Chapter 7: A Day in the Strife
“Spike! Have we heard back from the kittens yet?”
The smaller purple dragon’s face screwed up into a look of momentary confusion. Then comprehension dawned on him and he started to shuffle through the stack of parchment that he was holding in his claws. “You mean the kirin, ambassador? Um…yes! Here we go…” He fished a recently received missive from the pile and very briefly looked it over to refresh his mind regarding its contents before offering it up to the Dragon Lands representative.
“They’re asking for more powder for their artillery. Apparently the griffons managed to burn down a coastal town where a lot of their powder mills were located.” Spike summarized as Ambassador Ember took the offered letter from him. The cobalt dragoness barely even glanced at the contents of the scroll before tossing it away with a disgusted snort.
“Why the fuck did they have their powder mills someplace that was so vulnerable to attack?!” She all but snarled. “Did they think the griffons wouldn’t try to blow them up?!”
Spike hastily grabbed the returned letter before shuffling through a few more sheets to look for a relevant intelligence report. “Um…I believe the town in question was also one of the kirins’ main naval ports. They wanted the powder mills close to the docks so that they didn’t have to transport it super long distances,” the smaller dragon explained, oblivious to the fact that his superior wasn’t even paying attention to him anymore. “Kirin manufacturing techniques aren’t as sophisticated as some others, and so their powder is prone to separating during transport.
“Factor in that they’re…well, kirin, and they keep their powder mills close to where they’re needed to minimize the likelihood of ‘accidents’ that might cause explos—”
“Whatever! Fuck, geez, I didn’t ask for a whole damn lecture,” Ember growled, waving Spike away with a dismissive gesture. “Arrange for them to get some powder. I think there’s still some pretty big stockpiles on Ragnar Island, right?”
“Yes,” Spike confirmed, shuffling to a different sheet of parchment. “The griffon miners needed it for blasting—”
“Well we don’t need it for blasting,” Ember cut in once again, flexing her talons to emphasize her point. “Send it all to the kirin.”
The smaller purple dragon took up a quill and started making some notes. “Yes, ambassador.” There was a brief pause. He glanced over the top of the parchment towards the dragoness, worrying at his lip. “Um…what about payment? Kirin coins aren’t worth as much as they were a year ago, what with the griffons and their ‘special operation’—”
“War, Spike,” Ember cut her assistant off with a snarl. “Fuck what the griffons are calling it; it’s a war.” She took another breath and once more waved her clawed hand at the dragon. “And give them whatever discount they can afford.”
Spike blinked in mild surprise. “Really? That’s awfully generous of you, ambas—”
“It’s not like it cost us anything,” Ember said with a chuckle. “It’s all griffon powder! Any amount the kirin can pay is basically free money!” She pointed out.
“Oh. Right…”
“And besides: the satisfaction of knowing that the griffon fleets are going to get torn up with artillery propelled by their own damn powder is priceless!” Ember wore a toothy grin now. She tapped a claw against her chin, thinking. “I wonder if I should send Gilda a ‘thank you’ note…”
“Something tells me she wouldn’t read it even if you did,” Spike quipped.
“Eh, you’re probably right.” Ember shrugged dismissively before walking over to the corner of the room and collapsing down onto a small pile of gold and silver coins that served as her bedding in the luxurious ambassadorial apartment. While the representative of the Dragon Lands on Harmony had a proper embassy and staff, she rarely availed herself of them unless it was for an official function. She preferred receiving her briefings from her assistant in her personal quarters, where she could lounge around more comfortably.
“So, what else is on the docket?”
Spike shuffled the pages in his claws again. “Um…you have a meeting with the diamond dogs. They want to discuss those gem import negotiations that—”
“Cancel it.”
“Wait, what?”
“Cancel the meeting,” Ember reiterated with a mildly annoyed scowl directed at her assistant. “Now that we have Ragnar Island and its mine again, we don’t need those gems from the dogs.” The dragoness picked up a ruby from among the modest pile of precious metal and stones that she was laying on and tossed it into her mouth, crunching down on it loudly. “Tell them to go try the griffons. They’ll probably be experiencing a supply shortage soon,” she sniggered through a mouthful of crushed crimson gemstone.
Spike frowned but made the note as he’d been directed to. He was pretty sure that Ambassador Rover wasn’t going to like this news very much. The diamond dogs had been quite excited at the prospect of opening up new trade opportunities. “I’ll let them know.”
He flipped to another sheet. “Marshall Garble is hoping to get a meeting with you. He says that he has concerns about our defenses if the griffons get more aggressive but Dragon Lord Torch isn’t taking him seriously. He’s hoping you’ll speak to your father about—”
“If Dad’s not worried, then neither am I,” Ember said, once more flicking her talons in Spike’s direction, waving away the concern. “The griffon’s aren’t as tough as the younger generation thinks they are,” the dragoness insisted. “Just look at how easily we took back Ragnar Island!”
Spike was frowning now. “Yeah, but it was, like, barely even defended—”
“Maybe the griffons used to be these big, bad, scary-powerful cat-birds once upon a time,” the dragoness’ words might have suggested that she was offering a concession, but the derisiveness of her tone hinted at nothing of the sort. She held only contempt for the griffons. “But that was then; this is now. And ‘now’ the griffons are on the decline.
“They’re losing holdings all over the globe,” Ember continued. “Their empire’s crumbling around them bit by bit. Now’s not the time to be cowering in our caves,” she spat. “This is our chance to reclaim everything that was ours before those fucking things showed up on our islands!”
