Piece of Parchment

by Metemponychosis

The Costs and Prizes of Loyalty

“The sneaky bastards!” Gwineth growled with a sneering scowl. The sound came closer to a screeching bird than the roar of an angry griffon. Having lived his entire life in Griffonstone, Guylan was used to roaring griffons. Usually when they were particularly miffed. Her screech was eerie, unnerving, and loud.

Perfectly preened, her steely blue pelt shone in the flash of lightning like a weapon on itself, even soaked under the rain. Her muscular and fit body evocated thoughts of the stereotypical northerner murder machines observers reported. She was quite attractive, in that way ‘scaroused’ ponies sometimes mentioned as a joke. However, the stomping feet at the wet paving cobblestone and whiny words ruined it. “Can you believe this? They almost had me convinced!”

Guylan could barely see beyond the light provided by their portable gas lamps. The magical streetlights were out, the rain made seeing even more difficult, and they had to speak loudly because of the racket the rain caused. It was like their own little world, and they were her audience. Everything taken into consideration, and speaking as an adult, the hen’s reaction came closer to a cub throwing a temper tantrum than a northerner warrior. The fact she didn’t seem to care made it worse. Her behavior reminded Guylan of the higher-ups who thought the grunts were merely their servants.

On the brighter side, not much of an intelligent conversation went on. Surely, the hen was stunningly beautiful, but her taste in friends would’ve kept Guylan from talking to her in any other situation.

“Uh… I don’t mean to disagree… But you kinda cried like a fledgling and totally believed them, Miss Gwineth.” The male next to the northerner hen spoke… Queen. Guylan had to remember his new overlords used ‘queen’ instead of ‘hen’. Dark gray body with an off-white fluff, neck, and head, the griffon next to Gwineth cocked an eyebrow at her with his comment. Then he winced at his own words when she stared daggers at him.

“You’re just a random criminal nobody cares about.” Her words dripped poison thicker than the rain. On her four legs, her height reached higher, and she knew how to use her size to intimidate. Not even flaring her wings at him, like most griffons would. It was the overbearing way she leaned against others. “Do you want to end hanging like… Whatever his name was?”

Barely after closing her beak, Gwineth turned to another griffon next to her. “Garon! You knew the lord Protector wanted to fool me into thinking they were sending me to Shatteredrock! Didn’t you?”

She simply talked to the goons, ignoring Guylan, Colonel Gaspar, and the other soldiers. Were the northerner female not so important, they would have left already. Guylan would have. But he supposed the Colonel had outstanding reasons for his patience. If what he heard about what happened at the teleporter held any truth. In truth, it seemed as though they had no choice but to ally with the northerners. General Gamaliel’s revelations about the Blackfeathes’ exploits and a firs paw display of their ruthlessness had already spread like wildfire among the ranks of the GSA. There was no going back.

“I didn’t have the opportunity to tell you, Lady Gwineth!” The big griffon looked stupid. A giant mountain of muscles taking a step back, sitting on the walkway and waving his paws defensively. Stumbling on words with his thick voice. “With all that’s happened, I didn’t even have the presence to tell you… It seemed so small. Compared to… Everything.”

She gave him a distrustful, threatening hum and a stare from her predatorial blue eyes, but ultimately let go of the subject. The two groups had met in front of the local militia headquarters and the rain didn’t let up just because they had to talk. For incomprehensible reasons, they never walked into the lobby. A couple of grunts on the GSA side held umbrellas for Guylan and Colonel Gaspar under the rain, but it didn’t bother the northerner or her friends. It would be funny if griffons weren’t staging coup d’état or dying left and right at the same time.

Maybe the criminals they had to work with didn’t want them to see whatever happened there. Maybe Gwineth didn’t want to talk in front of the others. Guylan could only guess, and his superior didn’t seem to care. Griffonian Standing Army grunts killed Blackfeather officers in cold blood, Blackfeather officers arrested children, and northerners bombed a hospital… Common sense had been one of the first victims of the last two days.

For a military griffon wanting to bury the dead officers and preferably go through the night without dying, Guylan had at least avoided dying so far. He escorted his superior, Colonel Gaspar, to talk to the northerner hen and learned a little about him. The old griffon sure had spent time under the rain. Both literally and figuratively. He looked like it too. The wet fur, but mostly the soulless, stressed stare evidenced so. The dense wall of stupidity the northerner hen radiated also helped.

“Lady Gwineth…” The old colonel took the word as soon as her attention was on him. “We can then take you back to Snow Mountains without Royal Guards or Justiciars nosing in. I understand you are considerably important, and it would be unfortunate if you were injured or captured.”

‘Again’. It would be unfortunate if it happened again. Guylan inhaled deeply and kept his beak shut. The word never left his thoughts. It would also be great if she could be removed from the whole operation. But the officer also left that unsaid.

“I need to grab my sword!” Gwineth frowned at the colonel with frustration. “I bet the Abomination has it!”

Gaspar patiently shook his head. The experienced officer had gotten used to dealing with superiors and unreasonable government officials. Apparently, nobility and privilege really came in all flavors. In their case, it seemed to be the dense northerner hen with a side of personal entitlement.

“Princess Celestia, Prince Chocolate Velvet, and several Royal Guards have taken over the Blackfeather headquarters. We have torrential rain and there is no activity in the area to mask an approach.” Colonel Gaspar told the hen. “They are expecting trouble and will be ready for an attack. It is a terrible idea.”

“She’s in there with my sword!” Gwineth gave a frowny whine, but immediately after raised her beak and put a paw on her chest. “I can do it. Just give me a few good shooter birds.”

Gaspar shook his head at her reaction, repeating his words with a concerned frown. “It is exactly what Celestia wanted you to do, and why she set up the fake transfer with Lord Protector Gilmara. It couldn’t possibly be a more obvious trap.”

