Time to Shine

by Easysnuggler

18. Giselle

“Celestia insisted and Luna agreed that this world we live in Equis was not ‘the real world’. That this world was ‘made up’ and was like the real one in many ways but after the alicorns had escaped from a pocket reality where they and an ancestor of the spirit of Chaos whom they termed “the flaw” had been trapped to this new one, they brought the ‘automata’ of their old reality with them. This they said is what allowed magic to function in Equestria, what they termed the head of the chain of creation. Discord they claimed was but one of many fragments of a less pleasant Discord from an ancient and parallel past.”

—Pena “On the Origins of Ponies*_{(*and Others)} and Magic”

18. Giselle

The line to the great Hall of Heroes, Griffonstone’s seat of governance, stretched for nearly a block. Giselle found herself there in the morning waiting like every other hen to speak to the King or his representatives.

She passed the time gossiping with the other hens. This was a lady’s day though, and like every griffon she found herself in a long line of young and old female griffons. Other than the guards and an occasional messenger there were no toms in evidence. The line proceeded smoothly, orderly, and efficiently so there by noon she found herself in the great Hall.

All the gossip in the lines had been about the strange changes that had miraculously taken place in the Griffin world. Suddenly griffins found they could stand on clouds, shape them, compress them, and push them around. They could even give them a hard kick to make them give brief rain showers and even lightning if compressed till they were black! They could hover now seemingly effortlessly. The markets were full of fish and game. The creatures of the natural world had not yet adjusted to the Griffin’s new hunting prowess. Twenty griffons had hunted a whale yesterday and were the wonder of the day, having hauled it THROUGH THE AIR back to the docks west of Griffonstone.

The endless winds were a gentle breeze. Flights of griffons were rotating counterclockwise through Griffonstone. The weather had never been this good in living memory.

Some said the alicorns had come again, returning from whatever ethereal spaces they had left for. There were stranger tales, an earth pony floating by aloft on balloons, lights in the sky like those of the far north, tiny bug ponies gliding by, and tales of a strange dream guardian - not a blue alicorn, but a tiny angry blue dragon that would smash nightmares and move on with hardly a word! Many swore these tales were true, and some had seen several of these things and all had seen some. She rather disbelieved a few. That floating earth pony and the friendly well-groomed sea serpent to her seemed just to be tall tales.

The oldest griffons, the greybeards of the Pinnacle of Wisdom, were full of words of caution, warning that it was somehow bad, that these wonderful things would bring untold tragedy and grief. The advanced school attached to the ancient griffon military academy had enormous prestige, but little influence. The younger griffons paid them no mind, wise though they might be. Ignoring the wisdom of the elders was a Griffonstone tradition.

The line broke into three and clerks stood at the head of each with a sign. One sign read marriages and licenses, another taxes and assistance, and the third read simply “other”. She joined the “other” line.

The equerry, clerk and by his sash and cross, a companion to the king talked earnestly and kindly with the matronly looking hen ahead of her. The hen in front of her smiled, thanked him and went back to the slightly longer marriage line.

“Name?”

“Giselle Grimfeathers”

“Occupation?”

“Nestmaker, and baker.”

“Marital status?”

“Engaged”

The handsome young green feathered clerk looked up. “Do you want an egg license?”

“Well yes, but that is not why I’m here.”

“I ask because they are giving them away. To whomever asks. Up to THREE. Right now, that line. You can come back to me in a minute. Now go on shoo!”

A few minutes later she found that yes, they HAD been giving them away. She had nearly fainted. She had expected to get the free customary one, and another after her first hatchling was flying as was traditional for those with good genes and jobs, but a third license was unheard of without serious bribes, buying one from the desperate or unlucky or a very long wait. She had tickets for four. The hen at the front of the line had taken one look at her and said, you have wide hips, I bet you have twins. Here… take another. And just like that had handed over four tickets. 1, 2, 3, 4. She counted them again and again. Now she was at the front of the other line again.

The young green clerk smiled up at her, his beak wrinkling at the edges. She could have chicks, FOUR chicks… if Gerrard ever came back. Just like that the tears returned, and she burst out crying, sobbing into the feathered chest of a noble stranger in the Hall of Heroes.