A toothy grin spread across the dragoness’ muzzle as a new thought occurred to her. “...Maybe we can even add some new territory while we’re at it.
“Tell Garble to fuck off back to the Dragon Lands and get his forces ready for more offenses to reclaim the rest of the Scaly Island Chain.”
“...Yes, Ambassador Ember,” Spike said, making a reluctant note on the parchment. The smaller purple dragon performed one final review of all of the documents that he was clutching in his claws before finally sighing. “That’s the last of the new business for this morning, ambassador.
“Is there anything else you’d like me to take care of while I’m out?”
“Hmm…Actually, yes: get some maps with our latest intel on where the griffons have their fleets based. Let’s see where we might be able to snipe some of their holdings without them being able to respond fast enough to do anything about it.” Ember’s snout spread into a wide grin, showing off her glistening fangs. “It’s time us dragons showed the griffons their proper place: groveling at our claws…”
“—Groveling at our paws!” Gilda snarled as she paced back and forth behind her desk in her ambassadorial office. “That’s where the dragons should still be! Along with those fucking kirin!
“Speaking of which…” The golden-haired griffon whirled around and reared up, bringing her talons down hard on the heavy oak desk. “Why haven’t we crushed them yet?!” She roared at the other griffon in the room. “They can’t fly and they barely have a fleet worth mentioning; those tree-horned horses should have been crushed under our talons weeks ago!
“What’s the hold-up?”
The smaller gray-toned griffon hen sitting on the other side of the desk winced, shying away slightly from the irate Republic representative. “W-well you see, ambassador, the kirin are getting a lot of support from some of the other nations—”
“Who?!” Gilda demanded.
“Oh! Um, well, let me see…” Gabby fished out the appropriate sheet of paper from the folder she was holding and started to read off the rather extensive list. “The donkeys, the minotaurs, the horses, hippogriffs—”
The other griffon’s eyes flared wide as she heard her assistant list off just about every other minor race in the general vicinity of the kirin’s homeland. “Why are they all getting involved?! Don’t they realize what they’re risking? Getting involved in a war on the side of our enemy?”
Gabby cringed, briefly weighing the merits of her next words before deciding that she wouldn’t get into too much trouble by speaking them aloud. “...Technically we’re not at ‘war’ with the kirin,” she felt compelled to point out. “We told everycreature that this was about ‘curbing raiding activity from kirin splinter factions—’”
“Yeah? And?!”
The smaller gray hen hesitated for a brief moment longer. “Well…they’re all sending that aid to the internationally recognized government of the kirin nation.” Gabby gave a helpless shrug. “We can’t exactly claim that their whole government is a ‘splinter faction’...”
“Says who?” Gilda snapped back. The griffon ambassador held up a hand and started ticking off her talons as she recited a plan of action, “Find some kirin whose allegiance we can buy that has any kind of worthwhile political pull in Kirea. Then ‘find’ some documents that show they’re relatives of Ramstein—”
“Rain Shine,” Gabby corrected automatically before wincing in anticipation of the rebuke she already knew was coming.
“Do I look like I care?” Gilda said with exasperation. “Find me a kirin that we can claim is the relative of whoever, and we’ll set them up as the more legitimate ruler! We’ll label them the ‘government in exile’, or something.
“We’ve done it before! We did it with the dragons,” the griffon ambassador pointed out. “We installed what’s-his-name; Grudge.”
“Sludge,” came another reflexive correction from the smaller griffon.
“Yeah, that one. We managed to justify the invasion using him back then. It worked great!” Gilda hesitated for a moment, before gruffly adding, “Until they, you know, revolted and got their stick or whatever back to Torch…”
“The Bloodstone Scepter.”
The head of the griffon mission pitched the top of her beak, letting out a beleaguered sigh. “Gabby…I genuinely don’t care what the dragons call their special stick.” She let out a beleaguered sigh. “Look just…get out there and start putting feelers out for a patsy we can prop up to take the Kirean throne, okay? Then figure out what we’d need to do in order to make them look legit so we can push to depose Train Sign.”
Gabby raised a claw and opened her beak to once more offer up corrections for the more senior griffon, but then thought better of it. It was clear that Gilda was not in a particularly great mood as things stood and further antagonizing the griffon was only going to land the smaller gray assistant with ever more daunting tasks.
That was what typically happened when the ambassador was getting upset: she would give Gabby things to do which were largely impossible so that, when the other griffon inevitably failed, Gilda could yell and scream at her and insist that the reason why nothing was going right was all due to Gabby’s bumbling incompetence.
At this point, it was best to just get through the next few hours of fruitless tedium so that they could get to the point where Gilda screamed herself hoarse and told Gabby to come back tomorrow. With any luck, a freshly-rested Gilda would be more open to entertaining genuinely practical solutions to the problems facing the Republic. “Yes, Ambassador Gilda.”
“And don’t come back until you’ve found somekirin!”
Gabby spared a moment to weigh the costs and benefits of taking the ambassador at her word. On the one talon, there was a certain appeal in never having to deal with the obstinate griffon representative again. Gabby was mostly certain that she wasn’t going to find a kirin on Harmony Fortress that would be suitable for Gilda’s proposal. Most of the kirin on the island were associated with the Kirean government in some way, and so probably wouldn’t be amenable to participating in a coup…
On the other talon, it was a fairly small island, and Gabby wasn’t going to be able to stay away from Ambassador Gilda forever. In which case, the sooner she returned and reported her ‘failure’ in finding a patsy, the less time Gilda was going to have to marry herself to the idea of trying to go that route in lieu of any other possible plans. Ultimately, it was probably best for the both of them if Gabby just went out for an hour or two and then came back to report her failure, weather the inevitable screaming fit, and then spend the evening coming up with more practical proposals to offer the ambassador in the morning.
