she frowned. “Unless Lady Gwendolen is angry. When she’s angry, she’s very scary.”

“Yeah. I can imagine.” He said plainly, but she smiled again.

“Well… We’ll serve breakfast soon!” And after declaring so, she left hopping and singing softly out the door that led out of the dining room. Gilad soon came out of the door to the bedroom and greeted the mostly younger maids. He wore a simple gray cape with silver hemming and greeted Discord as he approached.

“Greetings, Discord.” He nodded, taking a seat by the fire with calm countenance. Then he chuckled and grinned almost childishly. “Is anything… Out of order?”

“Yes. A large and scary griffon from the north thinks he’s funny.” Discord chuckled back at him, before he cleared his throat. “Not at all, though. I just came from talking with Gwendolen in her tower.”

“Oh. She let you into the tower?” The mighty griffon let his eyes bulge in surprise.

“I… Uh… Invited myself.” Discord shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “I bullied Gervina into giving me her key… It didn’t go very well in the end.”

Gilad chuckled. “Oh, poor Gervina. She’s in trouble now.”

While he laughed and Discord wondered if he had done something terrible, the older maid that was the steely gray headmaid approached them. “Excuse me, Lord Gilad. Lord Graham has arrived during the night, and he would like to see you, if that is acceptable.”

“Yes.” He turned to her. “Please, bring him to me. We will share breakfast.”

She nodded with a smile and retreated out of the room as Gilad turned back to Discord. “If I remember correctly, you have met Lord Graham already.”

“Oh…” The one Discord had convinced, with his mate, not to kill the Griffonian soldiers marching around. “Yes. Stern fellow. His Lady Geena helped a lot, convincing him from killing those soldiers. I really liked meeting both.”

“Lady Geena is one of Gwendolen’s Loremasters.” Gilad told him, staring at the fire in the fireplace. “A particularly good and loyal one.”

“Is that so?” What did he mean by that? She seemed nice enough when Discord talked to her. As nice as someone willing to go against her mate to save the lives of a bunch of clueless griffons. Interesting. She even mentioned she would prefer peace.

Much like he looked the day Discord had met him on the snowfield between the trees, Lord Graham was a large griffon. As large as Gilad and he wore a gray wolf skin over his black pelt, slightly softer than his gray head. He didn’t have his armor, after all, Discord supposed that wearing armor inside for no reason was probably uncouth, or something.

“My lord.” Both griffons acknowledged each other with a respectful bow before the visitor bowed to Discord. The headmaid left him and minded her duties. “Lord of Chaos.”

He just waved at the griffon while Gilad smiled broadly, holding his paw in a greeting. “Welcome to Griffinsky, Graham. Can I offer you breakfast?”

He spoke while he made himself comfortable on a seat by the fire. “Thank you, Lord Gilad. I’ll accept your hospitality.”

“Hello, Lord Graham. Nice meeting you again.” Discord smiled and offered a paw for him to shake, a much more modest gesture than their warm greeting, but friendly enough.

“The pleasure is all mine, Lord of Chaos.” Graham gave him a discreet, but earnest smile.

“The maids should take some time before they are ready to serve breakfast. To what do I owe the pleasure, Graham?”

“Geena is getting herself ready for the Gathering Storm festival and I'd rather get out of her way for a while.” The black griffon smiled for a second and Gilad smiled too.

“You’re a stick in the mud, Graham…” Discord initially recoiled from his words and grim tone, but as the two chuckled at the jest, he came to realize it was friendly banter.

“Unfortunately, there is another reason I came to see you, milord.” Graham spoke again, shifting to a grim tone. He took a second before he continued. “I am sorry to bring such a wicked matter into discussion before breakfast, but something terrible has happened. There is a band of unsavory griffons causing trouble in my land. Young griffons organized into a coalition who seemed to search for some youthful adventure. Some harmless robbing has been credited to them, but they grew bolder as I was too lenient, waiting for them to wise up. A few returned home, but many didn’t... A hunter’s cottage was burned. A hunter was killed and so were his mate and his daughter with signs of particularly evil deeds. My scouts tell me they have found their camp in the Blackland Woods. Thirty or so griffons.”

Gilad’s fist slammed his seat’s armrest. “Unbelievable! I thought we were past this.”

“Indeed.” Graham nodded. “My scouts have buried the victims, but they decided against bringing the bandits to justice, and the reason I am here, and not hunting them, is that something curious is happening.”

Once he had both Discord’s and Gilad’s attention he went on. “Geena returned from Griffindell with Lady Gwendolen’s orders to let the prisoners return to the South. I would have followed her command if not for the fact I fear many of them would join these brigands.”

