Dances With Griffons
Grapes and the others did as the Captain had requested over the speakers and gathered their belongings and prepared to disembark. The landing was smooth but the passengers disembarked a little slowly for Grapes’ taste. She didn’t really understand what was slowing the line down so much… then she got to the hatch and looked out. The station was enormous… large enough to house several dirigibles, and it looked like it had been cast from marble. It had to have been larger than Canterlot Palace. It took her a moment to realise she had been standing gobsmacked at the whole thing, and embarrassedly trotted out of the way of the other passengers.
“Great,” she mumbled to nopony in particular. “Ten seconds on arrival and I’ve established myself as another bloody tourist. Way to represent the home team, Grapes.”
“Don’t feel so bad,” a guard said from his post. “Everygriff has that reaction the first time. Not many buildings are large enough to fly around in like this. By the way, yes, anygriff with a pair of wings IS allowed to fly in here. Just so long as they do it in an orderly fashion that follows the main routes.”
“That makes sense. Even visitors have to follow the local traffic laws,” Grapes observed, as she made her way to the queue. “Okay, everypony, do I have to emphasize how important it is to remain together as we make our way to the palace, or will I have to bust out the leashes?”
"You heard the lass. We're on the clock right now and there will be time fer sightseein' later," Squall said making a motion with his hoof, and causing the team to line-up as if they were getting ready to pull a cart. “Right… all fallen in then? Good. Lead on, Lass.”
“Let’s move on then. Like Squall said, we’re on the clock, and should present ourselves at the palace in a timely manner. In other words, I don’t have time to go wandering around a city I’ll get lost in looking for you all,” Grapes said, as they trotted along.
They followed the colored lines on the floor traveling across the terminal to the luggage desk where they turned in their chits for their personals. They stepped out from the line of traffic to a wall and slipped on their new uniforms.
Grapes was now feeling a bit more “official” with her uniform vest, along with her seal on her chain. They then proceeded toward the palace, Grapes making use of a map she had procured.
“Huh… it’s been a while…” Squall mused as he surveyed their surroundings as they traveled. “Can’t say that I know exactly where I am here, lass. I’m used to arriving at the docks and working me way from there. Still… when yer city’s shaped like a dart-board it’s jest common sense where to go to reach the middle.”
“They built the city shaped like a dart board?” Grapes asked.
“Dart board, wheel, big circle, it’s all good lass.” Squall said looking up at a sign near a small shelter-like structure outside the terminal. “Found a taxi stop. Wanna walk or let a local get us there?”
“Let’s take a cab,” Grapes sighed. “This is a lot larger than Ponyville.”
“Right. So it shouldn’t cost that much. They used to have competitive rates for the various taxi companies,” Squall began before a large cart-like vehicle pulled up in front of them.
The gold and black conveyance was being hauled by a massive lizard-like creature and controlled by a rather military-looking griffon in ornate armor. Behind him was a far more… feminine griffon in long red robes highlighted with golden designs. She leaned casually on the side of the cart and arching an eyebrow held up a small hand-made sign that read “Sour Grapes and Equestrian Diplomatic Party” in the manner Grapes had seen ponies do at the train station.
“Good afternoon, Sour Grapes. Your royal vizier informed me of your approach and I felt that it was my duty to bring you straight to the palace.” She paused and ran her immaculate talons through the thick crest of black feathers that sat on top of her head like a manestyle. “Allow me to introduce myself, I am Golden Wingspan, Royal Chamberlain to Emperor Farsight although ‘Goldie’ will suffice in a pinch.”
“Hello, Your Grace. Thanks for coming for us. What is that contraption, if I may ask?” Grapes asked.
“Oh this?” Golden said with a smirk. “It’s a military transport usually used for earthbound operations. It was repurposed for use in military parades for extremely aged members whom it would be rather... embarrassing to ask to march or soar for long periods at a time. I figured since you had a moderate sized honor guard that I should at least give you room to stretch your legs… all of them.”
“Much obliged, yer grace.” Squall said with a tip of his hat. “We appreciate you stepping off yer busy schedule long enough to make certain we don’t get lost in yer beautiful city.”
“Mmmhmm. And this must be the indomitable Captain Squall. Welcome back to Capitol City, sir,” the chamberlain said before pulling a lever resulting in a short set of stairs to fold down from the back. “Now, if you’ll step lively, ponies, we’ll be taking a direct and yet scenic route to the palace. It will be best if we present you to his eminence as quickly as possible so that the rest of your mission can move at a more leisurely pace.”
“I appreciate this, greatly, Your Grace,” Sour Grapes said, as she trotted up the stairs.
One by one the Storm Riders followed, finding places to sit on the wide padded benches in the war-cart. The eight pony group was then followed by a ninth figure, when Robin began to ascend behind them.
“Straight to the palace, eh? I’ll just come along then…”
The driver turned and was instantly pressing his buggy-whip against the elderly Griffon’s chestplate with a growl.
“Forget it, grandpa. This is a Vee-Aye-Pea shuttle, step down before I am forced to make you step down.”
There was a moment of silence as Robin looked down at the whip with an air of near-disinterest before he leaned forwards a little and smirked.
“Try me.”
There was a moment of motion, the driver apparently getting ready to do something but never quite making it. Sour Grapes couldn’t quite figure out what happened but one moment the driver was in the cart and the next he was laying in the street and Robin was climbing into the driver’s seat next to Golden Wingspan.
“Nice to see you again, Miss Wingspan. Taking good care of my empire I trust?”
“You… oh. Robin the Red Breasted. I didn’t know you were coming back to Capitol City. Had I but known I’d have baked you a cake… one with hemlock seasoning but still, it’s the thought that counts.”
“Miss Wingspan here has always been ready to offer me an ‘easy way out’ of my longevity. She’s very thoughtful that way.”
“It’s a curse, Your Grace. I’m pretty sure he would not be allowed an ‘easy way out’,” Grapes observed, settling in, and smiling at Golden Wingspan. “He would be in constant, chronic, agonizing pain, but he would probably not die.”
