The Crystal, the Griffons, and the Question

by TheApostate

Knock on the Invisible Gate

As they came closer to the capital, the couple was little surprised by the precarity of the display. It was… exactly as they sought it might look like. Griffonstone did not impress them much beyond that.

The ruins of the old palace and library stick prominently from the patchwork of debilitated houses peering in the distance. Some were made of simple stones taken from the mountainside, stuck to each other by cheap cement. Others lived in the vestiges of the great city that was – perhaps passed down from generation to generation or stolen in a feud. And others still, perhaps the most fortunate of the poor, had houses built of carved stones with the seeming addition of a small garden, which was solely used for food farming. A Griffon diet is, unlike most, not restrained to only vegetables and fruits but could diversify to more… common sources of nutrition. Ones they, the Ponies, could not consume.

In the aftermath of the old dynasty’s fall, an ad hoc formation of noble and prominent gents was established until – as they stated – a new, worthy successor would be chosen or a better alternative would be proposed. Of course, alternatives had flooded the Regency Council in its first years; from an eternal election between nobles to head the species like olden times, or, the more outlandish outlook, of letting the people decide their ruler, a public thing yet unseen. Either proposition was turned down. And when a third proposal to join Equestria had been put forward, not only was it vehemently turned down, the group of griff was declared as “perpetual exiles”.

‘Clearly,’ began Armor, ‘we are not here in Twilight’s stead.’

‘You seem more awake today. That is rare.’

‘And you, rancid candy, are more dislikeable than a cup of cold coffee.’

‘It would have not been the case if you had drunk it!’

‘Not my fault if you are- were,’ he leaned closer, ‘a pleasant mare to talk with.’

She kissed him on the cheek. ‘You were good too.’ She leered. ‘A shame it wasn’t lost.’

He returned the kiss in kind.

Cadance and Shining Armor moved into Griffonstone. The incessant rumble of the crowd and the howls of dashing Griffons. She kept her head hidden from them. She felt insecure all of the sudden, but continued to walk; the Griffons might take it badly. Armor had mimicked her; he entered, facing down.

They would not care, she hoped. Nobody would truly care if a Princess had entered the vicinity of their home. They would know, of course, she was coming, but nothing more ostensible than the collective agreement that it did not matter.

Nobody had spoken to them. The shouts of mothers and fathers yelling at their children were barely heard above the tumult of the crowd. She heard louder and louder shouts. Cadance had a bad time with accents; understanding whether what she heard were those of merchants or the few still in service order-enforcement officers was hard to discern. Armor fared little better but did not give up helping Cadance understand what they were saying.

She then overheard someone calling her by her title. Then another. And another. Yet no one was stopping her.

They all stood aside, yielding a free passage for Cadance in the middle. The couple paused for a second, unsure how to interpret the display. She took off her hood and resumed her walk with an assured step; letting Armor trail behind her. It was then that an accent-free, weary voice came directly in front of the couple.

‘Princess Cadance.’ She bowed. ‘It is an honor.’

Cadance raised her head, Armor with her. Silence fell, with the few rebel voices still waiting to be quelled. She stifled the urge to look around, instead concentrating her efforts to remove the hood. The Griff raised a claw to help Cadance but was too late in her move.

Her ears felt the cold mountain air for the first time, and she could not help but slightly wince at the annoyance.

‘Gilda, right?’ The Griff nodded. ‘I was told of you. Good words from a certain someone.’

Gilda smiled. ‘She could not come, eh?’

‘I did not tell her. She did not need to know.’

Gilda smiled. ‘I like you already, Princess.’ Her smile quickly deflated. ‘Follow me to the old palace, please.’

****

The two Griffs took the couple into the old conference room of the palace. A circular room lined with arches. Some sported tainted, decorative windows. The invading nature gave the room a scenic look. Whether it was on accident or on purpose, Armor liked it; Cadance less.

Gilda sat down in the table’s middle perimeter; Greta stood behind her. Around the stone table, sat the gathered members of the Regency Council. Cadance counted twenty-six chairs, with twenty-four full, three members were standing, and one was keeping himself aside in isolation of the rest. She came close to ask if it they were nobility or not; neither wore the expected garments nor displayed themselves in contrast with their subjects.

