> EaW: A Republican Chick's War Chronicles
>  by CheshireTwilight
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> 1 - The Fate of a Salaryman
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was not a truly exceptional individual by most statistical measures.

He was dedicated, but lacked the genius to make connections to things he had not been explicitly taught. He was curious and great at memorization, but unfocused and unsociable, often slipping into an internal dialog and missing important social cues. He struggled to come to terms with the world around him throughout his childhood and found himself floundering in every aspect of his life. It seemed he was destined to be one of those citizens who “did not quite make it” in life, if put generously. A new statistic among the tax moochers and criminals who were a burden on the normal people of society. It was in this way that he found himself reading every scrap of non-fictional information he could find, desperate to find his place among the successful.

Then he found it, hidden deep in an Economic Textbook he struggled to memorize, he had found his chance at redemption.

The Chicago School of Macroeconomics.

Of course, it was not the topic itself that was of true importance – although it was very interesting – rather it was that the topic catalyzed his understanding of the world. Society, he found, was underpinned by a set of solid, foundational rules through which it functioned. It laid out a path such that even a mediocre talent like himself could become successful.

‘How has no one told me about this?! Be kind to others? Respect your parents? How can someone go through life with such vague guidelines?! Is it not better that the world is shaped by a clear and easy-to-understand structure? Society has worked hard to construct this rational and logical framework. Why is it ignored? It is a travesty of the highest order!’

It was here that he soon delved into the world of economics and psychology. The Social Contract made it clear that everyone was bound not just by the legal rules, but numerous social ones as well. Likewise, Signaling Theory showed that so long as one exuded the proper auditory and visual responses expected of one in their current role, everyone would treat them like they fit that role. He laments those like him who struggled with this before the advent of the Internet. With the near infinite knowledge of the world at his fingertips, he needed only to memorize the expectations of himself for the various situations he could reasonably find himself in. There were numerous scientific and qualitative studies on all manner of situations: what one expects of a candidate in an interview, conversational topics to bring up with your boss at a party or casual conversation with coworkers by the water cooler.

Of course, he was no robot. He had feelings and opinions of his own about how he would prefer the world to work, but the world was good enough to him that he had no concern in keeping those thoughts to himself. He felt no more hypocritical than the average human; at least he was aware of the hypocrisy. So long as he kept his head down and focused on his path to the top, he was free in every sense that mattered. After all, being able to do and say whatever you wanted was just another name for Anarchy, and no sane individual wanted that. By the principles of Liberalism, it was better to sacrifice a few unimportant freedoms in order to maximize the rights of all members of society. The people who would refuse to let go of their “freedom to kill” in order to gain the “right to not being killed” were not worth keeping among the population.

By the time he had graduated, no one could doubt that he signaled the role of the ideal job candidate; someone with a degree in a sought-after field that would do exactly what was expected when it was expected.





February 22nd, 2013 – Corporate Head Office, Tokyo, Japan – Salaryman POV

In a modern glass skyscraper in downtown Tokyo, he sat working at his desk. His office was pristine; containing everything one would be expected of an ideal Salaryman. Numerous awards he had received for his exceptional loyalty and service to the company lined his desk, employee manuals and training material covered his shelves and his college degree hung proudly behind his head. No matter if they were the receptionist or the CEO, to any rational person employed at his company it was a room which commanded respect.

An Employee entered his office with a face full of anger and slammed the door behind him. It appeared that an exception towards the respect he usually received was going to be made today. He let his right eye twitch in annoyance but remained professional.

He pointed to the seat across from his desk.

“Have a seat.”

The Employee quickly took a seat but also took the request as an invitation to begin a rambling diatribe.

“What the hell is going on here?! I have been an employee of this company for over 5 years and this is the thanks I get?! My wife is in the hospital and you people think you have the right to demand I work though that?! She could damn well be dead right now while we're having this conversation! The only reason I am even here is because HR sent me an email saying I'm going to be fired! I demand an explanation!”

Throughout the cobbled together sentences, the Salaryman could only focus on the spittle from the man’s mouth fall on the edge of his desk. It took more willpower than he expected to not fire the man right there.

‘I can see now why HR recommended this to me. What a worthless case. If this employee had any sense, he would be dropping into Dogeza and begging me to let him keep his job. Doesn't he know that one bad reference in this industry is enough to permanently remove any chance of promotion?’

However, there were rules for this situation that he had to abide by. It would do no one any good if this man found some way to involve the company in a lawsuit. With a brief sigh, the Salaryman straightened up and faced the Employee with a neutral, professional expression.