“But I need my sword!” Gwineth sat on the wet cobblestone and her blue paws held her head in a frantic panic. “Lady Gwendolen has ordered me to retrieve my sword! She is gonna be pissed with me if Celestia figures out the spells on that thing. You don’t want to see Lady Gwendolen when she’s angry!”

Standing on four legs, her feet kept dancing nervously. “I can’t just leave the town and abandon it. Not to mention it’s my dancing sword! I need it! I can’t just get another!”

Colonel Gaspar sighed, held his lores, and shook his head again. Dejection in the form of a GSA officer. “Fine. We had a plan and soldiers inside… The chances of it working are negligible, so we abandoned the plan in favor of removing you from the city.”

The colonel sighed. “But I suppose you won’t listen. We need to remove Celestia from there before she learns anything… Like the Blackfeather’s notes on the northerner Cult of The Harpy. Then, I suppose, you could search for your sword.”

Gwineth’s eyes bulged with a finger before her beak. “Shhh… You’re not supposed to mention Her name out loud. For… Magical reasons.”

Colonel Gaspar’s eyes squinted and Guylan could practically see the patience leaving his body. But said nothing, neither did Gaspa. Instead the northerner hen spoke as though she had figured out the number for the national lottery.

“I got it!” She cried, raising a finger and looking much too pleased with herself. “I got this! You guys do whatever plan you had, and I go in to take my dancing sword and destroy all the evidence! I just need a little distraction.”

“Our plan…” Gaspar fixed a serious stare. “Started with taking you away to safety and then bombing the place with cannons. We would later claim we believed the Blackfeathers had hidden in there with a dangerous magical artifact. Hopefully, destroying any document they might have produced and killing Celestia’s Justiciar. It is bad enough Celestia had our soldiers take the place with her Royal Guards, but with you there, this excuse is even less likely to work. The truth is she will not be leaving that place.”

“No offense…” One of the thugs with the northerner hen obnoxiously rolled his eyes and started counting on his fingers like a cub. Practically another overgrown and ugly mountain of muscles under a puke-green fur and feathers. “Celestia probably could shield the building with magic. Griffons on the street say she can revive dead ponies and assume direct control over their heads. I’m pretty sure that means she’s powerful enough to protect the building. We really should draw her out. Maybe sabotage a mana battery station and get the city without magical power to homes. Ponies are sappy. That’ll draw her out.”

The logic. It boggled the mind. The thug might not be wrong, though. Albeit through sinuous ‘logic’. However, Guylan didn’t want to turn griffonstonian citizens into hostages.

Gwineth waved a dismissive gesture at her minion. “Yeah, yeah… Alicorns are powerful and all that. But they aren’t as powerful as ponies would have you think.”

Guylan inhaled profoundly, swallowing his sarcasm yet again.

“Anyway…” Gwineth gave a little excited hop. “I have a great plan. Let’s sabotage a mana station and draw her out of the Blackfeather headquarters. This way I can get in, grab my sword, destroy any documents, and get out. If I’m lucky, I might even take out the Prince-Consort!”

Once again, the Colonel seemed to summon from an internal source of patience and serenity, ever so subtly frowning at the northerner. “Celestia is not stupid. She’ll know we’re up to something if a battery station goes down. Even with the storm. She might not even consider it worth investigating herself if she is holding on to important things.”

“Like…” One of the soldiers holding umbrellas for Guylan and Colonel Gaspar deadpanned. Unwarranted, speaking out of turn, but spot on nonetheless. “The Princess might wait for civil services to get it fixed… As any normal creature does when the lights go out.”

Gwineth grinned like a child with a brilliant idea. “Let’s blow it up then! Put some griffons in danger and make her get involved.”

Perhaps out of place, like the soldier, Guylan poked a talon at his own head and glared at the northerner female. “Are you out of your mind? We are not going to blow up the city because you want to retrieve your sword!”

Gaspar did not reproach Guylan or their subordinate, and even nodded at the latter’s words, but chose a more diplomatic approach. “Furthermore, such a plan is likely to fail. We won’t be able to keep her busy for long enough.”

“Ah. But here’s the genius of my plan! We’re gonna make a mess! A real mess. With lots of innocent griffons in danger.” She pulled Garon to her with a paw over his shoulders and grinned widely again. “My new friends are going to distract Celestia for us. They’ll make such a big ruckus, she’ll be busy for long enough for me to get things done!”

Wasn’t that Garon guy a local militia? Siding with the northerners could be understandable, but his job included protecting the population from thugs, for feathers sake.

“Sir!” A white and gray grunt in the GSA green uniform cried. “Permission to speak.”

Great… His own guys decided to be silly too. The Colonel nodded at the soldier, though.

“I understand killing loyalist soldiers and officers, but I did not expect our siding with the good griffons would include letting petty criminals loose on the city causing chaos.” The soldier cried-complained with a properly distressed glower. But he kept a professional posture other than that. “What is going to keep them from looting stores or invading homes? They are criminals!”

“Or why would they even do that, knowing they’re expendable cannon fodder?” The other soldier, next to him asked, impatiently holding his umbrella. Had the northerner hen thought that deeply into her amazing plan. Unlikely.

“They cannot stand against the Royal Guard, Lady Gwineth.” Gaspar promptly reminded Gwineth, adding to the soldiers’ worries, and meaning to dissuade her. Guylan would likely have just yelled and told her to go sit in the corner. But ‘professionalism’ and all that… “They are more military than police force. It’s not going to end well for anyone involved.”

“Don’t worry!” Gwineth smiled at him, squeezing the other mountain of muscles Garon was against her like a pet. “These awesome griffons have understood there are more important things at stake than their petty squabbles and insecurities!”

“Yeah!” One of the griffons who should be behind the bars piped and others nodded in mindless agreement. “There are truly important things most griffons can’t understand.”

“Did she just say you’re going to die?” The first soldier glowered unbelieving at the griffons across from his side, and Guylan wanted to scream but remained silent. “And you’re okay with it?”