“Yes, Ambassador Gilda.” Gabby bowed and left the office with the intent of at least going to Ponyville. The least she could do was talk to a kirin or two for the sake of following her orders before throwing in the towel…
Generally speaking, dragons weren’t a very common sight around the equine quarter of the island. Most of them were significantly larger than ponies and the other quadrupeds, and so it was often inconvenient to try and squeeze into the shops and recreational establishments that largely catered to such creatures. Most dragons tended to keep to Cowtown, on the island’s north side, where most buildings were built on a significantly larger scale in order to accommodate larger creatures, like minotaurs.
Unlike Ponyville, where most of the residents were indeed specifically ponies, Cowtown was not actually home to a minotaur majority—though it did host a razor-thin plurality of the bovines. However, minotaurs had been the ones to initially move into this area of the island and developed it to suit their needs, with other creatures comparable to their size—like most dragons, diamond dogs, and horses—choosing to congregate in the area later as a matter of convenience.
Ironically, because his stature was considerably smaller than that of a typical dragon his age, Spike tended to feel more out of place in Cowtown specifically because it was built up on a larger scale. He was more comfortable in Ponyville, where he could more easily look other beings in the eye without having to risk straining his neck muscles as a result of having to look up the whole time to maintain eye-contact. The small purple dragon particularly liked patronizing kirin-run establishments, as their partially scaled nature and preference for furnishings which were fire-retardant helped to make him feel more ‘at home’, even when he was away from his ‘home away from home’ on the island.
The little bar that he was presently sitting in while dealing with one of the tasks assigned to him by Ambassador Ember was one of his favorites: The Tufted Tail. It was a relatively low-key bar which was heavily patronized by kirin. Because it catered to a large kirin audience, and those particular equines were known to have a—literal—fiery temper, especially after downing a flagon or two too many, just about everything in the bar was made out of non-flammable material: The floor was tiled, the walls were brick, the roof was slate, the benches were granite, and the tables were steel.
It was one of the few places to eat and drink where Spike didn’t have to worry about incurring a surcharge to cover damages after expelling a particularly hardy burp.
It also made for a convenient place to conduct business with kirin.
“—want to thank you for your time, Miss Blaze,” the little purple dragon finished up, gathering the recently signed lengths of parchment into his claws and ensuring that they were properly organized. “We’ll get the first deliveries of powder to you as soon as we can,” he assured the auburn-maned mare sitting across from him. “Hopefully by the end of the month.”
“No, thank you, Master Spike—and Ambassador Ember!” The scaled equine insisted, a relieved expression washing over her features as she clutched the promissory note to her chest like it was her own precious foal. “You can’t understand what this means for us—” the mare stopped, blinked, and then flashed the dragon a sheepish smile. “Or…maybe you dragons understand exactly what this means?”
Spike nodded, a wan smile of his own tugging at his snout. He was personally too young to have experienced what life had been like while under griffon occupation, but he’d certainly heard plenty of anecdotal accounts from other dragons growing up. He’d also done enough reading in his role as the aide to Ambassador Ember to have a pretty firm understanding of the long and sordid history of diplomatic relations that dragons had enjoyed with the other races of the world prior to the Dragons Lands invasion and occupation by the griffons.
Which was to say: essentially none at all.
At least, nothing positive.
For many centuries, dragons had been regarded by the other races as being barely sentient. This view hadn’t been entirely held out of prejudice either. The fact was that a lot of dragons had barely bothered to talk with members of other races. Instead, most of the contact between dragons had amounted to the dragon in question attacking the other creature and taking anything and everything of value in their possession. Ships had tended to give the islands of the Scaley Archipelago a wide berth too, as there had always been a better-than-even chance of some great wyrm flying down and pillaging the vessel’s cargo.
This behavior had ultimately ended up lending the Griffonian Republic’s initial confrontations with the Dragon Lands an air of legitimacy, as it had first been framed as the griffons confronting a threat posed by ‘mindless beasts’ that were terrorizing travelers. It hadn’t taken long after that for it to become clear that dragons were more than just another variety of monster, like a hydra or a cragodile.
Unfortunately, it also soon became clear that it didn’t really matter all that much. Dragons had earned a rather unflattering reputation over their centuries of raiding. So, when the griffons came to their islands in force, with cannons and guns that weren’t rebuffed by dragonhide in the way that spears and arrows had once been, the dragons had found themselves with few races that expressed any sympathies for their plight. There certainly hadn’t been anycreature who’d been willing to help them.
In Spike’s opinion, a lot of his fellow dragons—Ambassador Ember included—had taken exactly the wrong lesson from all of that. In his mind, the lack of sympathy and aid in the dragons’ time of greatest need should have been a wake-up call that the way they’d been conducting themselves with the other races of the world was ultimately self-destructive. No matter how proud and mighty dragons might think of themselves, they couldn’t just keep trying to go their own way alone. They needed friends—allies—who would help them when larger threats appeared.