“It’s a chance I’m willing to take,” she smirked before turning back to Robin. “Do you still remember how to drive one of these things, old one?”
“It’s like a bicycle. You never forget… although you’re always a little wobbly at first.”
The guard groaned and managed to climb back up into the cart, wisely taking a position at the back and letting Robin take the reins. He made a clucking sound and the lizard lunged forwards, starting the cart in motion.
The trip was a leisurely one. Neither too slow or too fast, it gave the ponies time to get used to their surroundings. Often they found themselves being looked at by pedestrians as much as they were looking at everything else. Sour Grapes was glad that they donned their “uniforms” before exiting the terminal. It at least made them look as if they actually belonged in the war-cart along with the High Chamberlain and Robin the Red Breasted. Grapes sighed a bit, watching the city go by as they traveled to the palace.
It was surprising how quickly they found themselves in front of it. It was as if they turned a corner and it just… appeared. A massive edifice of ornate carvings in a wall that stretched out as far as they could see in either direction. Grapes was surprised, and was mentally comparing the palace here with the palace in Canterlot. There were a lot of differences, of course, the most obvious being the more martial theme of the edifice. Also, the main gate back home didn’t look so well-fortified. She wasn’t an engineer but she recognised banded oak when she saw it, and it looked like a whole grove gave its existence to this pair of doors.
Golden Wingspan made a motion to the guards who opened the gates… eventually. Gates that large required a lot of momentum to start opening. It was still very impressive and the view beyond was even more impressive. The palace was still a distance away from the gates, the courtyard was like a small landscape unto itself. Including an artificial river (complete with bridges) and ornate gardens. Armed guards patrolled the property just like in Canterlot, only the sight of gold and black uniforms really seemed to make them stand out.
“Well. This is pleasant,” Grapes observed.
“I should hope so,” Golden said with a rather wry smile. “You would be surprised at just how many of our citizens are employed it its upkeep.”
“Sounds a bit like Canterlot,” Grapes observed, as they trotted across the courtyard. “Wonder how stuck-up your nobles are about it? Martial or not, there are bound to be somegriffs who are fond of looking down on the little griff.”
“Of course. What’s the point of having authority unless you have somegriff you can push around?” She paused to give a withering glance to a suddenly nervous gardener before continuing. “The best kind of ‘pushing around’ is done without words. Lets them work out on their own what they did wrong.”
Grapes rolled her eyes. “I’m sure. Just have to not let it go to your head, though. Authority can be as bad as any addictive substance.”
“Of course it is, Lady Grapes. That’s what makes it so… intoxicating.” Goldie paused and giggled. “But I usually prefer to operate with a clear head.”
“That’s very intelligent of you, your Grace,” Grapes asked, then smirked. “And, uh… ‘Lady’ Grapes?”
“An honorific that is easily enough applied to you, Sour Grapes. You have land, you have an honor guard or fairly well distinguished ponies and you carry with you the seal of your Princess who is trusting you to speak on her behalf. That means the title of ‘Lady’ is perhaps the least we can offer you that you would be comfortable with.”
“Okay. I guess that would make the nobles less antzy. A title means I’m a nob, and not some commoner,” Grapes said with a roll of her eyes. “They can be such sticklers.”
“Well here we are. The main gates to the palace, proper,” Goldie announced as Robin pulled them up close. “So does anyone need a little time to prepare? Hair and hooves all done? Wonderful. Follow the red carpet in and wait in the antechamber with the emperor’s personal secretary. She will usher you in at the right moment.”
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The doors did not swing open but rather rolled aside to reveal the long chamber that was without a doubt, the throne room of the Empire. One of the first things Sour Grapes noticed was that while Celestia had a habit of immortalising historical moments in stained glass, this monarch seemed to be infatuated with tapestries. Many “heroic” moments were displayed between the windows in full (and often gorey) color. Celestia’s throne room was white with pastels but the Emperor’s throne room was all absolutes. Black marble floors, bright red walls with golden filigree, a ceiling of midnight black with gold chandeliers hanging from them… and on a daïs at the far end… the grand throne of the emperor. It looked as if someone had hammered it from the broken weapons of his fallen enemies and then gilded it… then as an afterthought added a cushion or two for comfort. She actually had to blink and adjust her glasses because she could have SWORN there was a skull or two in that throne’s design.
To the left and the right of the long red carpet that led from the door to the throne were all manner of griffon courtiers, dignitaries and hangers-on. Each in finery that could have fed entire households for at least a month. She then looked ahead again to the ruler of this empire.
He was younger than she would have thought. Maybe middle-aged but he was certainly no ordinary griffon. She had assumed that all griffons were a basic lion with an eagle, but that generalisation proved false. Fluttershy had once given her a basic primer on the kinds of birds in Equestria and other nations and Emperor Farsight looked like his bird half was a Martial Eagle. A black head and beak with dark wings and a white speckled chest. The way his piercing green eyes stared out from the dark feathers it put her in mind of an executioner’s hood. His nether-half was unmistakably from a tiger: it was hard to really deny the white fur with black stripes its due.
He wore a simple militaristic jacket of black with silver adornments, but upon his head he wore an impressive crown which looked like a cross between a prince’s crown and a bejeweled circular saw blade. Beautiful and yet it belied the emperor’s willingness to snatch it from his own brow in an emergency and apply it with lethal effect. It was one final sobering reminder that she was not in Equestria anymore.
The guard at the doorway brought the butt of his spear loudly down twice on the cold black marble and spoke in a clear tone of decent yet not obnoxiously loud volume.
“Presenting Lady Sour Grapes of Equestria. Royal Winemaker to the Princess Celestia, Titled Landowner, Representative of the United Agricultural Growers of Equestria and First Minister of… ur... Snark.”
Sour Grapes had to blink at the last four words of her full title and utter quietly under her breath, “Really, Guaranty? Really?”
“Accompanied by her personal watch, the Royal Equestrian Rogue Storm Rapid Response Team, otherwise known colloquially as the ‘Storm-Riders’.