“You guys wouldn’t understand!” The brown and white thug next to her nearly invoked the northerner’s wrath by almost hitting her with his excited flaring wings. He did manage to convince Guylan of his sincerity. “You weren’t here! You didn’t see when the Lady in the Storm appeared before all of us and freed Lady Gwineth from the militias! She told us the words of Swordmaiden Gouda who lived before the ponies had helped King Grover unite the kingdom!”

“Ghadah…” Gwineth deadpanned. “Her name was Gahdah.”

“The lady of what now?” Guylan frowned and honestly worried for their mental health. “The… The dream thing? Like… Are you serious? What even is a swordmaiden?”

“The lights went off!” Another of the ex-detainees intruded on the conversation, bug-eyed and making wide gestures with his paws. “Lightning was loud and all over, and everyone saw her! All white and black, large and beautiful like… Only she could be! She saved Gwineth! They were getting ready to take her out to Shatteredrock, no trial, no nothing! Just straight mean business, because you know our law enforcement is crooked as a vulture’s beak. Garon was going to hit her, but The Lady appeared in the darkness and held his paw! She even helped Gwineth stand!”

“We just told you the Shatteredrock thing was a ruse…” Guylan, never one for minding those urban legends, thought them silly. But the testimony reached another level of stupid.

“Well, she still saved Lady Gwineth!” The outlaw griffon groused and crossed his forelegs. “And she came out of nowhere. Like she could teleport! Like a unicorn!”

“Don’t compare The Mother of Storms to a pony, you moron.” Another ex-detainee grumbled.

Another one, next to him, scoffed and threw a wide dismissive gesture. “They don’t get it! Dude! You didn’t see it. Lady Gwineth was dejected. She couldn’t even walk! Then She spoke to Gwineth and she changed. Like water to wine, bro! She was filled with a new vigor. We’re talking about The Har- About something larger than life! I wanna be on her good side if I buy it tonight… I wanna make my place in the Stormy Eyrie. And Lady Gwineth promised it to anyone who submits to the Mother of Storms until The Lion is crowned.”

“That sounds arbitrary…” Guylan raised an eyebrow. “A griffon can get benefits if they change sides now, but not later?”

“Makes sense, man!” The street griffon grinned. “She wants to see which griffons are loyal. You gotta take a side. And take the right side, or She’s gonna remember that.”

“Yeah.” Another thug soaking under the rain opened his forelegs in an earnest gesture. “You guys are on our side, aren’t you? So, you’ve already chosen Her side. If you’re out in the rain, you’re gonna get wet. There is no point in worrying about the water.”

Amazing… Guylan doubted at any time in his life they ever had such commitment to anything. Like making a career. Perhaps building a family, working hard, and building some wealth. But something weird happens, a psycho tells him a few words and he is ready to believe in the unbelievable. Maybe Guylan was the stupid one. For making a career and doing his best at building his life. He should just have ‘sung the right song’…

“Besides, you are all being overly dramatic.” Gwineth let out an exasperated sigh and waved a paw at them. “Celestia is not going to actually hurt anyone. The worst that can happen is them getting arrested and then freed once The Harpy… I mean, The Lion takes over!”

She grinned happily with a sideways glance to her thugs while they nodded and voiced their enthusiastic agreement. Then Gwineth winked at Colonel Gaspar. “See? It will be alright!”

Guylan resigned himself to yet another sigh. Although some of them may die, that was a sacrifice she was willing to make. Fine. Dumb griffons were the problem with Griffonia. “Fine. I’ll go back and prepare things for your arrival. Make sure your guys make enough of a mess because I don’t want to be there when Celestia returns. With your permission Colonel.”

The older and wizened Gaspar nodded at Guylan. “Be careful… Whatever happens to a griffon when they die, I don’t mean to find out today.”

***

Celestia woke up. Her back pressed against the cool wet cloud and the pegasus weather team crowded around her against the starry sky. The team leader frantically shook her until she opened her eyes. “Goodness! You’re awake! You scared me, Princess! Please tell me you’re not hurt!”

The gray-green pony’s muzzle scrounged, and the mare spoke sheepishly. “Uh… Sorry for that.”

The Princess smiled at her concerned little pony while sitting on the cloud. Images of terrible thunderstorms, bloody fields and the dreadful visage of the black and white feathers occupied the back of her mind. But they didn’t need to know about any of that and Celestia kept it all behind her smile. “There was something lurking inside the cloud, but it is gone now. You can deal with the storm yourselves.”

The ponies took nervous steps back and exchanged concerned stares, but she spoke again. “It is safe now.”

A quick spell wiped most of the dampness from her body before Celestia shook her forehooves, one at a time. “Once you are done, go straight home. Close your doors and don’t leave until things calm down. Do not leave unless you desperately need something. If you do, take care not to draw attention to yourselves. If you find any ponies along the way, or if they live with you, tell them to do the same.”

Four blank faces stared back. “Take no longer than necessary, and in the coming days pay attention to the news. If the Royal House asks you to leave Griffonia, do so immediately. Make sure your families and those of your acquaintances are prepared. Be ready to travel and take only what is necessary.”

Her stare lowered a bit. “If you know griffons who are friends with ponies, warn them too. Discreetly talk to any hippogriffs you know. They are in danger. Maybe even more so than ponies. There may be trying times fast approaching, but Friendship will weather through them.”

“Yes, Princess…” The team leader nodded. A confused frown took over her face, but her voice remained resolute. “We’ll do as you say.”

“What is happening?” The male too had a worried frown and pleaded like a little colt, stepping forward.

“There is a new threat…” Celestia hardened her eyes as dulled pain, reminiscent of talons slowly tearing at her skin glowed behind her thoughts. “And it is a dangerous one, but it is my concern. Do not take my recommendations lightly and all will be well.”

