Ballad of Knights and Peasants

by FeldmarschallTwiggs

Chapter Two: Fall Fellowship

In a chilly, but bright day in September, Gunther travels to the market. On certain days of the week, he closes the shop for a day to purchase his basic necessities, and to at least see people once in a while. Walking down the road, the many shopping stands are completely occupied, with griffons bustling, interacting with each other, and being surprisingly friendly. The cool air brushed his face, and was always a lovely part of Gunther's day. "Good afternoon, brother! How goes your day today? Would you care for some lovely little trinkets to give to your wife, or decorations?" said a griffon store owner. His feathers were of a light yellow, with very friendly eyes. They were a bright, beautiful blue, like the sky. Gunther realized what he was doing. "Oh I am so sorry, my friend, I didn't mean to be rude. Yes, of course, that beautiful little green gem would go very nicely for an amulet! How much do you need?" "For you my fellow griff, I'll give you a discount, and only charge you, hm, 20 marks!" "I can afford that, here you go my friend. Have a lovely afternoon!" "You too! Good afternoon sister, how goes your day today?"

Everywhere around Gunther, large banners bearing the symbol of the Reformisten were scattered through out, emphasizing who was in control. The large emblem of a griffon skull, with an 'X' shape behind it, boldly stood out from the brightly colored shop stands, and joyous griffons. Gunther carried on, attempting to look for the earth pony food vendor who always had the sweetest of apples. Everywhere he looked, front and back, any tight corners large enough to contain a stand, even in places where the main market wasn't even located. Nothing. He tried, and tried, until it was almost evening, and most have gone to their homes, and the vendors were beginning to close. He hurried to the stand where he remembers the pony being from, and found a crumpled up piece of paper behind the stall, obviously with little care given to it. It said, "Am closing shop for while, apples keep getting steal, pleese take care of it, thanks - Red Marmalade" The handwriting was terrible, as is expected when using hooves to write. But that worried Gunther. He had always loved the apples she had grown, and had come to enjoy talking to her whenever he came to buy. Recently though, she had been looking less and less happy as the days go by. The griff knows how hard it is to be a pony here in the frontier, but the earth pony had always kept a smile. Then it just faded away. The letter says her apples keep getting stolen, but that can't just be it. With a little more thought though, he decided it was not worth looking into, maybe she had personal issues that were not of his concern. Either way, he was just another costumer to her. And to him, she was just an acquaintance, and maybe even a friend.

Walking slowly back to the shop, Gunter noticed a certain griff standing there, very patiently, but ominously as well. He seemed to be wearing mostly black and had a similarly colored cap on. Just then, when Gunther realized who that griff was, he introduced himself. "I am Scharführer Quill. I am a member of the Sturmgreife, and have noticed your example works behind the window, and they caught my eye. Do tell, who might you be?" Gunther was still quite shocked to be talking to a member of the Sturmgreife, no matter how low the rank, but he said with little fear in his voice, "I am Gunther Schneider. I am a tailor, and this is my shop." The Sturmgreife was visibly happy, although he did try to hide it. "I had a feeling. My dear friend, these works of art you have here have heavily peaked my interest, and I simply must ask, are you willing to make me a suit? While I proudly wear my S.G. suit, it's quite boring, and something with a little more *pop* would fit myself nicely." The nervousness in Gunther quickly turned into excitement, with, embarrassingly, his feathers flaring up. "My friend I'd be honored! I haven't had a costumer in weeks, but I've had so many plans thought up, and I didn't think I'd even keep the shop op-" The Sturmgreife quickly raised his talon, signifying that the ruffled grey-feathered griff could stop now. "My friend, I am sure you and I will get along very nicely. The money you will make will be sure to open an even bigger shop, and even hire some fine workers so you finally may relax." The promises of wealth beyond measure did not help with the feathers, in fact, they flared up so great, Quill looked visibly worried and started slowly reaching for his pistol as if Gunther was going to attack him. "No no no please, please, I am not going to attack you, I am just incredibly excited, that's all!" "Good, for a very split second I thought the tailor was about to murder me!" And then he laughed, and laughed until Gunther started to. For a solid minute, the two griffons laughed in front of an empty, and dark tailor shop, with the night slowly coming in. And while Quill was just about to stop, Gunther kept going, until he noticed he went on for a little too long. "Gunther, my friend," Quill said. "I will be seeing you tomorrow, yes? Same time unfortunately, since the ever so pretentious Sturmgreife high command are incredibly annoying on dress code, so my change in attire won't really help me." The griff had a little chuckle at that. "I shall be seeing you!" "To you as well my friend! Safe travels!" And so Gunther went inside, with a large smile on his face. And with his excitement, he immediately went to work and began planning the new plans for a proper, and fabulous Sturmgreife uniform to truly stand out. The night was long, and arduous, but he soldiered through it, and regained his passion that he had thought he had lost, long ago.