“Firestormer, master of the fiery tempests, recipient of the Equestrian Medal of Heroism and accompanied by his understudy Friendly Fire.
“Lady Ice Storm, royal heiress to the Duchy of Avalanche Valley and commander of winter winds.
“Sirocco, mistress of the scouring desert sands and certified public accountant.
“Stormfront, descendant of the Angel General Stormfront and tamer of tornados.
“Earshot, Celestia’s shadow, zero visibility specialist and Ambassador of Stygian Cove and the Night Pony Breed.
“Captain Summer Squall of Celestia’s Royal Navy. Formally ‘Swordless’ Squall the Pirate. Currently swashbuckler, seasoned brawler, perpetual student of life, habitual globetrotter, casual fortune-hunter and Immortal adventurer.”
There were quiet murmurs from the dignitaries present as they seemed to quietly-yet-excitedly discuss amongst themselves the ponies in their midst. It was a moment later the guard checked his list and spoke with a little less certainty.
“Also presenting Thistledown… Professional Tourist? ...One can be a professional tourist?”
“It’s all in how much trouble you get in when traveling, hot stuff,” Thistledown said to the guard, giving him a wink and a gentle nudge as he strode into the throne room as if he owned it. Grapes seemed a bit startled to see him at first, then shook her head, looking amused.
“He... followed us all the way from Equestria to Griffonia, and we kept him,” Grapes uttered with a slight smirk. “Seemed a safer thing to do, than to unleash him upon your innocent sidesaddle male population.”
“I shall make certain that the 181st legion is duly warned,” the Chamberlain said dryly.
Grapes looked at Thistle’s gleeful visage, then back at the Chamberlain. “That wasn’t so very smart of you. It really wasn’t.”
“We shall see, Lady Grapes. We shall see.”
The addition of Thistledown, the ‘“Professional Tourist” title seemed to relax the mood of the court very much. In truth, his Hawaiian shirt and tilley hat made him stand out in this formal setting as much as a drunken clog dancer at a ballet recital.
“Also presenting Robin the Red-Breasted, Air Commander of the Fourth Generation Phalanx of His Eternal Glory, Emperor Abattoir The Second, and Seasoned Warmancer of the Seventh Tier… retired in good standing. Also known as Robin the Undying…”
The guard halted a moment when Robin leant over and spoke softly to him. There was a momentary exchange between them before the guard nodded and turned back to the room.
“I beg your pardon. The good Air Commander prefers the title of ‘Robin the not-yet-dead’ over ‘Robin the Undying’.”
“Thank you,” the elderly griffon thanked the guard.
The Emperor made a motion for them to approach.
Grapes and the others approached with all due caution. Once within a few feet of the throne did he make a grand sweeping motion with one hand.
“I bid you all welcome to my glorious empire. Of all the countries that we have relations with, I am pleased by the relaxed state that Griffonia shares with Equestria. So, I insist that while you are here on your official business with the representatives of the Griffonian Merchant Guild that you and your entourage consider yourselves my guests. Rooms have been set aside for each of you within these walls.” He made a subtler “come hither” motion to Golden Wingspan who gracefully came over with an iron box the size of a large book. She opened it to reveal a series of small ribbon-necklaces, each bearing a blue-black metal medallion. “During your stay I insist you wear the official ‘Guest of the Emperor’ markers. While they will not exclude you from repercussions of any questionable actions as would true ‘diplomatic immunity’, they serve as a warning to the people of Griffonia, that any action on their bearers… will attract my very personal attention.”
The medallions were handed out to each of the ponies… save Thistledown but he got a smirk and a raised eyebrow from Golden Wingspan instead.
“You… are an unexpected quantity.” she said in an amused tone. “We’ll find something for you later.”
“He’s a tourist, Your Grace. True, he’s also an employee of mine, but I will be discussing his rather… sudden appearance with him, later,” Grapes observed looking bemusedly at Thistledown. “Also I appreciate the small protection these medallions offer. I am, however, glad to not have full diplomatic immunity. For one, I’m no diplomat. For another, it may, but I can not guarantee, keep my merry crew of miscreants out of trouble knowing that they’ll have to pay all fines and damages they may incur. Never mind having said fines and damages taken out of their pay packets.”
Emperor Farsight smirked ever so slightly before nodding to the Chamberlain.
“I leave our esteemed guests… and their tag-along in your capable talons, Royal Chamberlain.”
“So mote it be, Emperor,” Golden Wingspan said with a respectful bow before turning to the others. “Follow me and we shall get you and yours settled into your rooms… and the Tagalong.”
“Since he is a tourist, shouldn’t he find his own accommodations in the tourist district of the city?” Grapes asked with the most innocent look on her face.
“He has somehow arrived under his own mobility, slipped past some of the most secure defences in the nation and stood in the same room with what is arguably the most powerful griffon in the world…” Goldie said as she lead them out of the throne room. “I feel that I should do everything in my power to keep him where I can see him.”
“You make an excellent point. Thistle, how did you slip past the guards?” Grapes asked, eyeing her sidesaddle friend in his rather flamboyant garb.
“I dunno,” he admitted, snapping the occasional photo of the palace halls. “I saw you guys go on in, the doors were wide open so I figured that if I wasn’t supposed to go in there the guards would just stop me. I walked right between them and they just gave me a funny look but didn’t say a word.”
The procession came to a sudden stop as Golden Wingspan facepalmed.
“You were confident, obvious and eccentric. Of course you weren’t stopped… you acted as if you were supposed to be here,” she grumbled “I shall have to make some new protocols because of this.”
“So I guess we will have to keep him,” Grapes said amused as they continued to the “diplomatic” wing. “I presume, from your earlier statements, your 181st Legion is mostly or completely made up of sidesaddle, or in other words, homosexual, griffons?”
“Yes. Yes, it is,” she said starting up the procession again. “It’s a practical solution to socialisation issues between them and the ‘straight’ personnel.”