Done with words, she hopped and took flight. Could it have been a nightmare using her fear of The Harpy to attack her? What Celestia saw in the cloud was no nightmare or nightmare magic. And if her dream served a purpose, it made her recall that she had returned before. Many times, indeed. Celestia just didn’t remember. Suddenly Grover’s fears of the Mother of the Storms during the war seemed much less a paroxysmal memory from primordial times.

How stupid had she been? Her head throbbed, and Celestia couldn’t make up her mind if it came from her anxiety or the bizarre magic which surrounded her dream. In fact, her thoughts seemed sluggish and clouded. Hopefully, it shouldn’t be permanent damage from the magic in the storm.

More important things occupied her mind. Such as the suspicious circumstances of Luna and her nightmare theory more than the theory itself. Why did Luna become so convinced it was a Nightmare? Celestia’s eyes hardened with a frown as she distanced herself from the weatherponies. Luna had said it was a nightmare and then all communication ceased.

Celestia immediately rebuked such thoughts, though. Luna would never betray her. Would she? An angry hum accompanied her frown. The Harpy’s magic was ancient, and her understanding of creatures and magic was dangerous. The Harpy could have come up with a way to fool Luna. It was much more likely than Luna betraying her older sister again.

‘Again’ being the key word, but Celestia decided to withhold judgment. It was still curious, though. Celestia had never thought about it… She didn’t know so many cycles had passed, but hadn’t Luna assumed the mantle of Nightmare Moon every single cycle? Although such was more likely a consequence of her position within the minds of ponies and their instinctual fear of the night before modern times. It was still a curious probability-defying tendency.

Once the storm had been dealt with, Celestia would try to communicate with Luna again and her sister would help deal with the threat. Celestia frowned again… Despite all her thoughts of the possibility of betrayal, Luna might be in danger. Chocolate Velvet was in danger. Hopefully, his encounter with the northerner hen wielded interesting results. Although not many creatures or institutions would accept his magical perceptions and her dream as evidence Gilad had associated himself with a dangerous creature. She needed what evidence Miss Mallet could procure.

One thing piqued at her curiosity, though. It seemed ponies failing to forget their creators caused a cascade effect resulting in Celestia retaining much of her memories from the previous cycle. Ironically, during the previous cycles she had forgotten everything because things had worked out. Did she, at the beginning of the present cycle, set things differently so they would arrive in the precise moment they were? So, she could remember and break The Harpy’s advantage?

She cocked an eyebrow while she flew. Maybe not. It allowed Catbird Supreme to return much earlier than in the previous cycle. Or had Hairball simply remained hidden until she felt safe to act? Either way, just thinking of her and her stupid crown of black feathers made Celestia’s head pulsate.

Again, how stupid had she been? The Harpy was there! Celestia knew Lady Gwendolen lived in Griffindell. The Harpy hid right under her nose all that time. She had never actually met Gwendolen face to face, though… Curse it all, Chrysalis was right. Celestia had been too lenient and her observance of the pact with Empress Geneviere gave The Harpy a safe harbor.

Curse it! Curse it! Sun scorch it all!

More important than that, Celestia had changed quite a lot. Her return as Sunny Days allowed her to prevent the Black Sun from triggering after Discord’s interference and imprisoned her soul in the realm of the mortals. She didn’t remember how she came to be in the previous cycle, but she would not have been able to deal with the situation. It seemed intentional.

Because, if the aborted Black Sun allowed herself, Luna and the others to manifest upon the world in their present form, it also allowed The Harpy. Maybe The Harpy believed the moment she had been waiting for finally arrived. Maybe that was her plan with The Lion and Grigory.

Her presence rendered everything pointless, the cursed Hairball. Celestia might have to trigger the Black Sun just to get rid of her influence.

Her frown deepened and Celestia grimaced. That was bad. If only the Murder Kitty hadn’t been hiding somewhere all along… Likely since the time Discord almost summoned the Black Sun. Anyway, she would be incredibly dangerous. Not a threat to be faced head-on. Especially since she had so long to prepare.

It raised an interesting question, though: what allowed The Harpy to return in the previous cycles? Discord’s intervention, almost summoning the Black Sun, had been exclusive to the present cycle. Maybe griffons are simply stuck with her, seething at them from the back of their minds. Celestia may not ever know the answer, but it won’t matter once she’s done fleecing The Harpy. Burying her name for all eternity along with all those traitorous catbirds should do it. Maybe even taking precautions to ensure she will never return in another cycle. Ever.

But saving the present cycle would be the best possible outcome. She didn’t want to start all over, potentially losing all she had become. She didn’t want to sacrifice what the others had become.

Celestia allowed herself a small self-righteous grin. Never one for self-pity, she acknowledged again the fact her previous self could never have faced The Harpy. Maybe not even the Unicorn Kings. Ah… The power of perspective. The instrumentality of insight, and what an insight that dream had provided.

Her frown turned into a grimace, her soft voice to burning anger. “She hurt Twilight. She hurt Luna and Cadance too…”

They were all vulnerable again. Moreover, Celestia wondered how many griffons had countered her efforts for the sake of an evil goddess during the past nights. What must Miss Mallet have found in the Blackfeathers’ archives? Maybe a definitive, legally binding evidence? What of Golden Rule? What of Discord? They could be in danger in Griffindell, but Celestia had come to trust the old Justiciar for her resourcefulness. Discord, Celestia knew he could take care of himself even better.

Assuming he didn’t betray her, but Celestia didn’t want to entertain the possibility.

Galloping under the stars and above the angry cloud, flapping her mighty wings, she giggled. Then her giggles turned to laughter. Her laughter ringed above the storm as she tossed her head. If the storm was supposed to make griffons remember The Harpy… It was The Harpy’s magic which helped Celestia. The Princess kept on laughing and laughing. The whole thing only happened because Cadance found that dumb letter, which in turn might also have been the result of Gwendolen’s machinations.

‘Shatterhoof Valley’. The name floated around her thoughts. Gilad was right when he faced her in the Hall of Friendship, years ago… She must be what her subjects needed her to be. She had some bloody business to take care of in the following days. Maybe some cleansing to do. It was a good thing she had learned so much from her old friends, the Unicorn Kings.