“It is unfortunate that this tragic event has affected you so strongly, but this company works under a set of regulations you agreed to when we hired you. Over the past year, you have already used your paid leave and unpaid leave and yet you continue to be absent from work. The company has a generous bereavement plan for circumstances just like yours, but you must provide regular updates with your supervisor and it requires that you to work at least half of every month. You-”

The Employee got up from the chair and slammed a hand on the desk.

“How many times do I have to go through this with you people?! That paid leave was for a vacation before my wife's health took a turn for the worse. Because of the shitty pay and insurance I get with this crappy company, I can barely cover the hospital bills but I can take out loans as long as I have this job. I need to be there for my wife, can't you understand that?!”

While he could strain his mental faculties to try to find something to sympathize with the Employee, he found nothing.

‘There is a famous quote which says “Compromise is the best and cheapest lawyer.” That the Employee is unsatisfied with his circumstances is only natural. I have issues and grievances in my life too, you know, like hearing you yell at me! But I know better than to air my dirty laundry and risk my job for it. How ironic that he is the only one in the company that can’t see where this line of inquiry is heading. The fact that this is coming to my desk at all is proof that he’s gone too far.’

He did not give voice to these opinions and instead spoke out in an even tone.

“You're going through a hard time, I understand that, but you need to come back into work. You are not being paid for when you’re absent and it this is going to affect your future prospects. You only need to come in every other day-"

The Employee looked like he was going to pull his hair out. The man clenched a fist at him with a face going incandescent with rage.

“You- you bastard! Is this how it is going to be?! I worked tirelessly for this company! I’ve earned at least this much!”

For the first time in the meeting, he showed a non-professional emotion. Rubbing his eyes, he could feel a headache starting to come on. Reluctantly, he felt that there was no way to salvage the situation. He let the polite fiction of the professional social contract drop and unveil the cold, hard facts as it stood.

“I do not see how you are going to achieve what you want with this. This company is not going to entertain your specific needs. HR has pushed this to me because of your belligerence, and I can only bring this up with your VP in Accounting. What do you think they will say? They will tell me to do my job and fire you. It is because of your history here that this has not already happened. We have no strong need for employee retention at the moment, so I just can’t see how we can accommodate you. Please give up before you do something you'll regret.”

The Employee seemed to take this as an invitation and got up from the chair, kicking it over.

“I'm not going to let this company boss me around!"

Not getting up from his desk, the Salaryman sighed.

‘I think that should do it. No one can complain to me that I didn’t try.’

"Then I have no choice. You're fired. Collect your things from your desk. Your manager might-"

The Salaryman stopped as he looked up. The Employee looked like he was going to throw a punch and so he leaned back in his seat, unsure what to do. Luckily, it seemed the man still had some sense left and stormed out of the office.

The Salaryman sighed and quickly opened a new email. He would make sure that he had a sufficient paper trail detailing the specifics of the case. He made sure that there would be no legal consequences either for the company or himself, but that did not mean he was happy with the result. Such cases always disappointed him and he could only confess his confusion.

“What an utter waste of Human Resources…”





March 14th, 2013 – Downtown, Tokyo, Japan – Salaryman POV

It had been just over two weeks since that last awful interaction with the Former Employee.

While it always felt like a waste of time to manage such troublesome cases, there was nothing for it. Every society had its outliers and often it was too difficult to correct for every little mistake others made. The Sunk Cost Fallacy established that not quickly moving on from a mistake was often far worse than the original mistake. And so regardless of the time and effort in recruiting and training a replacement, it was the right thing to do. He had to rely that while the company stock would have plenty of dips, it was ever increasing. With that optimistic outlook, he carried on with business as usual. The only exception to the wonderfully ordinary routine was when his Supervisor came by to tell him to “watch his back”.

He could not understand what there was to worry about. The Former Employee had obvious issues with authority and was prone to emotional outburst, but there were doubtless many more people to blame than himself. He was reminded of the many bullies in his elementary school days with similar traits and wondered how many of them grew out of their proclivities in adolescence. While logically he knew that even ordinary people could turn to crime, statistics laid bare the fact that the world has never been a safer place. It would be paranoid to the highest degree – and even a bit arrogant – to think he was significant enough to fall into the statistic of “victim of violent crime”.

He was vindicated as more days passed.

So he found himself leaving the company in high spirits after a long day at work. With a confident stride and serious expression befitting , he waded though the dense crowds of a Tokyo train station on his way home. The Former Employee no longer entered his mind when he found himself flung off the station's platform and hurtling towards an oncoming train.

"What?"