“Ah. You have intolerant sorts here, too, I see. Unsurprising. I imagine they would be considered, by some, abhorrent, and need to be--ahem--disposed of to quote ‘purify the bloodlines’ so to speak,” Grapes observed with a quiet sigh. “And griffons being a predator species, the quote ‘purification’ end quote would be a good deal more proactive.”
“I see them as an aberration, but just because I don’t really understand them is hardly a reason for me to go out of my way to persecute them,” Golden Wingspan said frankly. “They are not a drain on our resources nor are they deficient in their given tasks. They simply have an attraction to their own gender. It’s not as if they will pass this trait on to any offspring, so their existence is a non-issue that would result in a waste of energy and resources to… attack.”
“I honestly wish that some ponies had your practicality, your Grace,” Grapes observed with a roll of her eyes. “Some of the more… virulent opponents to their very existence do not see it as a waste of energy and resources, as long as they poison as many minds as possible. I tend to say that life is strange and love is even stranger. And while I prefer males I would not have minded a female companion should we have been compatible and had the ability to get along well.”
They came down a long hallway with a series of doors on the one side. Waiting attendants opened each one and held out keys to each of the ponies in turn.
“I trust that due to the megre needs of your team these quarters are more than satisfactory,” the Chamberlain said letting them enter. “We will be having a luncheon in a half hour. Your dietary needs have been observed and compensated for. Your current outfits will be adequate... save yours, Mister Tagalong. Please find something less… jarring to wear. Keep in mind this will be a private luncheon with you, the Emperor and a few other visiting officials. He is looking forwards to meeting ‘working class’ ponies such as yourself and your entourage.”
“You heard the lady, Thistledown,” Grapes said looking amused. “Also the quarters are… very impressive. I’d even say palatial.”
“Good. If you need anything simply show your marker to a servant and they’ll be happy to arrange anything reasonable. See you for luncheon,” replied Golden Wingspan before she left for other parts of the palace.
“Very well. Alright, ladies and gentlecolts, quick luggage check, and toiletry settlement, before we make our way back. And, Thistle, please change into something less tacky chic,” Grapes suggested, before going into her room to take care of her own toiletries.
“Oh… all right.” Thistledown said, sounding well-chided. “But only because you asked so nicely.”
Entering her room Grapes glanced around. It was large. She was more used to closeness in quarters. This was apparently meant to house visitors who would be a variety of sizes but to her, she felt the high ceiling with the draped silks was a little much. She noticed the area by the entrance was actual tile while the room had a hardwood floor. She was at first uncertain what that was about until she realised she was hearing a trickling of water nearby. To her right was washbasin as part of the wall complete with taps, toiletry shelf, and mirror. Beyond that was a door leading into a chamber with facilities best used in private such as a flushing commode and bathtub. She then looked for the source of the sound, and saw that between the door to the water closet and the sink, there was a depression in the floor. A ceramic basin only a few inches deep but fairly wide. In it water swirled from unseen jets and down a small drain. She was unsure about it’s purpose (as the toilet was in the next area) when she heard a soft cough from behind her.
“T’is a hoof-basin, lass.” Squall said from his position at the door.
“What’s the point of this contraption?” Grapes asked, looking at it.
“Well. Not every… one likes to walk right on into their living space with dirty feet. So…” he motioned with a hoof at a small towel rack at knee-level next to it. “Ye step into it, maybe scrub yer hooves with some soap or just let the warm water do it’s trick, then put one of them drying mats on the floor and shuffle them dry. Feels kind of nice to slip into bed with freshly washed hooves.”
“... So it’s a fancy welcome mat,” Grapes observed with a sigh. “Just to show off, a bit, but it does have a fairly practical use. Just seems a bit… over lavish.”
“That’s only because you haven’t walked around the city yet.” he smirked. “At least in pony towns they have privacy hedges and individuals paid to walk around the city with a shovel and a cart cleaning up any errant ‘daylights’ left on the road. Here… they’re not as organised… and griffons being part bird… well… Ye ever finish cleaning yer cart when a big bird passes by overhead?”
“Oh, good heavens,” Grapes uttered, shuddering. “I get the idea.”
“Well there IS a reason they call Main Street the ‘Great White Way’, and it’s NOT because of the lighting.”
“Wonderful,” Grapes observed with a roll of her eyes. “Anyway, I don’t know if we’re going to be escorted or if we’re going to be tested on our senses of direction.”
“Hard to say, lass.” Squall looked around the room. “This is an improvement from the last time I was here. Me last room was by the docks and was a step-up from a flophouse. Course most sailors don’t care about the condition of the room they’re sleepin’ in. Just that the door locks so you don’t get rolled while yer three sheets to the wind.”
Grapes nodded. “Makes sense. Now… Let’s hope we things don’t get too complicated.”
“Aye. Good thing we don’t have to dress up too much. I left me dress uniform back home, though knowing the Vizier, the scoundrel has probably sent it on ahead without me knowing.”
“It would be something Guaranty would do,” Grapes said looking amused. “After all, we may have to go to some kind of grand ball, for all we know. Anyhow, I hope we can get through this, and head home within a reasonable amount of time.”
“Really? Forgot yer camera and Hawaiian shirt then? No tourist time for Miss Grapes?”
“We’re here on business, Squall. Sure it’s nice to see someplace different, but I’ve still got this business hanging over my head… I guess we could do some sight-seeing later… Maybe it’s just being tired from all the traveling,” Grapes observed with a sigh.
“Fair enough. I’m curious if any of the bars I used to frequent are still here…” He turned to leave. “I’m gonna grab a short nap before lunch. Be a dear and knock on the door, will ya?”
“Sure thing. I’m going to set up my toiletries,” Grapes said nodding.