That wasn’t how most dragons saw things though—and that included the ambassador and her father, the Dragon Lord. For them, their internationally unopposed enslavement at the claws of the griffons had demonstrated that the rest of the world didn’t care what happened to dragons, and that they couldn’t count on anycreature to help them. In their minds, they’d just been living their lives the way that dragons were supposed to—accumulating their hordes from any who were too weak to oppose them—when the griffons came around and enslaved them for no good reason! And, while it may have taken some time, eventually the dragons were able to rise up and liberate themselves; without any help or support from the other races.
Spike’s views on what had led to his race’s subordination to the griffons—and how to avoid similar disasters in the future—were, to put things mildly: ‘unpopular’. So the little purple dragon mostly kept them to himself. At least, when he was around other dragons—especially Ember.
However, in this particular moment, he felt a little more comfortable expressing himself. “It’s hard feeling like you’re alone,” Spike agreed with a sober nod. “I’m glad we can help you. I know it’s not a lot…” A few hundred tons of gunpowder was hardly going to turn the tide in the kirins’ favor, not against a foe as numerous and mighty as the Republic. At best, it would just put off the inevitable for a few more months.
“It’s plenty, Master Spike—”
“You don’t have to call me ‘master’,” the dragon whelp insisted, squirming uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m just a glorified secretary…”
“You have brought my kind hope!” Autumn Blaze insisted, waving the parchment that she was clutching in her cloven hooves to accentuate her point. “As far as the kirin are concerned, that makes you a hero.
“Thank you. I’ll never be able to say it enough, Master Spike, Thank you!” The red-maned mare was once more clutching the proof of the dragons’ promise to send aid to her chest.
Again the little dragon felt profoundly uncomfortable to receive this level of praise from the mare. She was positively gushing over a little bit of gunpowder…that the ambassador was giving to the kirin because it amounted to little more than trash as far as the dragons were concerned. It made the adoration feel…undeserved.
“...You’re welcome, Miss Blaze—”
“Autumn, please,” the scaled-equine insisted, finally carefully folding up the parchment and securing it in her asbestos-lined saddlebag. She looked back at Spike and opened her mouth to say more…but then her eyes looked past him and widened—
—Before immediately narrowing. Autumn Blaze’s lips pulled back into a sneer as her eyes remained locked on something that lay behind the dragon. A low growl started to build up in the kirin’s throat. A few wisps of smoke started to waft up from the corners of the mare’s eyes.
Confused, and even a little alarmed, the purple dragon turned around to see what it was that could have affected the mare’s mood so dramatically. Which was when he spotted a familiar gray-speckled griffon hen who was standing in the doorway of the bar…and looking profoundly uncomfortable while doing so.
Autumn Blaze’s visceral reaction to the sight of the griffon was not a unique one. Spike could feel the ambient temperature of the room rising several degrees as multiple kirin noticed the arrival of the griffon. The dragon wasn’t sure if they would have reacted this way to any griffon who happened to walk into their bar, or if this reaction was reserved for the Republic ambassador’s aide specifically.
In either case, Spike largely considered his business here done with, and so didn’t see any reason why he should stick around. He packed away his own papers and headed for the door. Gabby stepped aside as he passed, giving the smaller dragon a wide berth. She also wasn’t looking at him.
The two of them hadn’t said much to each other since the incident involving Ragnar Island. Not that the pair of aides had done a lot of talking in their off hours prior to it either. However, they at least used to trade courtesies as they’d passed in the streets—or separated their vitriolic charges. That hadn’t been happening these last couple of weeks though.
Spike paused in the doorway. He looked up at the griffon. “Hey.”
Gabby didn’t say anything at first. It looked like she was genuinely surprised to be acknowledged by the dragon at all. Eventually she managed to get out a quiet “hey” of her own though. She was still having trouble meeting the dragon’s gaze.
He glanced over his shoulder towards the glowering kirin, then looked back at the speckled hen. “It’ll probably get rough if you go in there,” he cautioned.
“...Yeah.”
Both creatures went quiet again. The tension in the bar felt like it had ratcheted up a further notch or two as every eye in the room stared intently at the two creatures. The two of them weren’t just some random dragon and griffon. They were official representatives of their respective governments. Whatever they said could often be justifiably interpreted as being an ‘official position of their government’ when they were alone. When they talked together, it could be construed as a ‘negotiation’. If they were overheard saying things to each other—and their words weren’t chosen very carefully—it could cause problems if those words got back to their superiors.
There were things that Spike wanted to say…but not here, and not now.
So he left without saying them.
Spike was halfway to his meeting with the diamond dogs to break the news to them about the dissolution of their gem trade when he caught sight of a pony stepping out of a nearby alley and waving him down. The little purple dragon slowed down and regarded the stallion for a moment to see if he recognized them. The first thing that Spike noticed about the buttercream unicorn was that he was on the taller side, and quite thin too. He wore his red and white striped tail a little longer than most stallions tended to as well. The pony’s attire—a blue and white striped shirt with a black bowtie—was a little on the dated side, as far as fashion went, but not horrendously so.
“Can I help you?” The dragon asked.
“On the contrary, my dear fellow, it is I who can help you!” The unicorn countered happily, a smile plastered across his muzzle. “My brother and I would like to offer your ambassador the opportunity of a lifetime!”
“Really?” Spike didn’t make an effort to disguise his obvious skepticism. It was frankly quite remarkable how many creatures suddenly wanted to be ‘friends’ with dragons, now that they’d show that they could stand up to the Republic and make the griffons back off. Dragons were being seen as something of a rising political power, sort of like how the ponies were, and a lot of creatures wanted to be on the Dragon Lord’s good side all of a sudden.