It was all he could say, the shock robbing him of his last words being something more profound. Instinct had him raise his arms in a futile effort to protect himself from the multi-ton machine signaling his inevitable demise. Falling through the air, he was turned around just in time to see the Former Employee with his arms outstretched. Time seemed to slow as he realized he was about to die. In a moment of stark clarity only granted to those about to die, he could not help but think.

'I guess my boss was right about him.'

A male voice called out to him.

"My, my, what a predicament you find yourself in."

A second went by and he was still alive. He realized that — despite all logical or rational scientific explanation to contrary — he appeared to find himself and the world around him still completely frozen in time. Only his mind and eyes seemed to function. He looked to his right and towards the source of the voice.

Suddenly a monster walked across the platform he had just found himself unceremoniously thrown from and floated above the crowd of people. "Monster" was the only word fitting for the creature. Like a "Yokai" or "Shinigami" out of ancient Japanese Folklore it was an amalgamation of creatures in a horrific fusion that would make any horror movie's prop department proud.

The thing frowned at him, smoothing back the bristly mane of its deformed goat-like face with an eagle's claw that appeared haphazardly stuck onto the end of one of its limbs.

"I take offense to that! I will have you know that looking this good isn't easy. This world's "reality" just does horrible things to my complexion."

The being's non-sequitur was so strange that the Salaryman could not help but stop to rationalize the situation. While he was no genius, he had read plenty of fiction in his youth. It did not take him more than a minute to figure out what was going on, despite the obvious insanity of the situation.

'So am I to believe that you were the one that stopped time? That you can hear my thoughts without me being able to open my mouth? Am I to thank you for stopping my death?'

The thing appeared to smile bashfully, it's grey, bulbous face flushing red as it fluttered its long eyelashes at him.

"No need for thanks. No really, don’t. I am getting something out of this after all."

With a snap of its talon, clothes materialized on the creature. It was now wearing a three-piece suit and holding a Thompson sub-machine gun in the lion-like paw of its right limb and wearing a comically large pompadour wig on its head. It then spoke in the sort of accent he would expect from a thug in a cheap yakuza film.

"Isn’t that not how these sorta deals go, punk? A little 'quid pro quo', a little 'you scratch my back, I'll scratch youse', ya dig? Here I am, saving that sorry hide of youse and ya gotta do a little somethin' in return. Ya feel me?"

The Salaryman rolled his eyes. The action caused him to glance into the headlight of the oncoming train to his left. He looked back to the creature with narrowed eyes.

'Stop it with these nonsense antics. What do you want? I don't appreciate being stuck in this farce of a situation any longer than necessary, Being X.'

His eyes widened at his own thoughts being edited from his mind.

The creature frowned, his clothing and props disappearing from his body.

"There will be none of that. My name is Discord, Lord of Chaos, and I will not have my good name sullied by an inferior appellation. As for what I want, well, I want you to live. Isn’t that nice of me?As you can see by your situation right now, things are not looking good, and I’m here to help."

The Salaryman tried to ignore Being X's Discord's wish to be named “properly”, if only out of pride, but his every thought was corrected as he thought otherwise. He quickly gave up and focused on the relevant point Discord brought up.

'Then why not fix it? I am unsure what sort of extraordinary phenomenon is occurring at the moment, but you seem to have abilities that defy common sense. Can you not simply... move me back onto the platform?'

Discord smiled and wagged his finger.

"Ah, ah, ah, no can do, I'm afraid. Moving across Planes of Existence and freezing time are trivial. This conversation; all this around you? This is all happening inside your mind. Since you're going to die soon anyway, I'm not really making any lasting changes, if you get my meaning… at least nothing that can't be fixed with a little re-arranging of probabilities here and there. No butterflies causing tornadoes or anything like that. You could say I'm a bit of an expert in Chaos Theory."

The Lord of Chaos approached him and made a motion to dust off his clothes, however in doing so, the pawed hand phased right though his body!

"As you can see, moving just the tiniest speck of dust from your clothes would be impossible. Using my magic to force the matter would rip a hole clean through your universe and fuse it with my own. While that might be it's own fun brand of mayhem, neither of us would survive to enjoy it. No, I had a better idea, one that works for both of us."

Discord disappeared in a flash and teleported back on the platform.

"You see, I made a friend. A wonderfully kind being…"

His face contorted with anger.

"That was killed by an awful world that didn't deserve her. No matter how much I pleaded with her to help or protect her from the awful problems all around her, she insisted that I stay out of it. She was just so... nice; too nice. By the time I realized what a mistake I was making by listening to her, she was gone and I was left all alone. I couldn't accept that. I spent years racking my prodigious mind to find some solution, but my powers cannot bring back the dead or turn back time... or so I thought."

He looked at him with a ferocious look in his mismatched yellow eyes.