Closing the door behind him, Squall let himself out and left Grapes to her own devices. She moved across the heated floor to the massive bed and flopped back on it… and into it. It was so soft that she sank down into it like a huge cloud. It felt sinfully decadent. She stared up at the great sky blue ceiling and squinted at the shutters on every window. They looked like they were steel painted to look like delicate porcelain, which made sense. The palace did seem a lot like a military fortification in formal wear. She also noticed each shutter had a crank handle attached to it, no doubt such things required a level of practicality, and no one wanted to be unable to open a window on a hot day. Grapes swam out of the bed, not wanting to accidently fall asleep and miss the luncheon. She also had things to do before that time.
Such a soft bed would be fairly practical for creatures who were born with wings, Grapes mused as she set up her tooth powder and toothbrush, and assorted other things she had brought from home. After all, it would be supportive, and not crush the wings under the body. It’s probably why pegasai slept on clouds.
“Hey, Queenie!” came Firestormer’s voice through a wall, once they were settled in. “Check it out… A place for my stuff!”
“Will you EVER grow tired of referencing that comic’s routine, Firestormer?”
“Nope.”
“Well then, all MY dross is stuff and all YOUR stuff is dross.”
“You have learned well.”
Grapes leaned her forehead against the bedpost and giggled. Even here, on a serious mission in the heart of a nation filled with carnivorous beings who were proud of a militant heritage the Storm Riders were relaxed and joking. She privately hoped one day she would learn that skill from them. For now she would simply have to rely on her impressive snark-making skills… which reminded her of something. She went to where she had laid out her stationary set and began to write a note to Impertinence indicating her arrival, the first meeting with the royals and… a detail or two she wished to elaborate on.
Dear Impertanance,
I thought I’d let you know that we have arrived safely, and have settled into the Royal Palace of Griffonia. We met, briefly, with the Emperor, before we were sent to our rooms to put up our stuff. We were introduced at court, which had quite a surprise for me in the title department. Mind you, I’m sure most of it is Guaranty’s fault. Most of it.
She took a moment to collect her thoughts. She knew it had to be Guaranty who came up with her unique title, but she found it hard to believe that Impertinence was ignorant of it being included alongside of “Royal Winemaker”. She was just too.. professional to simply NOT notice such a detail, therefore it was most likely a willful act of… well, “vengance” was too hard a word, maybe just a sharp jab back at her being immune to her position and higher-than-thou attitude, made more sense.
Somehow I simply can’t believe this slipped beneath your notice. You’re too much the consummate professional. So, in return and as a slight jab at Guaranty, I thought I should share a wonderful detail that I am aware of that you have let slip your notice. Guaranty is madly in love with you. However, his wooing ability has not progressed beyond schoolyard teasing. You know, pulling the pigtails of the girl he likes? Anyway, I thought I should let you know about this, along with our safe arrival at Griffon City.
If you decide to go on a date with Guaranty, do let me know how it goes. I’m sure it’ll be better than you think.
Sincerely yours,
Sour Grapes
Royal Winemaker to the Diarchy
First Minister of Snark
She had just sealed the envelope with the Equestrian seal of the two sisters she was carrying when there was a knock at the door. She could see the silhouette of one of the guards through the frosted glass in it.
“Lady Sour Grapes. I have been instructed to guide you and your entourage to the dining hall.”
“Oh. Thank you,” Grapes said coming out of her room. “Where would I find a post office?”
“Ah. You have a missive?” asked the young Griffon Guard.
“Yes. I was sending reports back to the personal assistant to Princess Celestia, letting her know that I’m alright, have arrived safely. That sort of thing,” Grapes observed with a smirk.
“Understood. We have messengers on staff who will run such things to the postal office for visiting dignitaries such as yourselves. I will inform them that you wish to have your missive delivered and they will approach you after the luncheon for it.”
“Thanks for the information,” Grapes said with a nod, putting the letter in her room. “Now let’s see about getting everybody.”
One by one doors were knocked upon and their occupants stepped forth, polished, preened and looking rather sharp in their vests and scarfs. Once gathered, the guard led them through a series of corridors to a long room with an equally long table. Grapes glanced at the place settings and was grateful there was a minimum of cutlery. More than a fork a knife and a spoon made her feel anxious. She was equally grateful there were names on little cards on the backs of each chair, indicating who sat where. She was uncertain what the protocol was for seating at such events, after all wars were often started because the wrong minister sat next to the wrong muckety-muck.
Grapes sat down, looking around at the other people. She was guessing that this was as small as a formal luncheon got with the Emperor. Just him, her, her entourage and a dozen other griffons in various uniforms and outfits. She felt some comfort in the presence of Summer Squall next to her, and that Earshot was on the other side of the table where she could keep an eye on him… However across from Squall and next to Earshot was a well weathered Griffon in what to her looked like a naval uniform. She could be wrong, but it did remind her of something you could wear when captaining a vessel. He looked at Squall out from underneath a pair of eyebrows that you could hide a family of four in and he chortled.
“Captain Summer Squall, I presume,” he said in a thick gravelly tone.
“Aye. That’s me… my name sir. And you would be Admiral…?”
“Gator. Admiral Gator. I never thought I would ever get a chance to meet you, sir.”
“Gator?” Squall asked, smirking as something dawned on him. “As in the Gator-Freighter?”
“One and the same, Captain Squall.”
“Sour Grapes, do you realise who that is?” Squall asked, happily motioning to the Admiral. “This here is Admiral Gator, he dragged amphibious warfare with the griffon navy into the modern times. Before him, the general consensus of the officers was that they didn’t give a fiddler’s pluck about the marines. Just kicked their tails into a rowboat, washing their hands of their well being.”
“Really? That sounds like a very interesting bit of history,” Grapes said sounding fascinated.
“Well, I was inspired by the fact my own brother was a marine and he often complained that the officers only cared about what went on at sea and not on the land.” Admiral Gator admitted. “So I swore to do my best to make sure that the marines would at least get to where they were needed. Which, strangely enough, turned me into an immortal.”