Her laughter turned to shrieking guffaws and anyone next to her might worry for her sanity.

“Ow…” Her guffawing ceased when she hovered in the air and took a hoof to her temple.

“Enough of that.” Celestia told herself.

Celestia’s magic tore open a hole in the cloud, and she made her way through. The rain didn’t bother her so much anymore and didn’t weigh down on her wings. The dark griffon city beneath her has lost a vast portion of its public lighting, but the lightning wasn’t as frequent anymore. It was just a normal storm, smelling of petrichor. The wind didn’t toss her around anymore, like it respected her again.

She found the mana station. Bright sparks showered out as it bellowed a pink smoke against the uncertain light of the failing mana batteries. A nearby building had caught fire and she could hear gunfire. Not only from there, but all over the region. They did more than sabotaging the mana station. It clearly was an attempt to distract her. Unfortunately for them, Celestia had seen all the tricks the wicked had under their horns. And griffons were nowhere as devious as the Unicorn Kings.

And the Unicorn Kings had been nowhere as devious as she had been.

Looking to the other side, Celestia found the ominous building where the Blackfeathers had made their headquarters. Chocolate was there, and with a few Royal Guards, but also many Griffonian Standing Army Soldiers under the influence of that murderous catbird with a superiority complex.

She then found the Local Militia Headquarters. Something had gone wrong, and Lord Protector Gilmara could be in danger, as well as her subordinates. Between them, Chocolate had the highest chances of protecting himself, so she should see what happened with the law enforcement griffons first. Furthermore, Griffonstone’s Local Militia should be able to deal with the problem at the mana battery station and would allow Celestia to help Chocolate Velvet. Especially because the northerner hen would be at the Blackfeather building, not the mana station.

The Mare twirled in the air and flapped her wings, propelling herself to the local militia headquarters building. Compared to Canterlot, the layout of the city was barely known to her, but Celestia supposed she wouldn’t get herself lost. Things could only improve with the ponies about to clear away the storm.

***

A gray-blue pegasus with a white mane next to a red and brown earth pony guarded a door in a corridor and wore the Royal Guard’s gold. The heavier version of their armor, with adequate protection. Both stood, attentively scanning the corridor on both sides time and again. Green carpet over the clear hardwood floor and tacky crimson with golden details wallpaper made the empty corridor. On one side the corridor ended on a window with the storm outside. The other ended the same way, with the stairwell midway to the end. Fancy frosted glass light fixtures on the ceiling had failed completely and they would be in the dark if not for several gas lamps on the floor near the wall.

A distinct clang of metal disrupted their casual scanning of the corridor. One stared at the other when the clang sounded again, seemingly closer. It sounded again, and again, definitely coming from the stairwell. Neither drew their weapons, though. Shields stayed on their backs and swords on their sides. They kept staring down the corridor as the clanging became louder.

Finally, the only brown alicorn in existence they knew to be the Prince-Consort, and their superior, came out of the stairwell. Rump-first and dragging a curtain wrapped around something that kept clanging against bronze finish on the edge of the steps.

“Do you need any assistance, your highness?” The pegasus mare showed a puzzled frown, but the alicorn mumbled something that sounded like a ‘no, it’s okay’.

Wearing his full golden Royal Guard armor with a white cape to indicate his rank, Chocolate also carried the standard-issue sword and shield. The prince also carried two pairs of pistols instead of one with additional powder and bullets. It all gave a particularly well-equipped and competent visage. But dragging a piece of cloth around kept him from the professional look which was expected of him.

Coming closer to them, Chocolate finally let the object inside the cloth rest with a thud and massaged his jaw. “Well, the manure is about to hit the fan.”

“More?” The pegasus asked sarcastically and the earth pony just stared dumbly at their superior.

“Princess Celestia left to investigate the mess the griffons are doing to their city and there is good reason to believe they’ll attack us while she is away. They blew up a nearby mana distribution station and some GSA guy tried to make us believe they needed Celestia to investigate. The thing is that Celestia knows it is a gambit. She’s also bound to examine the storm, so we’re on our own.”

“Oh, feathers…” The mare winced.

“Is this for real? Sir?” The earth pony whined and fidgeted his hooves. “Aren’t the griffons happy with an assassination attempt on the chancellor? Now they want to strike at the Royal House?!”

“There’s more going on than what is readily apparent, private.” Chocolate kept the professional attitude, despite the sword bundled in a curtain next to him.

“Oh no! He didn’t say anything silly, like ‘there more than meets the eyes’ This is serious!” The mare gasped and the earth pony nodded grimly.

“Anyway,” the prince rolled his eyes. “Report to Sergeant Crucible. He will better organize our efforts to defend the building and strike back at them. And keep things hush-hush. The griffons are not to be trusted.”

The mare frowned at him and gestured with her hoof. “This place is full of griffons, sir.”

“Precisely.” Chocolate pretended not to catch her sarcasm. “Haul flank to the top offices and meet Crucible Wings. Again, try to not draw attention. We want the catbirds to think we’re oblivious.”

“Yes sir.” Both saluted with a wing or a hoof as he waved with a wing.

He stood by the door, watching them rush to the stairs and up. Once they were away, Chocolate tested the knob on the door, and opened it. Biting at the curtain again, his highness dragged the stupid sword inside with him before closing and locking the door with help from his telekinetic magic.

Chocolate didn’t know what he expected, but the library was a library. Reading desks occupied the central area by the outer wall, surrounded by book stands which occupied most of the space. Large desks of dark varnished wood, sturdy furniture, with closed fronts for stability. Plenty of office materials too, and thick, dark wood for the shelves too. If anything, The Blackfeathers weren’t stingy about money.