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For so long did Gunther toil, sketching up an overtly extravagant suit, that he would surely be unable to create in time, or even afford. The choice of fabric would've been of the finest touch, and the hardest punch to his purse. But none of that mattered, for when the adrenaline rush that is creative inspiration kicks in, you'd have to be a fool to stop. And so he kept on. Talons were aching, eyes were strained, mind was tired. None of that affected him one bit. He was shivering as well, for the light in his lamp had gone out, and never re-lit. It was only when he felt a dry thirst that he realized, "I FORGOT THE GROCERIES! DAMNIT ALL!" And in a fit of rage, he picked a chair and through it across the room. Luckily, nothing broke, just a slightly chipped chair and scratched floor, but Gunther was utterly shocked. "Oh by Boreas, that was a bit much." The griff just stood there. Contemplating what he's done. Thinking, ever so blankly. And then he fell knees flat and sobbed. He didn't know why. They were a mix of sadness, and happiness. It wasn't really clear what emotion was going through him at the time. His glasses were completely soaked, and he could barely see out of them. But he continued to weep. The feathers around his head weren't spared either, and soon, he just completely collapsed and sobbed like a madgriff. Gunther pictured the image of his current self in his head, and then cried harder. The cycle continued until he was completely dry. The sun was already beginning to rise when he stopped, and was utterly ashamed. In a hushed whisper, "Dear Boreas, grant me strength, and grant me happiness, amen." With a prayer said, he began preparing for another day.

Not even 5 minutes after flipping the sign in the front to 'Open', an earth pony entered, visibly distressed, and very hurriedly. "Good morning to you, sir," she said very quickly. "This is a bit, ehm, strange to ask but do you mind if I stay here for a bit? I'm so sorry, I have no money, but I can-" Gunther cut her off. "Please, you do not need to pay me. You may stay. Just, please do be careful of the fabric and mannequins." "Oh thank you, thank you, please if there's any thing you require of me, just ask!" The unusual earth pony exclaimed. "There is one thing, who in Boreas's name even are you? Pardon my rudeness." The earth pony didn't seem to mind. "Oh please sir, if some madgriff just came running to my shop and said 'Please let me stay inside your home', I would've beaten him over the head, hahaha. Ah but I do apologize sir. To be frank, I'm quite scared, call me a coward all you'd like." The griff was confused. "Of whom or what? Hellquill is the safest its ever been in years. Would you like me to call the police, I'm sure they can-" Gunther was stopped by the pony, who was now more scared then ever. "NO! Please, please sir, calling the police is not necessary. In fact, I'm more worried for what the police will do to me!" Gunther stood, now worried he had just let in a criminal. The pony began, "I can see you are obviously nervous of myself. Please, I mean you no harm. Ever since those damn Reformisten bastards got into power, being a pony in Hellquill became even worse than before. Since you're a griffon, you don't care, or are just completely blind to it. You aren't the ones being targeted." She stood there, hooves shaking somewhat. "Sir, a dear friend of mine just went missing. And I know she wouldn't just leave the country either. Something terrible happened to her, and I can't do anything about it." The nervous equine began to have some tears trickle down her face, but she kept a strong appearance. "I can tell you aren't like the others. You haven't called me any slurs or attempted to kill me, hehe." She nervously laughed. Gunther finally responded, "I... I do not know what to say. Well, I must say, you are a bit too trusting, at least you came into my shop first. Uhm, but this may seem a bit odd, was your friend named Red Marmalade, by any chance?" Her face lit up. "Yes! Yes, that is her name! By Boreas, did you know her?" "I'd like to think so. She sold me apples, and we talked during the purchasing. I sometimes made her little scarfs to warm herself up, since she didn't have much in clothing." "You're a good griffon. Oh! I'm so sorry, how rude of me, I haven't even bothered to ask! Please, what is your name?" Gunther hesitated. As friendly as this pony seemed, her story of a kidnapped pony scared him. Fake or not. He wanted no trouble. "My name is Hazel Wing," The pony began. "I'm from north of the capital." The griff was a bit confused. "Oh, my father was a griffon, so he thought it'd make sense to name a pony a griffon surname!" Gunther finally submitted. "My name is Gunther Schneider. I am a tailor, and this is my shop." The pony laughed. She seemed to like laughing. But it didn't bother Gunther. "Well hello Gunther Schneider, the tailor! I could've hardly believed this was your shop!" He felt a little embarrassed. "Ah, I apologize for my odd nature. The shop doesn't get much business nowadays." "Ah it's fine, you're a strange griff, but a very nice one. Say, since I did technically just barge into your home, how about I make you some dinner? My father taught me how to make the finest baked potato, and it's always been a treat to make it. Have you any potatoes here?" The griffon began to straighten himself out, "Ah yes, over there in the back, in the left you should see a pantry. I don't exactly hide the fact that this shop is my home." "Oh don't worry my friend, an honest griffon is the best griffon. Gods know there aren't that many!" And with that, Gunther now has an earth pony he's just met, cooking him baked potatoes. What a world.