“Aye. He was so famed for delivering marines to their targets safely that nearly all of them kept requesting to be delivered upon the ‘Gator-Freighter’. When the higher-ups noticed this high standard he set down, they changed naval policy to make many of his ideas specs. Of course by then the name ‘Gator-Freighter’ had caught on, and any vessel that the marines traveled on became known as just that…”
“And so, I live on forever.” the Admiral beamed. “Although I must admit that I wish you and I meeting like this had have happened when you and I were in our prime, Captain… or maybe twenty years ago at the worst.”
“Aye. I know what you mean, Admiral.” Squall nodded. “We could still get into a fight now but it wouldn’t quite be as fun as it once was… and I believe it may be rude to swap swordplay in the middle of the entree.”
“Not until between courses, at least. You and the good Admiral could be the entertainment,” Grapes quipped casually.
The two old warhorses both stroked their chins thoughtfully for a moment as if genuinely considering a mid-meal duel. Fortunately Grapes wasn’t so naïve to believe they were going to go through with it. A gentle-sounding gong was sounded and the Griffons all rose to their feet. Taking the cue, Sour Grapes and the other ponies did the same. The Emperor entered from somewhere beyond the head of the table and took his place. He glanced to the left and the right before his eyes came to an empty chair that sat right next to his. They lingered there a moment, eventually lifting away and back to his guests.
“The Princess appears to be tardy tonight. We shall not wait on her,” he spoke in a tone as flat and hard as a slab of lead. “Please be seated.”
“There’s a princess?” Grapes murmured in sotto voice, with raised eyebrow.
“Oh. Oh yes. Yes there is.” Farsight acknowledged, as trolleys of food were brought out on either side of the table. “My daughter Princess Gail, is my heir to the throne, the light of my life and almost always late to important functions. It happens enough that the protocol for this event is simply to begin without her. So please… by all means eat and enjoy. I understand that the chef is apparently overjoyed with preparing meals for herbivorous dignitaries.”
Bowls of hot brown liquid were placed in front of the pony delegation and the delicious odor wafted up to tickle Sour Grapes’ nostrils and make her mouth water. She knew barley soup when she smelled it, and this was like the most amazing smelling barley soul she could imagine.
She glanced around at everyone at the table who was watching the Emperor. He had a bowl of soup of his own, red in color but soup none-the-less. He dipped his spoon, lifted it to his beak and had the first sip. It was only when he swallowed and nodded his approval did everyone else try their own. An interesting tradition, it seemed that at a formal diner, the Emperor got the first taste.
Grapes mentally shrugged. She had never been at a formal dinner with Princess Celestia, so she didn’t know if this was the norm, but she knew better than to question the traditions of a country of predators. She simply levitated her spoon, and took a cautious taste of her soup.
She didn’t know who the chef was but the barley soup put even her mother’s to shame. There was a wholesomeness to it that carried many other flavors on it’s back. She took a moment to force herself to savor the first spoonful before going onto the next.
The first course was uneventful, the various griffons at the table making light conversation on various topics. Sour Grapes listened in politely, taking advantage of this moment to pick up what she could of the climate around the city and empire. When the topic turned to the weather the Storm Riders were more than happy to discuss how pegasai dealt with it, as opposed to the more “let it happen unless it starts to get bad” methods of the Empire. It seemed that they had no official “weather bureau”. Instead they had self-employed wizardly specialists who got involved when things got hairy.
When the bowls were emptied and taken away, the next course was brought in. She noticed that again she and the ponies got an obviously vegetarian dish, in this case an expertly cooked meal of small boiled red potatoes in butter, sauteed portabella mushrooms with what appeared to her to be a sizable slice of vegetarian lasagna as the centrepiece… All served on a woven bed of what could be kelp. A quick glance at the others at the table seemed to indicate that their meals were nearly identical. Potatoes, mushrooms, kelp were all there. However each had a meat of some manner in place of the lasagna. Seafood dominated the substitution and while it was odd to see it, she observed with interest in the variety available.
The Admiral himself had a great red… creature on his plate. Something with beady black eyes, legs and a pair of pincer-like claws. She noted Earshot staring at the item with the interest of one so young. The Admiral was quick to notice the colt’s awe.
“Ah. Bet you haven’t seen anything quite like this, have you young one?”
“No, sir,” Earshot admitted.
“It looks like an oversized crayfish,” Grape observed.
“The lady has a good eye on her,” Gator noted before tapping his dinner’s head with the tip of a claw. “This delicacy is known as a lobster, and they are indeed related to the crayfish. They have a surprisingly hard shell but well worth the effort to get at what is within… not to upset herbivorous sensibilities of course.”
“Wow,” Earshot said, fascinated. “Is it really that good?”
“Well… They’re quite delicious to many Griffons who can afford it. I’m not sure how I would describe the taste to a pony though.”
“Oh. So where could I buy one so I can try it?”
There was a small rustle of polite laughter from the griffons as their attention was now on the little exchange. The Admiral smiled and shook his head.
“I could tell you of a place on the docks but uh… it would be irresponsible of me to let a pony make themselves sick eating meat.”
“I don’t mind. I like meat.”
The room got very quiet.
“Perhaps I wasn’t being clear, little one. This is, or rather WAS a living creature. Pony bodies don’t have the right bits to digest stuff like this without you getting very, very sick.”
“But I don’t get sick from eating meat,” Earshot said, sounding confused. “Doctor Coldhoof says that I have ‘the most fascinating gut florals’ that he has ever seen in a pony.”
“Flora, Earshot, but I’m not sure that Doctor Coldhoof was using the correct word for microbes, considering flora refers to plants, I thought,” Grapes said with a shrug. “As for Earshot, he has the ability to digest more in the way of protein that most ponies, he being of a more nocturnal nature than the rest of us.”
Earshot self-consciously pulled his goggles off, letting them dangle around his neck so that everyone at the table could see his wide golden cat-eyes. He then mustered a smile, showing off his combination of herbivorous teeth and the impressive fangs that gave him an advantage to consuming meat. There were soft gasps and quiet discussion between the griffons before the Admiral, furrowing his brow for a moment then took ahold of one pincer and with a loud crunch, wrenched it free from its owner and placed it on Earshot’s plate.