Several rooms had had their walls downed in exchange for the open space, while pillars were left for structural integrity. More windows lined the wall between the rows of bookstands. Just as if some stupid bird with a twisted sense of humor wanted to make the room as easy to invade as possible. It was almost disappointing that the intelligence service headquarters didn’t have a super-secure strongroom, but Chocolate supposed it would make his job too easy.

Chocolate grabbed the curtain wrapped around the sword again and dragged it across the hardwood floor through the first book stands with a noticeable scratching noise. Reaching the open area with the desks and reading tables, sat the Justiciar. Miss Mallet, wore her characteristic red robe with the hood down and sat on a comfortable pillow by the desk. Her cyan pelt seemed reasonably kept, but her silver mane looked like a rat’s nest. Funny thing, the way pony manes reacted to stress.

The desk in front of her, and the ones next to it, had been buried under piles of parchment and books to the point the candles screamed fire hazard. Oblivious to the noise he and the sword caused in the library, the small unicorn mare feverishly scanned page after page of a non-assuming black leatherbound book.

“I hope you found something important and useful.” He let go of the curtain again. “Because the griffons are up to no good.”

“I did!” Mallet’s frantic gaze raised in a jerk from the book. “I mean, I almost did! I found several notes on the northerners. The Blackfeather division, in the last months, became obsessed with the northerner griffons worshiping the Mother of Storms. I found indisputable proof they launched an espionage mission called Operation Blackfeather. Without approval from the Chancellor’s Office, the GSA command, or even a shred of contact with the Royal House! Completely illegitimate! I don’t even know where they raised the funds for it!”

Chocolate stared at her, blinking eagerly and she went on, not an ounce less nervous than before. “They indeed hired Mister Flying Snake, as he said. For an operation worth millions of Bits, but he never reported back to them. He just showed up on Ponyville and went on to help Princess Celestia hunt the escaping Princesses.”

“Is that all?” Chocolate’s ears pulled back. “Did you get nothing concrete on The Lion being naughty, or the northerners and this Harpy of theirs?”

“Not entirely.” The unicorn tapped a pile of books with her hoof. “I did find they have a changeling infiltrator hiding in Beachhome! He told them Flying Snake was forced to defect because the northerners captured his daughter. Gilberta. It was a first hoof account! He was there and can serve as witness!”

“What is a changeling doing in a griffon-hippogriff town?!” Chocolate sat on the floor with a puzzled glare. “What was he doing in the North to begin with?!”

“He never told them. All I know is he didn’t want to be sent back to the Swarm.” The unicorn floated a large book written in… Griffonage, for it was the perfect word to describe the origin and calligraphy. Chocolate had no idea how Miss Mallet could decipher that, but she did. “It was before King Thorax took over the Swarm and he exchanged what he learned there with the Blackfeather for being allowed to live in Griffonia.”

“Well, what did he tell them?!” The alicorn urged with a wince and anxious wing gestures.

“It’s not here! I suppose their officers know, but the written records remained on Beachhome.” Mallet whined and let her ears sag.Then she hoofed at the book, perked ears at it. “However, this book says there is a record of where he is, somewhere in here!”

“We will never find a lone changeling hiding anywhere within useful time!” Chocolate grabbed one of the books in his telekinetic magic. But as he opened it to help her, everything was written with the griffon glyphs.

“They’re all written in Griffonese.” Mallet showed him her book again. “It’s like they were more afraid of us finding out than the northerners.”

“They probably expected Celestia to deal with the northerners for them.” Chocolate closed the book and frowned, returning it to the pile. “They didn’t want to dirty their own image with the things they did, like that mess with the derailed train.”

They fell into silence, with only the noises of the rain against the windows and fluttering of pages while Miss Mallet poured into book after book, looking for the Blackfeather records. Several minutes of relative quiet in the almost dead building passed before the mare perked her ears and declared triumphantly, she had found something.

“Oh! I found it!” Mallet opened a wide smile, staring at the open book.

“Where is he? Name? Address?” Chocolate came closer to her, looking over her shoulder.

“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “I found which book they keep the records about him in.”

Chocolate touched his knotting frown with a hoof. “Please hurry, Miss Mallet.”

“Sorry! Sorry!” She quickly let go of the book and grabbed another. It looked like a ledger to the alicorn. Or an address booklet. Small, bound with black leather and not a single ornament or letter on the cover. Just black and with a strip of similarly black leather wrapped around a small metallic button to keep it closed.

Chocolate Velvet’s patience started to deplete as the pony slowly unwound the leather strip. An undefinable bad feeling took over him. Something bad was sure to happen if they didn’t hurry.

Were the alicorn not bound by duty, and his love for the Princesses, he would have considered leaving the unicorn to fend for herself.

His ears moved, homing in on distant, echoing cannons. Surely they were cannons because of the distinctive sound they made. Black powder and ringing bronze. Then a compound shrill whistle filled the air and Chocolate acted on instinct instilled by the same training. He jumped over the little mare and covered her with his body and his wings. An instant later, before she understood and still yelped in surprise, the building shook like an earthquake. The glass windows shattered, and bookstands toppled like dominos.

A second passed and the building still rattled under blasts in a symphony with the repetitive whistling, drowning the unicorn’s panicked cries. Miss Mallet cowered beneath him, covering her head with her hooves. “What is that?!”

A chandelier snapped from its fixture in the ceiling and smashed itself to bits of bronze and crystals against his armor.

“It began.” Chocolate let her stand as musket fire rang outside and the wind dragged the rain inside. The gust blew off the candles and darkness took over the room. What little light entered from the windows barely allowed them to see the walls.

The sounds of muskets and repeating firearms came from the broken windows, but also from the door leading to the corridor. For a brief instant, Chocolate hoped the ponies in the Royal Guard were alright. If they managed to regroup and Crucible redistributed them, they should be fine, defending the other floors and spreading the griffons around.

More artillery fire blasted against the tower, and it shook again. Pieces of white gypsum from the ceiling collapsed to the hardwood floor, exposing the wooden structure. Chocolate hoped the tower itself would hold better than the gypsum as it kept breaking and some pieces hung from the ceiling. Thankfully, the thing seemed to be made of reinforced cement, judging by the outer wall.