In Discord’s opinion, the likelihood of those griffons joining a group of bandits was low. Lower than the temperatures in that place and that was one of the reasons. They would just want to go back to the South and sort the whole mess out. The fact the Chancellor dupped their leaders in to marching against Snow Mountains shouldn’t be forgotten. But Discord could understand Lord Graham’s concern though. Especially after what he had mentioned… The bandit might even prey on the soldiers trying to return home.

In the end, Discord agreed with his measured response, and Gilad seemed to agree as well, nodding at his words. But Gilad nor discord spoke, waiting for Graham to elaborate further.

“Geena has told me there is a caravan coming from Wayfarer’s Rest. Some special queen called Gilda seems to be making noise and becoming a banner of The Harpy’s Cult among the southerners. She’s dragging several of our supporters from Griffonstone to be split between Frozenlake and Brokenhorn. It’s a welcome addition to our sparsely populated lands, but Geena wants to let this Gilda deal with the brigands. Later, allow her to take quite a few Southerner prisoners to Brokenhorn.”

Gilda? Gilda… Gilda. Discord was almost sure he had heard that name before, but he wasn’t sure when, or how. Ultimately, the name meant nothing to him. Maybe he should ask Lady Gwendolen.

“Deserters?” Gilad blinked a few times, and it was almost funny. “I’m surprised. I thought that the southerners hated us with a passion.

Graham nodded. “Geena’s Loremasters have been combing through the prisoners and convinced several of them to stay with us, despite Geena’s complaining that ‘they are a mess’. Two score souls are to join the refugees and spread within the Frozenlake Region and a few hundred are meant to join the caravan further north to be absorbed by Brokenhorn.”

“I can’t imagine Griskjal would be too happy about too many of the southerners joining under his wings.” Gilad sighed and held his lores, closing his eyes for a couple of seconds. “This has Gwendolen’s paws all over it. I wonder how she means to convince Griskjal…”

“What is the problem?” Discord asked and Gilad obliged, while Lord Graham kept a respectful silence.

“It is his land. Graham is supposed to take care of it all.” Gilad waved at the other griffon. “He’s not some wet-beaked youngling that needs to prove his mettle, but this situation will raise some eyebrows. The griffons fall under Gwendolen’s care, and he would follow her request anyways, but the bandits are a problem. Some upstart lordlings might decide to start trouble over this, especially if they happen to preside over a small settlement in the endangered area. This is not a good time for this sort of trouble.”

Gilad turned to the other griffon again. “I appreciate you coming over to see me over this, Graham. What would you have me do?”

“If such is the will of the Mother of Storms, as put forward by Lady Gwendolen, then it is no more than my place to obey, as I obeyed when she mated me to my Lady Geena.” Graham spoke in a sullen, too formal tone. “It is for the good of the Hold that I fear. It has come to my knowledge that Mayor Gavingkal is backing these brigands.”

“Ah…” Gilad nodded. Discord missed it, but something went unsaid. Looking at him, Gilad decided to explain. “Gavingkal is the mayor of a major city under Frozenlake called Feathertip. He is problematic and taken to criticize Lord Graham’s relationship with Lady Geena. And if she starts giving orders for griffons to take care of his problems, insufferable tools such as Gavingkal might try to use it to accuse Graham of weakness.”

“Right…” Discord rolled his eyes.

Gilad held his lores again. “He believes he can replace Graham, despite the last griffon that tried it ending with a dagger through his skull. All because some griffons don’t understand that Lord Graham’s permissiveness over Geena’s proclivities are both a sign of respect for Mother Harpy’s commands and for Lady Geena’s character.”

Discord still wasn’t sure he understood what the issue was. But that sounded like the problem was going to take care of itself. Both on the criminal griffons and on the one questioning Lord Graham’s authority. That was some grim stuff, but it was also a good insight into Northerner politics.

“For the while,” Gilad spoke again with a grin at Graham. “Remain at Griffinsky. We will eat some good food and maybe later we will go out for a hunt. If you want, you can inspect the troops. There is much we can talk about and there are quite many new recruits to whip into shape.”

“Ah…” Discord raised a claw. “Just to be sure… You mentioned a griffon was killed and that another may soon. Maybe dozens. Over politics.”

“It’s not ‘politics’.” Graham frowned. “That is a thing for Griffonstonians. This is about honor and duty. A city mayor is supposed to care for his people and to obey his liege, as are the Jarls supposed to care for Snow Mountains and obey the Lord of the Black Gates. This is our strength; this is Our Mother’s commandment. Greedy weaklings that think themselves strong such as Mayor Gavingkal and his goons are a disease that must be weeded out.”