“If you’d be so kind as to crack the shell a bit for him, to lessen any mess that Earshot’s attempts would make, good Admiral, I’d appreciate it,” Grapes requested politely. “The last thing we need is our young guest making a spectacle out of himself, he already being a curiosity.”
“Oh yes. Of course.” The Admiral agreed, pulling out a pincer-like steel tool that reminded her of a bare-bones nutcracker, and cracked open the bright red claw for Earshot. “This… should prove quite interesting.”
“Thank you, sir, you are a gentlegriff as well as an officer,” Grapes said, as she ate her own meal with the utmost decorum.
She watched the faces of the Griffons as Earshot tried the Lobster, he didn’t just gobble it but nibbled a little to try the taste. Then at the Admiral’s advice, dipped pieces into melted butter before tasting them again and finding them delicious. Sour Grapes felt a little guilty, she didn’t want Earshot to be stared at like some oddity, and yet while there was astonishment there was no accusing glares, no disgust or harsh judgement from the griffons. They were just fascinated, as if they had seen one of their own, in a different shape.
“It’s… good,” Earshot proclaimed, and popped another piece of the butter-dipped white meat into his mouth. “This is really nice.”
A tall griffon female across from Queenie leaned forward enough to address Earshot.
“Pardon me, Ambassador Earshot?” Grapes was surprised anyone remembered that when they were introduced in the throne room that Earshot was declared an ambassador to Stygian Cove and his kin. “Have you ever tasted calamari?”
“No. No I have not.” he admitted. Almost instantly the lady placed something onto her teacup saucer that looked… ‘tentacle-ly’, and got a servant to take it to Earshot.
“Then by all means, try some of mine. Trust me when say that you are in for a treat.”
This curious exchange continued through the meal. One by one, the other dignitaries around the table inquired Earshot if he had ever had eaten what they had in their own plates, and if he answered no, they surrendered a portion for his experimentation.
It was during the third and final course that the doors behind the Emperor opened and the sound of light footfalls came. Grapes at first could not see who it was until a small crown-like item appeared at table-level next to the Emperor. He did not look at its wearer but simply addressed it.
“Princess Gail. How kind of you to finally grace us with your presence, and just in time for the dessert to be served. How fortuitous.”
“Father, please,” spoke a voice that had far more dignity in it that should be rationed out to a foal.. Or would that be fledgling here? “A princess may arrive fashionably late, provided that she does not miss the event entirely. I hope I did not keep you or our guests waiting long.”
“Well, my dear princess, I believe you have went beyond ‘fashionably’ late, which is usually ten to fifteen minutes after the event has started; to being truly late. I have an acquaintance who is well aware of the decorum of fashionable lateness, and she did teach me about this,” Grapes said with just as much dignity as the princess displayed. “However I do agree with your father about your showing up just in time for dessert. It is obvious that you, like many a youngster, is using an excuse to not eat the icky vegetables. And for that I would not be surprised that your father decided to send you to bed without dinner.”
The little crown and the ivory brow it sat upon rose upwards over the lip of the table, revealing the death-glare of a fledgling female with “classic” griffon looks and coloring. She looked like she was about to make some manner of statement involving heads and a tumbling locomotion of said cranium when the Emperor tilted his head back and chortled.
“Well spoken, Equestrian First Minister of Snark. I now see why Princess Celestia has bestowed such a position upon you. May I introduce you to my daughter, Princess Gail. Gail, kindly greet the good Minister Sour Grapes, would you?”
Princess Gail cast a sideways grump to her father before moving around to the side of the table where she could see Sour Grapes in person and give a surprisingly dignified bow. Grapes looked her over. Rather than any kind of dress, she wore an indigo uniform jacket with a high collar and white piping and buttons. It reminded her of her father’s own dress uniform jacket but without all the pomp and circumstance.
“Greetings to you, Sour Grapes, Equestrian First Minister of Snark. I am Princess Gail, daughter of Emperor Farsight and I am very... honored to make your acquaintance.”
“It’s my pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, Princess Gail,” Grapes said getting up, and bowing to Gail in return. “I do hope I haven’t gotten off on the wrong hoof, to use a pony idiom, with you.”
“I have never met a pony in person before,” she admitted, peering up at her with narrowed eyes. “You’re… bigger than I suspected.”
“Well, we do come in quite a few sizes, and we do start off small and get bigger, just like griffons,” Grapes said with a kind smile, and offering her a hoof to shake.
Gail reached out, and her claws encircled the hoof in a surprisingly strong grip. It was like a well-practiced ritual the way she shook the appendage, once, twice and a third time before releasing. Grapes recognised etiquette training when it happened to her.
“You missed quite an interesting dinner course, your highness. My young companion, here, got to try a variety of seafoods he hasn’t had the opportunity to, before,” Grapes said, indicating Earshot. “Never mind the outstanding vegetarian lasagna. However I have to suspect you have already acquired nourishment, elsewhere, that would be more to your taste, and have only brought your sweet tooth, so to speak, to this luncheon.” The last was said with a cheerful smile, and a twinkle in Grapes’ eye that let the princess know she was gently teasing. “Also it would not be advisable to get huffy with me, your highness. I am the Minister of Snark. Being snarky is part of my job description, and puncturing egos is a speciality of mine. Right now, I’m merely teasing a young lady that may or may not become a new friend.” With that Grapes bowed again, and sat down.
“I… may have had a light, early lunch with some classmates,” she admitted cautiously. “And so was in no great hurry to return to the palace. You… speak rather directly. I am not accustomed to that from visiting dignitaries.”
“Yes. Yes I do. I’m well-known for being rather blunt, and quite brutally honest,” Grapes replied. “You also seem to be quite the intelligent young woman, so I speak to you as such. I’m sure you’ve had enough dignitaries to casually talk down to you as if you’re younger than your actual age. I’m sure you’ve found it to be incredibly annoying.”