Creatures, both Ember and Spike were quick to note, who hadn’t cared enough to lift a hoof, claw, feather, or finger, when the griffons had had their paws planted firmly on dragon throats. These creatures didn’t care about helping the dragons; they cared about being helped by the dragons.
“If you’d like to meet with Ambassador Ember, then I can make an appointment for you,” Spike said without even a hint of interest. “Just a heads up though: it’ll probably be in about a month or so, at the soonest.”
The smile on the pony’s face briefly faltered slightly before reaffirming itself. “Your ambassador will really want to hear what my brother and I have to offer sooner than that—”
“Are you here on behalf of the Equestrian government?” Spike interrupted. His tone made it clear that he already knew the answer to that question. It wasn’t that he was giving the stallion an opportunity to lie, but rather that the dragon was trying to hint that certain categories of potential appointments got priority. “Or any government?”
“...Nooo…” The stallion responded very carefully, looking like he’d had to actually consider how he was going to respond to the question. “Not as such…
“But—!”
“Then you’re going to have to wait,” Spike cut the unicorn off again with a shrug. “Ambassador Ember has a lot of demands for her time, and most of them are from other ambassadors or government representatives. I can't bump them for some random pony and his absent brother,” the dragon waved a claw around them, noting that he and the lone stallion were the only creatures in the immediate area.
“He’s soliciting other potential clients—” The pony began, only to be interrupted again.
“Then you’re probably both better off selling whatever it is you’ve got to them,” Spike said with a dismissive wave of his claws before turning and continuing on to meet with the diamond dogs.
The little purple dragon didn’t see the unicorn frown, but he did hear the scoffing words that followed him out of the alleyway. “You’re going to regret letting this opportunity pass you by!” Spike merely snorted and shook his head.
Gabby watched the little purple dragon walk away from the bar without another word. There was a moment where she wanted to call after him. It was a fleeting one though. Especially when she once more glanced in the direction of the kirin in the dimly-lit bar who very clearly didn’t appreciate the presence of a griffon in ‘their’ bar—certainly not a griffon that was under the employ of the Republic government.
The gray griffon hen debated walking further in anyway. This would hardly be the first—metaphorically—cold reception that she’d gotten from a group of kirin today. Frankly, the fact that none of them had gone full nirik yet actually boded quite well—!
Oh, wait…no…that kirin in the corner just burst into flames.
Deciding that she’d already plucked out enough burnt feathers for one day, Gabby beat a hasty retreat back out into the street. She cast one final cautious glance over her shoulder to ensure that none of the bar’s patrons were interested in chasing her down before allowing herself to let out a resigned sigh and commit to ending her futile mission to find a cooperative kirin on Harmony. It wasn’t going to happen, and Gilda was just going to have to make peace with that.
Instead, she decided that her time would be better spent trying to get a meeting with some gem suppliers. Now that the Republic no longer had access to the rich deposits of precious stones on Ragnar Island, there was a hole in the griffon domestic market which needed to be filled.
Unlike a few of the races in the world, griffons weren’t particularly magically inclined. So they didn’t have a need for gems in the same way that, say, ponies did. Nor did they use them as a food source like dragons or diamond dogs. However, griffons did still have a mundane use for them like many other races: as jewelry. Perhaps more so than some other races, griffons had a special love of shiny trinkets. Decorative accents studded with glittering gemstones were in high demand among griffon nobility and those of wealth and means.
The Republic’s dominion over the Dragon Lands, which were rich in gemstone deposits, had provided the griffons with a plentiful source of gems for over a century, which had glutted the Griffonian markets with precious stones and gaudy jewelry. This had allowed for even the commoner classes of the Republic to start adorning themselves with the sort of jewelry that had, at one point, only been reserved for the nobility.
As a consequence, the nobles had seen a need to “outdo” the commoners and set new standards of dress for themselves. Obscene quantities of gemstones had become an essential component of just about every article of clothing worn by a well-to-do griffon. Gabby had seen suits and dresses worn by the rich and powerful which resembled stained-glass windows more than they did actual clothing.
However, after the dragons had revolted and kicked the griffons out of most of the islands of their native archipelago, it had fallen to the few remaining mines which the Republic still controlled to keep up with demand and ensure that the nobility’s hunger for gems remained sated. Otherwise, they might start expressing their displeasure for how the government was conducting itself.
When the richest and most powerful griffons in the Republic started to get unhappy with how the Griffonian leadership was performing, a change in that leadership wasn’t likely to be far behind. And such changes were rarely bloodless…
With the mines on Ragnar Island now back in the claws of the dragons, a shortage of gems in the Republic was inevitable. New sources needed to be found, and soon.
Gabby decided that she would first try her luck with some pony merchants first. There were still a lot of ponies who were grateful to the griffons for their willingness to continue to trade all throughout their war with the zebras. A lot of the other races had embargoed Equestria during the invasion, so as not to risk incurring the wrath of striped equines. The Republic, meanwhile, had decided that the risk was worth the reward, and sought the opportunity to extract every bit of wealth that they could out of the doomed race while they still could. The prices that the griffons had charged the ponies had frankly been extortionate, but the Equestrians had seen themselves as being on the brink of extinction, and so they’d paid those high prices without a second thought, and even thanked the griffons for their help.