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"How'd you enjoy the potatoes, Mr. Schneider? Too mushy? My father always told me that." Gunther hadn't the time to make himself a proper meal in a very long while, and usually just settled for an apple. "It's absolutely splendid, Hazel. You're father must've been a very interesting griffon, considering how you made this ever so bland potato into such a lovely mix of flavors." The caramel colored pony seemed glad. She was a very joyful creature, but still had a certain oddity about her. She seemed unusually nice. Gunther might've just been projecting his own pessimistic view on it all, but it still posed a legitimate question. What really happened?

"Tell me about yourself Mr. Schneider. You're line of work is certainly an interesting one, especially here in Hellquill." The question came as a surprise to Gunther, who's rarely asked about himself, let alone his line of work. "Well, it seemed to have grown on me as I've aged. I love the appearance of a glorious knight. Powerful, yet graceful. I especially loved looking at the pictures of Arcturian knights in the north. They give off an aura of a sacred order, dedicated to a truly pure and righteous cause. And so, I wanted to try and replicate it into my suits. It's a little silly why I chose the tailoring profession, and not blacksmithing. Truth be told, knights are not the most social of fellows, and there is already plenty of blacksmiths in the country with far superior designs and materials. But I love my profession. No matter how hard it is to sell!" Hazel was glad to know more about the griffon. She gave him a smile. "Well I figure I might as well tell you about myself now. I come from a mining family up north, near the border with Diamond Mountain. My father owned one of the more successful crystal mines, and so was able to support me in my little adventures. I wanted to get a degree in botany at the University of Hellquill, and I did! Though, it quickly became void, since no one nowadays wants a botanist. Especially a pony one." Gunther finally asked what was bothering him. "What's happening to the ponies in Hellquill?"

Suddenly, a knock came from the front door of the shop. Hazel heard it and went to answer. Until she saw who it was. As soon as she saw, she ran trembling to Gunther, with a heavy breath. "THERE'S A STURMGREIFE AT THE DOOR." The pony loudly whispered shakily. Gunther's eyes widened. "By Boreas, I forgot about Quill!" He thought. "What's the matter, why are you shaking?" Hazel looked as if she was going to pass out. She quickly ran to Gunther's bedroom, and locked the door behind her. Gunther, not a fool, he understood something was terribly wrong. But it was unwise to ignore a Sturmgreife. So he quickly went to open the door. "Greetings Gunther, my friend! I came as I said! I will say, you did take quite a while." Gunther responded rather quickly. He was worried, and knew something was wrong, but had no idea what it was. "I apologize, Scharführer Quill, I had to attend to other matters at that moment." "Please Gunther, call me Johanne. Only my troops call me 'Scharführer Quill'. You are my friend, and have no need to call me that." That softened Gunther up a bit. "Thank you, Johanne. Would you like to come in? I have some of the designs for your suit, and I wonder which one would suit you best." Johanne responded in a very polite manner. "I shall. I am very excited for what you have come up with."