"By finding someone my complete opposite in another world — some weak creature obsessed with order and rules — my powers will be 'balanced out'. I could take the consciousness of someone like yourself and use it to make a tiny tweak to the past. With that, I can then slip something noticeable for my past self to realize what a horrible mistake I was making. You will get another chance at life and my best friend gets to live. A 'win-win' situation, if there ever was one."

The salaryman raised an eyebrow. It seemed that he was getting some control of his body back.

'I can't help but imagine there is something of a "catch" to all this. This kind of "Devil's Bargain" must have some sort of twist, am I right? Do you need me to do something for you or-'

Discord leapt back in shock. He looked at him with clear disgust written on his already revolting features.

"Don't even think about that! In fact, it would be best if we never saw each other ever again! A boring, by-the-book person like you would be an absolute nightmare to try and wrangle into my chaotic schemes. Please, stop trying to make sense of all this. There is no greater planfor you. You are not “the chosen one” or important. If you want to die here, I’ll find someone else. That's not how Chaos works. Go off and die again for all I care. Honestly, you humans… you should be grateful that I even explained my reasoning for this in the first place! Can't you just 'go with the flow' for once in your uninteresting, miserable life?"

The Salaryman felt like he should be insulted, but one look at the monstrous form of his interlocutor made him realize such emotions were unwarranted. Did he really want to be considered interesting by this thing? What would be the point of arguing with such madness? Either this whole situation was an hallucination dreamt up by his mind on the verge of death, or this insanity was really happening. Regardless of what was the truth, there was only one logical choice.

The instant he thought of his answer, the train to his left collided with him and he thought no more.
> 2 - The Bilingual Orphan
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Will the Kemerskai Government ever Return Power to the People?

With August 8th behind us, it has officially been 15 years since the “986 Act for the Salvation of the Republic” was first introduced, giving President-Marshal Alexander Kemerskai absolute authority over the Republic and the suspension of the National Elections. Such an act was argued necessary for the preservation of republican ideals in the face of rising anarchy and the threat of foreign intervention in the newly liberated Duchy of Cloudbury. Until now, the President has been honorable in upholding individual liberty, freedom of the press, the separation of his civil and military authority, as well as continuing elections at a local level.

It does raise some damning concerns. Is this the Republican Ideal we dreamed of, fought, and died for all those years ago when we rose up against the Empire? Would the socialist traitors have left us – taking their army and wealth with them to form the Socialist Republic of Skynavia – had the government maintained its democracy? Most importantly, what does the future hold? At what point will our “Imperial President” graciously hand back the power of the people? Have we traded the tyranny of Emperor Grover for yet another would-be dictator? - See Page 3 for more

- Headline article of the Griffonian Republic National Newspaper, Der Republifaner (2nd Week of August 1001 Edition)





March 13th, 1002 ALB – Southern Refugee Camp, Cloudbury City, Griffonian Republic – Rikard POV

Rikard Astler had a tough hill to climb.

Support for the Socialist cause he championed – and left-wing ideals in general – were at an all-time low. Many saw the Left-Wing of the National Republican Party he led as just a branch of the Socialist Republic of Skynavia; little more than traitors eager to coup the Republican government. They were wrong, but it was understandable they would think so. He personally hated the SRS for its betrayal; both for the damage it did to the cause of Worker’s Revolution as well as the scars it left on the Republic. While the power-grab President Kemerskai had done was distasteful, it had been done legally with a 2/3rds majority of Parliament using powers in the constitution the Socialist cause and Asper Sickleclaw – leader of the SRS – agreed on. Democracy was compromise, and by running when they did not get their way, they left the rest of the country reeling in their wake. Bandit groups that had formed all those years ago still roamed the countryside to this day. Bandits that likely would have been crushed with support of Sickleclaw’s Red Army.

Of course, that was not to say The Left was completely without support.

There was a reason that many on The Left had close ties or support from Skynavia. They had succeeded! Communes and Workers Councils had sprung up all over the north and despite the frigid climate, they had carved for themselves a Workers’ Paradise. In addition, unlike the Republic, their National Assembly was comprised of members elected by the people. That was the sort of example that the Center or Right branches of the NRP and their militant regressive politics could not compete against. The exodus of radical Internationalists and Communalists to the SRS, meant the more moderate Democratic Socialists continued the work of supporting Unions, starting Worker Councils and championing charity and welfare efforts for the most disenfranchised. While the Center focused on the military and the Right made their compromises with the Royalists and the Capitalists, the Left was the only party left that still cared for the common griffon.