“I see…” Discord nodded a few times, processing what he had said. “I mean… Doesn’t the Royal House or the Hall of Friendship get on your case about that? At least the Griffonian government?”

“Dealing with Griffonstone, ponies and Celestia is my job. His is to help me manage my Hold.” Gilad shook his head, but then he laughed heartily. “It wouldn’t be the first time I would have to spin a tale for the higher ups to leave us alone. I wish it was only Celestia… She leaves us to ourselves… She has done that since the Emperor died. But there is always some southerner politician that thinks he can profit from us.”

Finally, he shook his head again, but sadly, and let go a long sigh. “It would be best to deal with this without loss of life. But we are not ponies, and The Harpy is not Celestia. There is a point from which a griffon cannot return without meeting Our Mother first...”

Discord’s first instinct was to argue, but he held it back. Yes. Those were not ponies, and The Harpy wasn’t Celestia. At least that was a good argument to keep Gwendolen around… He fought back a dark chuckle.

Meanwhile, their conversation shifted towards trivial happenings in Graham’s city. The well-being of the prisoners and plans to let whoever wanted to stay to mix in with the caravan he had mentioned. It appeared Lady Geena would be taking care of it all.

What was the problem between Graham and his mate? When he had first met them in the ambush where Discord saved all those griffons, they seemed like the perfect griffon couple. Or, at least, a perfect northerner griffon couple.

Good thing to talk about with Gilad without Lady Gwendolen or Lord Graham around.

***

“Princess, are you alright?” The unicorn mare next to her, with all possible caution, asked as though it might anger her. A beautiful silver-maned cyan unicorn mare stared up at her from under the red hood. Large blue eyes that reminded Celestia of Shining Armor’s, filled with worry.

Two contradictory ideas ponies still held about her, despite her earnest efforts to root them out. They, somehow, feared her wrath while they also worried she might injure herself if she walked outside alone. Less than six hours after the Royal Guard arrived, their superior had already organized an escort for her while Chocolate Velvet was busy assisting the griffons at the hospital.

The unicorn with her was one of her Justiciars. One of the younger ones right out of Canterlot University, summoned to the Royal House because of her outstanding grades.

“Don’t worry.” Celestia rubbed a hoof under her horn. “It’s just been a long and stressful night. You were saying the Royal Bailiff sent all available Justiciars?”

“Yes, Princess. Since Golden Rule isn’t available, they decided I was a good choice to assist you with the defendant. And that I should report to you. Given the urgency, the others are already spreading throughout town.” The mare nodded. “We are limited to the Justiciars already in the region, as communication with the Heartland is still quite difficult. Teleportation, even more so.”

Celestia’s thoughts were sluggish, crawling through a fog of tiredness, but at least the presence of the Justiciars should keep the griffons from killing each other. She had to focus on the young hen who had fought her.

“I see. Good job. Also on collating all the information on this young hen. Do you have any final thoughts?” The noise from the wheels on the irregular cobblestones annoyed Celestia. In her tired and stressed state, even the brightness of the clouds under the sun and the citronella aroma inside the vehicle irritated her. And so did all the implied issues with the present situation in the griffon city. Not to mention the hot air that rose from the street. At least musketfire had stopped popping occasionally.

The problem wasn’t the young mare, the air, the noise. Not even the young hen she had captured. It was her mood.

“Well, it is very strange, Princess…” Inexperience got in the way of the young Justiciar, and her shifting eyes made it clear for one so used to reading ponies. “I don’t know how to put into words the uneasiness her file brings me.”

“Every once in a while, a creature escapes through the cracks of our social assistance networks and it is never a pretty sight. But don’t worry. We’ll go through this together and you are doing a good job.” Celestia reassured her with a smile.

The pony-drawn vehicle stopped gently and a pegasus Royal Guard opened the door on the princess’ side. “We’ve arrived, Your Highness.”

Celestia disembarked to step on the smoother, well fitted-together, cobblestone of the walkway in front of the Local Militia Headquarters. A flat, single floor building spread over a significant area. It had most of the city block to itself with a fenced area around a figurative backyard, but the top was closed, like a bird cage. A few detained griffons enjoyed what sun filtered through the clouds, watched by griffons in leather barding and large shaded glasses. Rosé walls and white pillars adorned a covered entrance and a flat roof with a parapet, which was also painted in white, topped the building.

Celestia’s ears pulled back at the sight because when she suggested that the griffons used the system invented by Sir Stronghoof, a few hundred years ago, she wanted to standardize the law enforcement efforts. She certainly didn’t expect griffons to copy Manehattan’s architecture simply because Manehattan had the model headquarters. Additionally, the one in front of her frowning eyes was the fourth facility in a succession of strangely Manehattan-style buildings the griffons had built.