The speckled griffon hen just hoped that the ponies wouldn’t sense the imminent desperation of the Republic’s own need for gems and charge the same sort of exorbitant rates—
“Oh, sorry!” Gabby squawked as she inadvertently bumped into a stallion standing in her way. The griffon reasoned that she must have been too distracted to notice him there. She hastily brushed off his striped shirt and bowtie before offering up an apologetic smile to the mustached unicorn. She picked the straw skimmer hat that she’d inadvertently knocked off and held it out to the pony. “I didn’t see you there; and I’m kind of in a hurry—”
“Now now, think nothing of it, miss!” The lanky buttercream stallion declared, waving off the hen’s attempt at an apology. His telekinetic field reached out and took the hat from Gabby’s outstretched claws, setting it over his red and white streaked mane. “No harm done! In fact, I’m grateful to have ‘bumped’ into you, as you’re just the griffon I’ve been looking for!”
Gabby balked. Then she cocked her head and raised her brow. “...I am?” She reached a clawed hand into her satchel and took out a piece of paper with a list of the day’s meetings written on it. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I have you on my schedule for today—”
“My dear, when you hear what my brother and I have to offer your ambassador, you’ll make the time!” The unicorn declared, his lips spreading into a grin that was almost too wide to be a truly friendly one.
“Oh, you want a meeting with Ambassador Gilda?” That made sense, Gabby supposed. Most creatures knew who she was, and that the only way to really get a meeting with the head of the Griffonian Mission on Harmony was to speak with her. “Well, she’s very busy today—” Busy being too angry to take meetings, anyway, “so I can’t get you a meeting right now—”
“It doesn’t have to be right this moment,” the unicorn assured her, his broad smile still firmly in place. “But, you should know: the offer that my brother and I have for her has a fairly limited shelf-life. The sooner we can meet, the better!”
“Your brother?” The hen quirked her brow a little higher up on her face as she glanced around the street, but couldn’t spot any nearby ponies who resembled the stallion talking with her right this moment. Granted, she supposed she wasn’t an expert on pony appearance…
“He’s not here right now; he’s meeting with other potential clients.” The smile on the unicorn’s face took on a surprisingly predatory glint for a pony. “Which is all the more reason it’s in the best interests of your ambassador to meet with us as soon as possible: the services my brother and I have to offer can only be offered to a single—exclusive—client!
“And there’s bound to be some fierce competition for what we’re providing.”
Gabby was unable to keep the frown off of her face. Her role as Ambassador Gilda’s aide meant that she was frequently propositioned with requests—or even outright demands—to speak with the Republic delegation’s Head of Mission. Naturally, just about every request was prefaced as being some flavor of ‘urgent’ that couldn’t possibly wait for any significant length of time to be addressed. Over the years, the smaller gray hen had become immune to the typical pushy tactics used by petitioners.
“...Right. I’ll see what I can do, but like I said before: you’re not on my schedule and Ambassador Gilda is busy right now. So if you want to try later, I’ll see if I can do anything for you.” The hen offered a slight bow of her head and moved to step around the buttercream stallion. “In the meantime: have a good day.”
“Later it is, then,” the stallion called out after her. “And a good day to you, Miss Gabby!”
The griffon hesitated for a brief moment at the sound of her name being used. She was sure that she hadn’t introduced herself…
Of course, the stallion had obviously known that she was Gilda’s aide, so it stood to reason that he would have known her name too. Still, it had been a little disconcerting to be called by name by a pony whose name she didn’t know.
Gabby shook off the unease and headed on her way.
It was getting late in the day. At least, that was what Gabby thought to herself as she shuffled the glass in front of her on the table between her talons. She’d only taken the one sip of its contents since sitting down, electing instead to watch the amber liquid slosh around its interior as she toyed with it. She didn’t feel much like drinking, in all honesty.
She heard the approach of claws clicking on wood. Then there was the soft grunt of effort as a significantly smaller creature hauled itself into the bench across from her and slid down. A bowl containing a glittering blue concoction sat in front of the new arrival.
“Sapphire soup?” The griffon hen guessed. It was an extremely safe guess, as the dragon sitting across from her always ordered the same thing whenever they came here.
Theirs had started as a notedly unlikely friendship, Gabby would admit. On the face of it, it never should have even happened, given all of the historical bad blood that existed between the griffons and the dragons. Indeed, Gabby had been ready to treat the little purple dragon with the same stoic silence that she had learned to give to any dragon that she encountered—if only to forestall the potential outbreak of violence that was likely to erupt any time griffons and dragons exchanged more than two words with one another.
It wasn’t because of any personal animosity on her part. Gabby hadn’t known a time when the griffons reigned over the dragons. To her, they weren’t ‘former subjects’ or ‘exploitable resources’ the way that some of the older griffons regarded them. They were just…creatures. Just one of the many other races that existed in the world and wanted to live in it on their own terms, no different from the griffons.
However, she understood that for dragons—well, most dragons—it wasn’t exactly easy to let ‘bygones be bygones’ where the Republic was concerned. Not when the griffons still controlled so much land that had once belonged to the dragons, and not when Griffonian rhetoric constantly made it clear that the official position of the Republic was that dragons were still little more than barely-sentient monsters in their eyes.
In a weird way, it had been that rhetoric which had led to Gabby and Spike getting to know each other better, ironically enough.
Because the ‘official’ opinion of the Republic’s government was that dragons were of middling intelligence, it had also been their opinion that an actual ambassador’s time was too valuable to be spent ‘negotiating with animals’, and so Gilda hadn’t ever participated in any direct talks with the dragons on Harmony. She’d sent Gabby in her stead.