‘Gruff should have been here, but…’ Gilda twirled with her claw in a way to find a proper excuse for his absence.

‘Because he does not care,’ posited Lady Carine, wife of the head of the town of Naniwish, in unhidden frustration.

‘Lord Thoros is not present either – no?’ passive-aggressively asked Yerkati Hank – the owner of one of the few still extant trading caravans to the isolated Sisia.

‘Go eat shit.’ She stayed passively seated.

Many more insults followed directed at him, directly preceded by more hurled toward Carine. She had explained and mentioned her husband’s bad case of food poisoning and, apparently, to no avail.

‘Cut it!’ boomed the voice of Murkbeak, Lord of the Hollow Forest, shushing them all. ‘Do not embarrass yourself more than usual. Sigismund?’ Murkbeak turned to the only creature – bare the Princess, of course – that could quiet them. The knight approached, showing clearly a patchwork of an armor, partially polished and sporting more cloth than actual metal. However, the Griffon behind it retained his pride and a solemn and humble expression.

In the wake of the kingdom’s collapse, the last groups of knights that had served the old monarchs declared themselves neutral in any subsequent power struggle. Under the impulses of former Chapter Master Kante, a sense of stability and safety was returned to the chaos-ridden streets. Though successful, it did not prevent him from meeting his unfortunate end on the edges of a well-placed balcony. It was reported that his armor was heavier than usual that day. At any rate, it did not prevent the knights from upholding his teachings and act, in turn, as the eternal mediators.

Sigismund took his sword halfway through its scabbard, showing its glimmering metal and sharp edges. Shining Armor mused to Cadance that it resembles his own, but she dismissed his observation.

Silence truly returned then. Order was effectively restored.

Cadance moved forward, showing a display of confidence that would make even the proudest Griffon shiver. Then she had to speak, and the illusion was immediately broken.

‘Excuse me if I am impolite with the question…’

Gilda looked at her pleasantly. ‘Ask. It is not like it can get worse.’

‘I was expecting to have a more,’ she made circles with her hooves, ‘chaotic greetings.’ She hesitated. ‘Everything’s well?’

‘We…’ Greta trailed off. ‘We did not expect you to show up. That is all.’

And you smelled profit. ‘You are lying.’ The bluntness stunned them. They all adjusted their postures. ‘Let me rephrase it: you are half lying. You are hiding something. Is it dangerous?’

Gilda hesitated. She scratched the back of her neck with a claw and took the papers detailing the trade deal with the other, taking her time to read it aloud.

‘Are you alright, Gilda?’ She started to feel stress bubbling up. ‘A…’

She did not answer; they all retreated behind their stubbornness.

‘Gilda…’ Cadance moved closer, keeping a smile up. ‘Are you fine?’

‘I… We… saw a thing… Things…’

‘What things? How many of you?’

‘Me and three others…’ She pointed towards Lady Pretzel of Gryphon, Lord Aquiline of Griffin, and that idiot Prince Nightplume of Grizon, who was only there because his parents and five siblings were too busy working on the farm to join the discussions. It was parsnip season, and would very much like to make a small profit by selling the harvest to the Equestrian prince Ball Brick. ‘And others in the public…We all remember a green light.’

‘Changelings,’ quickly posited Cadance, hating herself for the haste.

‘It would explain the red marks,’ shyly remarked Carine.

‘What red marks?’ She did not wait for Gilda to let her inspect her neck. In fact, she did not wait for the permission of anyone to do so. Sigismund was permitting it, better not anger the knights

Cadance pulled out the feathers, revealing four equidistant wounds, with a fifth in direction of their heads.

‘Not Changelings,’ said Cadance calmly. ‘Trust me from experience. I had nearly everything drained when Chrysalis attacked…’

‘Do you remember a green light?’

‘No. I remember screaming with no one hearing, though.’ She failed to make it sound like a simple anecdote.

‘Close. You must be like the others… Some don’t remember a thing.’