“The northerners and their supporters want to destroy all the information the Blackfeather has on them. Find the changeling’s name, and where he’s hiding. Anything you can find! Now!” He yelled at the unicorn.

Mallet’s eyes bulged as she stood. “Oh… Oh! Yes. Right now!”

As the pony minded the book, Chocolate drew one of his white and gold pistols to float next to him. The water pooled on the hardwood floor and the alicorn quickly kicked the curtain-wrapped sword under one of the desks.

Just in time too, because the enchantments on Chocolate’s armor warned him of imminent danger. His training screamed from the back of his mind for him to find shelter, but instead he shoved Miss Mallet under one of the desks. His magic dragged another desk in front of her, sealing Mallet underneath with the book.

“Find the changeling. And don’t make a sound.”

The door almost buckled and folded in half into the library with a crunchy impact while Chocolate changed his position not to be in front of it. Another hit and the door exploded in two pieces barely hanging from the hinges. Plan? None. Or at least none that involved more than waiting for the other Royal Guards or Celestia to show up before they got the best of him. Chocolate had entered that room knowing he would be getting the brunt of the impact. His goal was keeping the northerner catbird from getting the sword and protecting Miss Mallet for long enough.

A griffon rushed inside with a pistol on his right paw, but didn’t have time to look around the room as Chocolate shot him with his pistol. Miss Mallet squealed again under the desk and Chocolate let go of the pistol. “Find it, Miss Mallet!”

A pair of griffons came inside next, and one of them shot him with a musket, but his armor and its magic protected him. The other lunged at him with a bayonet at the tip of his musket. Chocolate stood on his hindlegs and kicked the blade with an armored leg, then kicked the griffon’s face with practiced ease. His opponent went down hard.

The remaining griffon hid behind the wall and yelled. “He’s here! Shoot him!”

The flash from lighting barely allowed him to see details other than the distinctive shapes of griffons hovering in the air and holding firearms outside the windows. There being little more to be done to help Miss Mallet, he threw himself at the floor and under the nearest window. Slipping on the floor between scattered office supplies barely before they opened fire. The racket of automatic weapons drowned the sounds of the rain. Bullets thumped at the hardwood floor and sent splinters everywhere. They clacked at the concrete wall behind him, and shrapnel pinged his armor’s magical defenses.

A cylindrical object flew into the room and bounced off the dilapidated floor. Hissing like an angry wasp nest.

“Are you serious?!” His magic reached too late, and his eyes filled with a harsh and bright white. The air filled with the smell of burning matches and the bang made his ears ring. Looking again, flames clung to the wood of the desks, the bookcases, and the ceiling. Even more of the gypsum fell and the wood caught fire. The flames cast an eerie light at the library. All those books and papers would burn like… Whose idea was it to fight in a library again? As if that place needed to be more dangerous.

A female voice screeched outside. She yelled furiously in the whistly northern griffonian language soon after a griffon tumbled into the library with a yelp. His eyes opened wide upon seeing Chocolate hiding against the wall under the window. With his feet skipping on the wet floor he failed to grab his weapon or stand. Chocolate’s telekinetically held pistol shot him through his forehead.

The alicorn didn’t know if the others saw it, nor did he care. He scrambled over the dead griffon while grabbing his weapon and jumped behind one of the turned desks. Hopefully, the thickness of the wood and his armor would be able to withstand the hail of bullets they immediately unleashed.

All the while, even as the water from the rain pooled on the floor, the fire spread among the bookcases and claimed the ceiling. The air was becoming oppressively hot, and he coughed breathlessly. At least none of those jerks threw another grenade.

After the shooting stopped, more shots kept ringing in the distance, but someone walked on the pooled water with wet, splashy steps.

“Pony…” The female sang the word with a generous dose of maleficence and northerner accent. “Where is my dancing sword?”

Truth be told, it almost disappointed him that she couldn’t feel it, or something. He almost even expected her to telekinetically pull it to her. The magic her body gave shone like a beacon to him. He knew exactly where she stood. Raising from the floor with a jump, he turned holding the firearm he had gotten from the griffon. Holding it in his magic, he trained it at her and pulled the trigger.

The repetitive drumming sound of the weapon hurt his ears and the flickering flashes contended with the flames. The thing vibrated like a wild beast, but he held it and unloaded the northerner submachine gun at the hen.

The gun clicked one last time and the last casing tinkled to the ground. The steely-blue griffoness hid behind her wing, showing only her blue eyes, filled with delight, and the edges of her beak, pulling with a grin. The blue feathers crackled with magical energy like little bolts of lightning jumping between the clouds. None of the fifteen or so bullets hit her. They glanced off the feathers on the wing she shielded herself with. What the actual fudge? A few flattened bullets rolled on the floor. Part of him refused to believe.

Behind the griffoness, past the broken windows, the hovering griffons also stared, beaks hanging in awe.

His pony brain refused to utter the words he should have. “What the feather? Even the damn griffons get better magic than me?”

The hen laughed and stood on her hindlegs. Wings flaring grandiosely, her muscles tightened with the effort. Under the flickering light of the fire, shining with magic that remained in between her feathers, she looked formidable and dangerous. Her talons shone with the same magic; she held lightning in her paw. Before Chocolate could think and hide behind his shield, it unleashed from her talons like the hen was a bucking Sith Lord from the movies back in his original world.

Without his shield, the bolt pierced past his armor’s magical defenses and melted a hole through the chest plate. The impact sent him flying against the inner wall and the magical energy lit every nerve of his body on fire. His muscles locked and Chocolate couldn’t even scream, collapsing to the floor against the wall.

The hen hopped onto the turned desk, and from it pounced at Chocolate, pushing her weight against the pierced and smoking breastplate of his armor. He barely noticed anything before the pain shot through him again and he screamed.