“Yes. I have,” The Princess agreed before her eye caught something. She craned her head up enough to look over at where Earshot sat. Bright green eyes locked on him as he nibbled away at the contents of his plate. “Father… why is that pony eating a tentacle? It was my understanding that their stomachs were too weak to handle flesh.”
“That is Earshot. He’s a Night Pony who’s never had squid tentacle before,” Grapes explained. “And his kind has… become quite an interesting variant of pegasus, being mostly nocturnal, and somewhat bat-like.”
The Emperor cleared his throat and nodded to Earshot. “Young Ambassador. Would you be so kind as to… make your nature more obvious to my daughter?”
Earshot blinked, then chewed and swallowed his mouthful of squid before opening his mouth to display his teeth, and extending his wings to show off their leathery nature. The princess quietly circled the table to where he sat. She moved to his left, then the right, getting a good look at him there in his Storm Rider uniform before looking back at her father.
“Father. I want to take the Night Pony to school for show and tell.”
Grapes, shocked at the brazenness of the princess’ demand, was about to interject when the Emperor beat her to it.
“You ask much of me, Daughter. It would be far easier for you to ask the young Ambassador of Stygian Cove, yourself,” Farsight replied, steepling his talons.
Princess Gail turned to Earshot and seemed uncertain for a brief moment before giving a sigh and curtseying to him. “AMBASSADOR Night Pony colt. Can I take you for show-and-tell at my school?”
“May I,” corrected the Emperor before adding “And Please.”
“MAY I PLEASE take you for show and tell at my school? I doubt that they’ve ever seen a living ‘Night Pony’ before.”
Earshot stared at her a moment before glancing over at Grapes as if asking what to do. Sour Grapes merely shrugged and made a motion with her hoof as if to say, “What are you asking ME for? YOU’RE the Night Pony Ambassador.” He looked back at the princess and smiled a big toothy grin to her.
“If you can promise me that I’ll be there as much as a student as a… curiosity, then Yes. Yes I would be happy to.” He then said in a quieter tone, “I’ve never been to a griffin school before. I’m wondering how different it is from a Daylight Pony school.”
“Oh… oh then you are in for a treat, Ambassador… uh… can I call you by a real name. It feels kinda... dumb talking to another kid by a title.”
“Sure. My name’s Earshot. Can I use yours too, Princess?”
“Fine. You can call me Gail but only when we’re not around the servants.”
“Are the servants sticklers for propriety?” Grapes asked with a raised eyebrow. Then she allowed a little disdain to enter into her voice. “Or is it you have a reputation to maintain?”
“With servants one must be friendly but never familiar,” the little griffin said with an attempted “adult tone” that was more adorable on her than authoritative, “As the current Royalty we have standards to uphold. Come, Ambassador Earshot. I shall have you equipped with what you will need for a day at Griffin School.”
“You could at least let the poor colt have his dessert,” Grapes quipped with an amused tone. “Or are you too full of seafood to even have any, kiddo?”
“I don’t know. What is for dessert?” Earshot asked.
The trolley came out one final time, this time with an assortment of bowls filled with brightly colored crystalline cubes that wobbled about. Grapes smiled and recognised fruit-flavored gelatin when she saw it. Apparently Earshot did as well.
“OH! Gelatin! There’s ALWAYS room for gelatin!” Earshot said happily, causing some of the griffons to laugh in response to his enthusiasm. Even Gail seemed to rethink her own plans.
“Gelatin…” Gail said, smacking her beak in anticipation. “I suppose I can be patient. For the sake of dinner propriety of course.”
“And for the sake of delicious fruit flavored wobble-cubes,” Grapes added, teasingly.
“Yes… for the sake of the wobble-cubes too,” Gail muttered, caught in her own gluttony and returning to her father’s side where she took her seat. “I trust there are lime-flavored ones?”
A bowl of green gelatin was placed before her and her mood immediately improved. After dessert was savored all around the table and the conversations petered out somewhat, Farsight held up his hand to indicate he wanted everyone’s attention.
“Thank you everygriff, and everypony for a pleasant luncheon. Unfortunately the duties of the crown are many and my day is only half done, and so I must leave you to your own devices. Daughter, I trust you will explain to the Ambassador what he needs to know about his first time at a Griffon school.” Fasrsight looked over at Sour Grapes and nodded. “Lady Grapes. I look forward to seeing you and your entourage at breakfast tomorrow as my evening is already full. Please, by all means take advantage of your time here and do not hesitate to experience my nation as best you can. I leave you to the tender mercies of my High Chamberlain.”
Rising from his chair the Emperor bowed slightly at the neck and, performed a subtle flex of his muscles under his uniform to loosen them up.
“Until we meet again, a good afternoon to you all,” Farsight concluded
“Have fun storming the castle,” Grapes said with a small smile.
“Think it will work?” Golden Wingspan asked quietly as she appeared next to Grapes..
“It’ll take a miracle,” Grapes replied with a smirk, amusement obvious in her eyes.
Griffonia’s High Chamberlain and the Equestria’s First Minister of Snark exchanged a knowing glance from the brief reference to a surprising common interest. The Storm Riders smiled knowingly, recognising the in-joke. The other dignitaries… just felt lost and confused.
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Veggie gelatin, I hope ;)
7238883 I assume so as well.. Then again how many people know the history of Gelatin before Jello made it easy to make and popular
Yay for finally updating!
I really missed this story.
Anyway, amazing chapter, as always :3 I can't wait for the next one!
This and the next few chapters are going to be interesting to write.
I hope that Kitty and I won't be bogging the story down with trying to share our vision of the great Griffon Empire and it's citizens with all of you.
Oh... speaking of which I've been holding onto this until this chapter was written... an illustration of Emperor Farsight himself.
http://ryusukanku.deviantart.com/art/Emperor-Farsight-579553895
It lives!!!!! Yeah. This was awesome. I love all the references and Earshot pigging out on sea food.
7240950 hope not look forward to seeing more
This story really should have more up-votes going for it with how good it is. Just finished another read-through out of boredom. Still wondering when interactions between Earshot and Luna will be happening though.