Her frustrated frown turned sour as she concluded she ought to be happy they kept Griffonstone’s force up to date with regulations. Even if it meant tearing down and rebuilding in the same place. As though construction of public buildings and the whole process of auctioning weren’t the most obvious and overdone ways of embezzlement since the times of the Republic of All Creatures.

Sometimes she felt so tired of it all.

The formation of Royal Guards, all in their shiny golden armor, stood at attention before the entrance. The city’s Lord Protector Celestia knew as Gilmara was there, in her immaculate leather armor and with a couple of her griffons by the entrance. Her black spotted black pelt went well with the dark tan of the leather armor and her yellow eyes focused on Celestia as she talked to the ponies.

“Princess.” The sergeant stood at attention.

“Please, ensure your subordinates do not harass griffons in need of the local militia’s services for reasons of my safety.” She gave the pegasus mare a pleading frown. “Do what you must but keep the entrance open.”

“Absolutely, Princess.” The red and blue maned mare coughed into her white, armored hoof. “I’ll be careful we don’t disrupt the locals and their job.”

Finally, the alicorn and the young mare in the red Justiciar robes approached the middle-aged griffoness with the ‘no-nonsense’ stare in her eyes. “Welcome, Princess Celestia. It is an honor. Your bird’s waiting for you in the interrogation room. Follow me, please.”

Celestia nodded and followed. Nothing better than an official that just wanted to get the job done as efficiently as possible and such was their way of climbing ranks. Professionalism over politics. It reminded her of Gast.

The reception desk was empty, but the next room was full of activity. Griffon law enforcement officers could be identified by their leather armor and their forelegs not being cuffed to heavy furniture. Scribbling pencils and conversations filled the hall dotted with desks and griffons either giving or taking testimonies. The indefinable light blue-green linoleum was clean and there was a path in the middle of all the desks. A T-shaped passage that led to the back and other parts of the facility. Funny enough, the smell of donuts and coffee hanging in the air was the same as in every local militia headquarters across the Federation.

By the conversations Celestia managed to understand, most tried looting abandoned homes and stores in the wake of the night’s conflict. She wouldn’t feel so bad if she could keep out of her head that many of them probably acted out of desperation, given the situation in Griffonia. At least, the system seemed to work, as there were several welfare workers there, talking to griffons.

“Go on, Miss Mallet.” Celestia spoke as they walked past the griffons. As much as she would like to get involved, she had more pressing matters to tend to. “So that the Lord Protector will hear.”

“Miss Gwineth was born in Thunderpeak.” The young mare started sheepishly, but soon gained confidence. “She and her older brother lived in an illegal, and thus underdeveloped suburban area.”

“Shit.” The black griffon sighed, all exasperated. While the mare gasped at the word, Celestia found it refreshing that some official had the lack of decorum of using such a word in her presence. Which was ironic, as she usually didn’t like such words. “I thought she looked the part. Let me guess… Drugs, debts, crimes and then prison? Until someone gave her salvation. A way out, with hooks all over it…”

“Well, yes…” Miss Mallet continued with a frown. “We’re not sure, but… She and her brother were frequently contacted by welfare agent Golden Mesh, yet they resisted all her attempts to help. They were abandoned by their parents and never registered before. Miss Gwineth was involved with unregulated prostitution and her brother was known for making debts and losing their money with unregulated gambling. Eventually Gwineth was found in an alley with three corpses and arrested. But due to lack of evidence, she was let go. Soon, she was arrested again, after murdering another griffon in their home. Her brother testified against her, and she confessed.”

Mallet sighed at the weight of the whole affair. “According to his testimony, she killed his friend. Others have called the griffon that died in their apartment her tomfriend. But it gets weird… Miss Mesh tried contacting her and her brother when they were arrested… And there were no survivors. According to an investigation, she killed her brother, the accompanying officers, Miss Mesh and then she killed herself.”

“Well…” The black griffoness wasn’t happy, but her words carried plenty of sarcasm. “She is quite lively now… Some of my birds say she’s special. One wanted to let her go because she’s going to draw some ‘bad mojo’ to us. Some of the military birds freaked out and wanted us to give her to Blackfeather even before she arrived from the hospital.”

“How did this not reach me?” Celestia let her voice raise. “Any of it?”

“Feh… Some crooked bird along the way shoved all the evidence under his tail with the money ‘they’ paid them.” The Lord Protector scoffed. “Then ‘they’ intimidated a few others, blamed it all on drugs and nobody looked twice. Then they got someone that looked like our little ghost and put her in the cell. The version that reached Canterlot probably read like ‘Drugged up bird trashed local militia in Thunderpeak and died. All is normal.’”