“Where is my dancing sword, you skreyja meinfretr?” She pulled at his mane, and even if Chocolate wanted to answer, all he managed was an uncoordinated groan while trying to move with no success. The smell of burned flesh concerned him as much as the lack of control over his muscles and most of his mental faculties. All he knew was that the griffoness could not be allowed to find Miss Mallet. The sword be damned.

With a desperate surge of energy, his leg kicked her, as best and as hard as he could command it to. His hoof struck her stomach and threw her a couple of hooves in the air. A bird-like squeak let him know he had hurt her.

The heat and smoke in the air reminded Chocolate the room was on fire. He stood, almost tumbling to the floor, but pain burned in his chest. His failing magic barely resisted the bullets under the drumming sound of the northerners’ weapons, and he fell on his side.

One of the griffons hovering outside hurried to Gwineth’s side while his friend showered bullets in Chocolate’s direction. The alicorn didn’t know how many pierced his armor and its magical defenses. He winced, more out of anger than pain and his horn became lit with amber light. His magic reached for the griffon’s weapon and pulled with all his fury. It ripped the weapon from the griffon’s paws and the strap pulled him against the wall outside. Chocolate heard a cry and a sickening crunch.

The griffoness yelled something at the griffon trying to help her and shoved him away a hoof into the air before she lowered herself to the floor. Her wings opened and her face showed a murderous scowl. Out of reflex, Chocolate drew one of his pistols and pulled the trigger on her, but the water had rendered the powder useless.

When the griffoness screeched and lunged at him, he raised a simple wall shield. It proved inefficient when crackling talons tore at the invisible wall, making it visible before an explosion of lightning energy in all directions. Blinded, Chocolate cried and took a cautionary step back, still feeling the heat from the lightning spell her talons weaved less than a hoof from his face.

He cried when something hit him against the back of his head and the ensuing dizziness stole his balance again. Trying to stand on his hindlegs to distance himself from the griffoness, he crashed to the floor on his back. Gwineth didn’t let up and screeched like a mad feline, throwing from her path a griffon holding a musket as a club, and leapt at Chocolate. She flailed her talons and barely missed him again.

Suddenly back in control of his mental faculties, the alicorn retrieved his shield from his back and hid behind it from her mad clawing. But rather than risk her lightning magic interfering with his telekinetic grasp, he held it with his leg and used it to bash at her with the shield.

Gwineth cried a sharp yelp and backed off him to hold her beak, sitting on the wet floor and proffering a series of insult-sounding foreign words. It gave Chocolate a moment to stand back on his four legs, but before he could do anything, another griffon shot a salvo from his submachine gun. The air huffed out of his lungs as bullets clinked at his magical armor. Worryingly, the pain felt numb. Chocolate brought his shield to bear, and it caught most of the hail with a deafening noise, but his chest stung. It forced the alicorn to take a step back, his shield suddenly too heavy. Summoning all his willpower, the brown alicorn drew his sword from his back, but his vision suddenly blurred. Maybe the carbon dioxide got to him. It didn’t explain the coppery taste in his mouth, though.

Beyond a pair of burning desks his blurred vision could make out the griffon, sitting on his haunch, hastily replacing the magazine from his weapon. Thoughts eluded him, but Chocolate figured he ought to do something about it. Not entirely sure how, he cast a spell. Five comets of amber and gold shot from his horn to explode at the griffon and throw him back at a desk behind him. The weapon and the magazine flew in different directions, and the griffon grunted when he hit the desk and tumbled behind it.

A bolt of energy shot across Chocolate’s back when Miss Mallet cried from her hiding place. The griffon, mostly unharmed, turned and pulled at the desk. Chocolate drew his third pistol, but holding two objects at the same time sent his head spinning. He dropped the sword without thinking and aimed at the griffon. Pulling the trigger only produced a puff of wet powder. He should have remembered the weapon would fail.

“The Justiciar, Miss Gwineth!” The griffon pulled her silver mane from under the desk, disregarding her shrieks like she was a prized pig.

“Let go of her, stupid catbird!” Chocolate’s breath failed and his voice came out a wheeze. He barely managed to lift his sword from the floor when a heavy weight clung to his back with a screeching yowl.

He struggled but maintained his balance as Gwineth’s talons buzzed and filled the air with the smell of ozone. His neck burned and his flesh sizzled. He screamed and saw searing drops of molten metal hiss at the pooled water. He could do nothing while the griffoness swung around his neck and her shifting weight toppled him on his side.

Chocolate failed to react, too weak to do anything as the griffoness stood above him. She smiled and held his own sword against his chest.

He heard her giggling but making out her shape against the glare of the flames taking over the ceiling and the walls proved impossible. When the sword came down on his chest if found a crack her lightning spell had burned on the metal and the magical wards. It snapped audibly and it didn’t hurt as much as he had imagined. He didn’t react other than letting his chin hang slightly. Miss Mallet’s screech seemed more important than the pain.

Standing on her hindlegs, the griffoness put a hindpaw on his chest and pulled her sword free with a clear ring to then let it clang to the floor. Miss Mallet cried his name, but everything seemed too far away. The griffoness staring down at him and turning away. The mare’s screams, and the flames around them. All so distant.

At some point he heard an explosion and screaming. Muskets firing and more clashing metal. Still, all was an infinity away from him, and eventually, all he could hear was the rush of a river pulling him away.

Comments

[Jinnchin]

Well shit...

In any other story I'd be overjoyed to see an alicorn OC who regularly bangs the princesses bite the dust. But here I'm genuinely hoping Celestia turns Gwineth into a throw rug.

At the very least I think Gwineth might actually be dumb enough to leave Mallet alone after her "victory" here. Funny, at the start of the story I was convinced Lord Gilad was going to be all the things our resident Swordmaiden murder machine turned out to be!

[Metemponychosis]

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The secret with Chocolate Velvet is that he was genuinely nice and willing to give his best, and not always succeeding.