Gunther led the Sturmgreife in, and cleared the way for him. The store was messier than it usually is, due to the arrival of Hazel, and the griff's general poor state of mind. Definitely not the finest first impression to an officer of the S.G. The chair Gunther threw was still chipped. The mannequins were facing the wrong directions. The windows haven't been cleaned since yesterday. The aroma of the baked potato was still looming. Gunther's mind was clogged with these observations. "So, tell me what we have here, Gunther?" The tailor answered, trying his best to clear his head. "Well, this design here uses a very fine silk, native to Nimbusia, and has a color palette that goes very nicely in the winter time. It doesn't have too much *pop*, as you would want, but I believe it to be a fine-" He was cut off. "Gunther, my friend, what I'm looking at looks fascinating, and I would love to wear it. Sadly though, it relies on a Nimbusian fabric. A pony, fabric. I myself could care less, but, like all things, my higherups despise all things fun, and will immediately court martial me, if they found out I was wearing a suit of Nimbusian silk." The tailor was disappointed, but he pressed on. For a few minutes, Gunther explained several designs to Johanne, and each one was considered, except for one particularly colorful piece. "Ah!" Johanne pointed. "This one, will do nicely." Gunther looked at it once more. "This one? I must admit, it's a bit, much? Velvet? With a fedora as well? I have to admit, I was pretty exhausted when thinking up this one and was actually going to throw it in the trash." The officer grew a great smile. "Gunther, my boy, this one is perfect. The fedora could maybe be switched out for a proper officer cap, to at least *somewhat* resemble an army suit. But everything else is perfect! The Sturmgreife ranks are so dull, and boring, with the same old black and red always being used. While I do like the ominous feeling it wreathes on folks, I think a friendlier color would suit me much better!" The tailor was bewildered, but imagining how it would look, he seemed to love the idea as well. "I am surprised Johanne, I never thought a griff like yourself would be so fabulous!" The now friendly figure in black chuckled. "Oh please, as good as the rewards are in this job, and how much I respect the people in it, I am not the most orthodox griffon in the frontier. Just imagine myself, rising up to the rank of field marshal, with such an outfit as this? Please, the troops would fight Maar himself for me!" Gunther never noticed Johanne's appearance until now. His feather's were in a shade similar to Gunther's, only slightly darker. His eyes a warm brown. And his figure was on the slimmer side. By no means was he a small griffon, far from it. His height was much taller than the likes of Gunther, but he isn't a hulking giant, like what a Sturmgreife is imagined to be. When given a closer look, Johanne Quill doesn't appear to be a very threatening griff. "Well Gunther, don't you need to measure me up now?" The tailor snapped out of it. "Oh, yes thank you for reminding me, I haven't done this in a while you see, so I do forget things." And for the rest of the time Johanne was there getting measured, the two exchanged more about each other. "To be fair Gunther, I only really joined the Sturmgreife for the career opportunities. After the success of Sturm Zigaretten, and the rise in popularity of the Reformisten, I thought, 'You know, this could be good for a griff such as myself, much potential'. It's like I'm investing in a business, except this business could possibly get me killed." Johanne never spoke much more of his personal life besides his role as a Sturmgreife commander. Stories of disobedient troops wasting away in bars, brothels, threats of violence against one another, and not-so-friendly competition. He said he would've spoke about his higher ups, but then said that the state had eavesdroppers everywhere, and that he liked his life. That cracked Johanne up, but Gunther didn't really know what to feel about it. And after about two hours of measuring and chatting, Johanne took off. "Goodbye Gunther, I will be seeing you in, mmm, about two days? I have had some new assignments given to me, so I might show up a little later. Think of me as a looming entity, always there, and never there! Auf wiedersehen!" Gunther looked on his friend with a bit of a sad look. "I'll be seeing you Johanne, please don't spy on me, hehe!"

After that encounter, Gunther rushed back to the room to find Hazel in the corner, shaking. "Hazel, Hazel, what's wrong?" The earth pony's anger seemed to seep through the thick, brown fur. "WHY WAS THERE A FUCKING STURMGREIFE HERE? AND WHY DID YOU SPEAK TO HIM THAT DAMNED LONG?" The tailor, was shocked. But very quickly, he was mad. "Who, in gods name are you, to be yelling at me, scolding me for who I choose to talk to, IN MY OWN DAMN HOUSE? I have taken the risk of even giving you some damned shelter, when no one else would, and this is how I am treated?! Like this?" The pony tensed up. Gunther's breath became harder, and he too started to tense up. His chest began to hurt, sting even. Breathing became hard, his muscles were slowly starting to give out. And then, he collapsed.