Similarly, because the ambassador of the Griffonian Republic refused to meet with the dragon Mission, Ambassador Ember refused to sit down and talk with a ‘lowly aide’, and had sent Spike in her stead. Which had left the two young aides to sit alone and hash out whatever recent issues had cropped between their races. Those meetings had evolved into lunches in town, if only so that they wouldn’t have to be cramped up inside some conference room in The Citadel all day. When they’d finished their business, but not quite their meals, they’d broached unofficial topics of conversation with each other, if only to pass the time.
Gabby would never be able to put a talon on the exact moment the two of them had become friends—chances were that neither could Spike—but there was little doubt between the two that they were friends.
A fact that they kept from both of their respective bosses.
Spike took a noisy sip of the steaming gemstone suspension before letting out a contented sigh and relaxing into his seat. “Yup!” He then craned his head to peer at the drink that was drifting between Gabby’s talons. “That doesn’t smell like cider,” he noted.
“It’s not,” the griffon confirmed. “It was a long day; I wanted to try something a little harder. It’s rum.
“I don’t like it.”
“...Do you want to order something else?”
Gabby lifted the glass and took a drink of her bitter beverage before setting it down again. “No,” she said with a shudder and silent gag.
Spike’s eyes darted between the griffon and her drink, a look of concern etched in his face. “...That bad, huh?”
“Gilda’s always been a bit…um…” the hen grasped for the word that she wanted to use.
“...Of a bitch?”
“Prickly,” Gabby finally finished with an amused snort in the little dragon’s direction. The smile which tugged at the corners of her beak was far too fleeting though, in Spike’s opinion. A second later, the griffon was looking despondently back down at the contents of her glass. “But lately…she’s been getting a lot worse. Especially since the…you know…”
“The whole Ragnar thing,” Spike correctly concluded, earning a solemn nod from the griffon. “Yeah, I can see that.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you dragons are getting your lands back,” Gabby assured him. “I’m especially glad that nogriff—and nodragon—was really hurt during the whole thing.” And all of that was true, and she hoped her friend knew that. “But it obviously didn’t go over well back in the Republic…”
Spike allowed himself a mirthless snort at what was undoubtedly quite the understatement on Gabby’s part. “I can imagine it didn’t, no.”
The dragon was clicking his claws on the bowl in front of him now as he battled briefly with himself about how much more he wanted to say. He considered Gabby to be his friend, and he knew that she felt the same way about him. However, their bond came with certain limits—and explicit caveats.
Whatever else the two of them might be, they would always be agents of their respective races. They owed a duty to those races as a result. Which meant that, while Gabby would always make a good-faith effort to keep anything Spike told her in confidence…that desire to honor their friendship would always end up warring with her duty to her office, and the Republic.
He didn’t want to put the hen in a position where she’d have to betray him in order to stay faithful to her fellow griffons.
“Ember’s been getting…um…”
“Bitchy?” Gabby flashed a smile at the dragon, who in turn chuckled.
“Pushy,” he lightly corrected. “I think she’s letting the success go to her head. The dragons evict a bunch of griffon civilians off of one barely-defended island, and suddenly she’s acting like we’re one of the most powerful forces on the planet!” Spike let out an exasperated sigh.
“It’s like she doesn’t even care that we’re risking alienating the few races that gave us any kind of support after we liberated ourselves…”
“Tell me about it,” the griffon hen huffed. “I can count on one hand how many races the Republic’s not antagonizing. But I’d need both hands and my paws to count off the races we’re actively bullying!
“In fact, it might only be the ponies and the zebras that we’re not screwing with.” A moment of brief thought, followed by an eyeroll. “And the alicorns, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“But, try to tell either of them it’s a bad idea to piss off the other races…” Gabby lamented before taking another deep gulp of the beverage that she quite obviously despised the taste of.
“Us dragons have a long tradition of going our own way,” said Spike, stirring his sapphire soup with an idle claw, “so it’s not really a huge surprise to me that Ember and Dragon Lord Torch think we can stand on our own. But I thought you griffons would appreciate teamwork. Don’t you always fly in flocks or something?”
“You’re thinking of pegasi,” Gabby waved off the dragon before grimacing. “Before we met you dragons, the only thing that we griffons hated more than literally all other creatures on the planet: were other griffons.” The hen flashed Spike a grin as she relayed the old Republic joke. It was a wholly mirthless expression.
“Oof.”
“Yeah, I think the only reason we keep picking fights with everycreature else is because, if we didn’t, we’d end up picking fights with each other.”
“That’s depressing,” Spike noted. Gabby nodded in agreement. “It’s also pretty relatable…which is just more depressing.” Another nod of agreement from the gray hen.
“I should try and arrange a meeting with the zebras or the ponies,” Gabby began, elaborating when she saw the quizzical eyeridge raise from Spike. “A decade ago, they were at war—one side had even nearly wiped out the other—and now they seem on somewhat friendly terms.”
“Didn’t a zebra kill a pony when that ship was here last week?” Spike pointed out.
“I didn’t say things were perfect,” Gabby sighed, “but Colonel Sparkle and Ambassador Zecora can at least manage to sit through a whole Council meeting without lobbing a single death threat at each other. That’s leaps and bounds better than what us griffons and dragons are doing!”
“That’s fair.” Spike finally picked up his bowl and poured the solution of finely-ground sapphire dust down his gullet. “If they ever tell you their secret, be sure to clue me in on it too.