‘The dealings are on pause until further notice,’ she declared. ‘They are not canceled. I do intend to see it through. If you let me, I will aid you in uncovering the culprits.’

Greta announced the proposal to the Council; a vote followed with the majority agreeing on the rescheduling.

The ever-silent Sigismund nodded. Complaints were levied but fell on deaf ears.

The meeting was adjourned, and Cadance requested some alone time with Armor. The Chapter Master refused and stated in a cold, emotionless voice.

‘This is not your kingdom, Princess.’

Armor objected and positioned himself to put out a spell.

The sword unravelled, Sigismund pounced on the Equestrian prince, placarding him down on the floor with a claw threatening his vision at any brisk movement. The other knights in the room had moved to surround the royal couple, their weapons unsheathed.

‘Old ties will be restored,’ declared Sigismund, ‘but do not overstate your welcome.’ He looked lengthily into Cadance’s eyes, analyzing her emotions to the very finite details. He discerned rage, barely contained, slightly escaping from widened eyes. ‘We,’ he raised his voice, releasing Armor in the process, helping him to get up, ‘will leave you two alone. A gift as an apology to the Prince and the council’s members’ attitude.’

Cadance made one step forward. ‘Thank you, Chapter Master.’

He nodded, then asked if they would like to be escorted toward their chambers. They accepted.

****

Cadance took back the cloak from Armor, immediately wearing it after they were left on their own. She sat on the relatively well-furnished bed and tucked her cloak close to her.

Armor joined her.

‘They are here…’ he began, scratching where Sigismund’s claw had pinned him.

‘Don’t panic. They will not harm us.’

‘What if they take you or me to their collection? I don’t want any of us to spend eternity there.’

She gazed at him for a whole minute, taking in all his features and carving in her memory. She sighed and then turned toward the opened balcony overlooking a narrow, lush valley. In the distance, the eternal snow could be observed still. Groups of Griffons were flying around in the traitorous winds. Large and small groups played around to test their skills. There was laughter heard from them. Cadance could not help but smile with them.

‘It is beautiful, no?’ She leaned her head on him.

‘Yes.’ Armor paused. ‘Teleport us.’

She frowned. ‘Why bother?’

He distanced himself in a singular push. ‘Flurry-’

‘What is the point, Armor?!’ she nearly ordered, almost forgetting he was her husband. ‘They will be able to follow us. Let the danger remain here, contained. Worst case scenario, we still have the markers, in case we leave the world or… this existence.’

‘Plus,’ continued Cadance, ‘why would they be interested in us? Nobody ever did.’ She laughed awkwardly. ‘Even Sombra did not care for us back then.’

‘The natural parents of an Alicorn.’

She grunted. ‘Why now, then?’ She leaned her head on his shoulder. ‘If we act, it may spur them just out of the joy of messing with “the lower races”. They had almost four years to separate us.’

‘We should have taken her with us.’

‘… Yes,’ she said, defeated.

Cadance sighed in earnest exhaustion.

‘I…’ she shook her head. ‘I should go reassuring the Griffs. At least try.’

‘If you don’t feel like it…’

‘Someone has to. I’ve never “felt like it”, anyways.’

He did not object nor added to her sentiment; it rarely worked.

Cadance then exited the room with controlled haste, Shining Armor trailing behind her.

She spoke with Griffons. She spoke to families and reassured them everything will be alright, that they should fear nothing from that mysterious force.

She was lying, of course. Lying with ease to keep a populace calm was something she had made herself an expert at.

Shining Armor did not say a thing. He stood beside her, using all his discipline and years of gathered curses to keep himself stoic. He was… He was quickly asked to not remain long and rest in the chamber they were given. Armor was Twilight’s brother, after all – the explanations flow on their own.

It was dusk when she returned. Gilda and Greta had invited her to attend a festival celebrating the start of fall and the beginning of the harvest season. She declined, recommending they send them an invite for next year’s.

The couple enjoyed their rare alone time. They reclined their head on each other’s, talking about whatever came to mind, observing the distant, mountainous horizon.

They heard cheers.

Cadance closed her eyes; Armor followed.

They then heard distant chimes; then music; then shy knocks.