“That sounds like it must have taken a lot of resources. Who are ‘they’?” The red-wearing mare put a hoof on her chin before she looked back as Celestia was no longer with them. She had stopped walking and her ears flopped to the sides of her head like she had the joy ripped out of her. She closed her eyes and shivered while the young mare gave her a confused frown. “Princess?”

“Missy, ‘they’ are probably freaking out right about now because they didn’t expect a Royal Justiciar would dig all that up.” Gilmara punched the mare’s shoulder with a congratulatory grin. “You just threw the biggest pile of shit at the biggest fan since Nightmare Moon revoked everycreature’s day privileges.”

“Oh my gosh! You don’t mean that The Lion is involved, do you?! Oh my gosh!” While Mallet sat on the linoleum and hyperventilated, Celestia resumed walking with a quicker pace. The others followed, but she said nothing.

The whole situation wasn’t normal. She was right, and they were under attack… Ponyville’s militia. Twilight and Cadance, the griffon airship, the museum, the Cult of The Harpy. Now the northerner supporters flee the city and Gast kills himself. On top of it all, was this story about Gwineth. Why would the Nightmare try to conceal itself so? It could have convinced griffons that it was The Harpy and that ‘her’ identity needed to be protected for believability reasons… But what a stretch that was. All Nightmares usually cared about was feeding. They were just not as sophisticated and Celestia doubted one could pull off half of those things.

Gwineth’s case was emblematic.

If Luna hadn’t told Celestia it was a Nightmare, she would be ready to believe that The Harpy had returned and was working with the northerners. Gast believed it. Gustav too. And every single griffon that fled Griffonstone. All so Blackfeather officers wouldn’t get a hold of them… Individuals would flee out of fear, true. But someone elaborated the plan that would allow them to. Did they simply want to spare their supporters imprisonment and safeguard their assets? It was possible. But why would Gast kill himself then? He knew Celestia would protect him from retaliation. At the same time, GSA mutinous soldiers were killing Blackfeathers as quickly as possible.

She really needed to find out what exactly the Blackefeathers knew.

And now, Gilad was certainly involved. The Lion. No way a simple isolated cell pulled off what Miss Mallet and Gilmara described. She should’ve seen it sooner.

She stopped and raised a foreleg so that the others would stop too. “Miss Mallet, I have a job for you. Kindly take the Royal Guard detachment outside to the Royal Archives here in the city and have them assist you locating all there is about Miss Gwineth. I wish to know where in the chain of command everything stopped.”

The Justiciar gave her a confused stare. “Sure… Sure, Princess. I will, right away.”

“Go, go.” Celestia urged and she offered a quick bow and hurried away to the entrance. Celestia and the Lord Protector watched until her red robe vanished past the door and the mess of talking griffons.

“Alright.” The black hen turned to the princess. “Right… That’s why I like working with youth. They usually don’t question orders… Even when it’s obvious you’re pulling them out of the action. What about me, Princess?”

Celestia gave her a naughty, mischievous grin. “I have a plan, Lord Protector. And I need your help. Once it is all said and done, I will grant you pardon for letting a prisoner go as part of the plan to uncover her supporters’ misdeeds.”

“Oh! Sweet! A sting!” The black griffoness grinned back at her. “I always wanted to do one of those!”

Comments

[Kevin Lee]

I can understand Celestia wanting to compartmentalize a little black-op she is willing to try using to find a trail that could lead her to various puppet masters, but since Mallet dug up some very revealing deep, dark secrets that corrupt griffons (along with The Harpy) have been doing in such a short time, sending her to the archives alone might prompt somegriff to "shut her up" before too much is revealed.

Oh, and nice that the real Celestia finally noticed that someone evidently sent falsified orders to the fleet--likely Chrysalis or an expendable changeling sitting in for Celestia.

[Metemponychosis]

11360599
Well, Mallet didn't go alone. Celestia told her to take the Royal Guard detachment outside.
But... Will 'things happen'? That is a certainty.

Just wait until she gets the report the airship was destroyed and everyone escaped. I mean... With all that's been happening, she's gotta be under a lot of pressure.

[Jinnchin]

Always enjoy seeing the counter play between Celestia and the Cult. Even if Celestia isn't aware its the Harpy she is playing against!

Gwineth doesn't seem like the type that will be overly suspicious of an easy getaway!

[Metemponychosis]

11837558
Gwineth is incredibly fun to write, with how violent, fickle and dense she can be. Just you wait to see her co-star with Gallus and Gabby.