“I’ve got to go, Gabs; we’ll talk later?”
“Of course. See you later, Spike.”
The speckled hen watched the dragon leave the cafe with a much less forlorn look this time…only for her mood to immediately be soured less than a minute later when a familiar mustached unicorn with a buttercream coat strode in. A nearly identical stallion—save for the lack of facial hair—entered the cafe at his side. Both ponies made their way towards Gabby’s booth and sat themselves down on the bench that Spike had recently vacated.
“You again,” the griffon sighed at the mustached unicorn, before her gaze swapped over to the clean-shaven member of the duo sitting across from her. “And this is the brother you mentioned, I take it?”
“He’s Flim—” “—He’s Flam.” The pair stated in perfect coordination, obviously having introduced themselves in this fashion quite a few times before.
“You told us to come by later—” “—And ‘later’ is ‘now’.” The pair were grinning at the griffon. “And lucky for you—” “—Our once-in-lifetime-offer is still up for grabs—!” “—But not for long—!” “—No, not for long!”
“You and your illustrious ambassador should strike now, while the iron is still hot—!” “—No time to strike like a hot time to strike! Right, brother-of-mine?”
“Right you are, brother-of-mine!”
Gabby’s eyes darted between the two unicorns as they spoke in their disconcertingly synchronized manner. She knew that ponies were good at working together, but this stuck her as a little outside the norm, even for Equestrians. It also sounded very ‘sales-pitchy’. The griffon frowned…but she wasn’t ready to give them the boot just yet. The least she could do was hear a little more about their offer, and whether or not Gilda would consider it worth her time.
“And what is this ‘offer’? What would the Republic be getting?”
“Power—” “—Riches—” “—A seat at the head of the table on the world stage—!” “—It could even be a ‘table for one’, if you’d like!”
Gabby was immediately dubious regarding the former offers on the list…and more than a little wary of the implications surrounding the latter. “...And all of this power and riches would cost the Republic…what, exactly?”
“Nothing!” The pair responded in unison, grinning broadly back at the griffon.
“Pull my tail again,” the hen scoffed. “And why exactly would you help out the Republic for free?” Assuming that they even can help, Gabby thought to herself. This whole affair stunk of a con.
“Isn’t that what friends do for one another?” The mustached stallion prompted.
“We’re friends?”
“We could be—” “—We should be!”
“Your ambassador will want to be our friend—” “—More specifically—” “—More correctly—” “—More directly—” “—She’ll want to be our associate’s friend—” “—Our soon-to-be mutual associate—” “—If you accept—” “—If Ambassador Gilda accepts—” “—Which she should.”
Gabby felt confident that she was going to strain her neck looking between these two stallions if this conversation went on for too much longer. “Okay…and what are the two of you—”
“—And our associate!”
“—And your associate,” the griffon amended absently, “offering the Republic, specifically? What are you willing to do for us?”
Both brothers leaned forward and grinned at the aide. “Well that depends…” Began the stallion with the mustache. The next part was said in unison:
“...What do you want?”
"We're not friends; we're coworkers."
As always, a thumbs up and comment are greatly appreciated
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I like the Babylon 5 reference in the description. It was such a great show....
"I'd like to live just long enough to be there when they cut off your heads and stick them on pikes, as a warning to the next ten generations that some favors come with too high a price. I want to look up into your lifeless eyes and wave like this." Gabriella
as a babylon 5 lifelong fan till the day I die, when I saw the flim flam brothers were taking the place of mr morden...and that line...I couldn't resist speaking for gabby like her centauran babylon 5 counterpart would have.
I'm loving this fic to pieces...I am wondering who will take the place of the shadows though
12029996
Gabby at some future date probably:
64.media.tumblr.com/a6164cee113ab27a85e24ca745a649b0/b06302a384ddc499-75/s400x600/07e0d1a1e49601c6aecd1d59d24be078d2a2f306.gif
Glad you're enjoying the story; it's certainly been a lot of fun to write so far!
12030104
this is a good fic...the modifications to the setting so it fits equestria are working well...though I wonder who will take the place of the shadows
12030211
I don't know why I've been cagy up to this point about answering this, as it has been asked multiple times and it's not really any kind of "spoiler". I mean, the cover and title kind of give it all up: "The Shadows" are going to be Nightmare Moon leading an army of what are basically tantibuses.
I know a lot of readers have been suspecting changelings, and I totally get it. The two groups do share a visual aesthetic, and I won't say the thought never crossed my mind, because it did at first. But, sorry, no changelings will be appearing in this fic. Or will they?!
This story is basically the pilot episodes of FiM, but as B5; so it'll be featuring the villain from the pilot.
Not the choice I would have made Mr. Morden, but really there are not very many duplicitous utter jackasses to choose from in MLP. I'm assuming you have some other sort of plan for Trixie or just didn't consider her an option? The flim flam brothers are fine choices, at least you are doing stuff with them, it's clear the show wanted to do more with them but kept chickening out.
12033679
?
I doubt I'll do much with Trixie. She certainly won't be appearing anywhere in this story. I don't need anyone (else) to antagonize Twilight with, so I don't have much of a use for Trixie; and I can't think of a recurring B5 character that she'd be a decent expy for. Maybe if I ever have a breather chapter that brings in Rebo and Zooty (Trixie and Snips & Snails)
12033698
Well, Sheridon liked those two so that might not work, plus it would be too out of the way to include them in a single chapter, especially at the speed you're taking the story.