It was for this reason that he and a select few of his confidants were seated at a soup kitchen, handing out ladle-fulls of a hardy meat stew to the disenfranchised and the poor of the refugee camp on the southern end of Cloudbury City. Although it was called a “Refugee Camp” in reality, it was a slum. 99% of the people living here were native Cloudburians from other parts of the County that had been displaced as menial laborers following the collapse of the Duchy when the Republican Army had liberated them. With new technologies and collectivization and redistribution of the land, tens of thousands of peasants were no longer needed on farms and had moved into the City looking for work. 20 years later and now even their children had grown up into adults without education or steady employment their whole lives.

“We’re running low on potatoes Kamerad Rikard!”

Looking up from the clipboard in his claws, he found himself pulled from his thoughts and back to the large tent they had erected for their soup kitchen. All around him, chefs were working hard preparing the soup while the rest of the team busied themselves ladling them out to the large crowd lining up outside or switching out the empty pots with ones fresh from the kitchen.

He turned to see one of his chefs pointing to his right. Rikard turned and observed the dwindling bags of potatoes with concern. As the movement was self-funded by the very workers it was comprised of, they always were lacking. But that was the nature of being a champion of the poor. Those workers had been poor once, but the socialists helped them. Now they gave everything they had to hopefully change another life for the better. However, as former impoverished citizens of the Republic, they could not give much. It was a heavy burden on his withers to stretch the little they had as far as possible. Hopefully someday soon, they would reach a critical mass: where enough griffons had been brought out of poverty and with enough income to raise the rest of them back on their claws-and-paws.

He turned back to the chef.

“There will be enough for the next hour… we’ll need to get somegriff heading to the warehouse to pick up more bags.”

The chef rolled his eyes.

“Why not send the Herzlander then? It’s not like she has anything better to do.”

Rikard grimaced. Turning to the stations handing out the food, there was one that seemed unexpectedly empty. Dozens of pale-faced, thin and hard-looking griffons waited patiently at all the other stations for the one hot meal they would have in a week, but actively avoided this one. That was because those eleven stations were manned by fellow Cloudburian natives that could speak the language and had signs advertising as such. The twelfth station, however, was manned by a griffon that only spoke the Herzlander dialect from the Empire. This was by design to weed out any Herzlander-speakers in the slum.

‘As much as I hate to admit it, everything I do has an ulterior motive or I wouldn’t be able to grow a movement that can succeed politically in the Republic. This soup kitchen gives out food, spreads the Left-NRP cause and creates gratitude in the poor which will hopefully be returned as funding when they start working someday. It’s also a means to find anygriff that can speak both the Herzlander and Cloudburian languages who would be invaluable to the cause. Whether as clerks writing bilingual copies of books, educating others, or just as capable assistants to other bureaucrats, there’s a huge need. Over 95% of the Republican Government is held by griffons that only speak Herzlander – being exiles from the Empire – yet over 80% of the population of the former Cloudbury Duchy speaks only Cloudburian. If there is some way to mend the divide, it would be a huge political win for the party that achieved it.’

Of course it was easier said than done. Until the Republican Army liberated the former Duchy, Cloudburian griffons had been isolated from the rest of the Empire. They had lived simple lives and had looked at outsiders with suspicion and so had no need nor desire to learn another language. Even now they saw little point; they still had little say in how the government ran. Likewise, the Herzlanders were in the military or other vital jobs keeping the country together and had little time for anything else. So while Rikard himself could speak both languages thanks to his parents, he was by far in the minority.

He sighed before nodding his head at the chef in agreement. He turned his attention to the Herzlander hen only half-paying-attention to the operation of her station.

“Komerad Sylvie, we’re running out of potatoes. Can you head to the warehouse and pick some up?”

She smiled, life seeming to re-enter her body as she jumped up from her seat.

“Finally, something to do… but what about the station-”

He shook his head.

“I’ll operate it for now. Be there and back as soon as you can.”

She saluted.

“Understood Komerad Rikard!”

With that out of the way, he had little else but to do but sit at the station and review the information on his clipboard again. An hour passed with him tabulating Party resources, making notes of different Worker Councils he would need to talk with later, and reading the backlog of mail he had from concerned citizens that considered unionizing but were afraid for their jobs. As he began marking in the margins of the letters about what he could say to ease their concerns, a voice rose up from his right.

“Excuse me sir, can I have some food?”

It was not the content of the words themselves that surprised him, but the Herzlander language.

‘This is who I’m looking for!’

“Of course! Of course, please let me-”

As he turned to the source of the voice, however, he was shocked by who he saw. When he was planning this, he knew that bilinguals living in the slums would be rare; he had to keep his expectations in check. Perhaps they were Cloudburians that had served alongside Herzlander Republicans but had become wounded, or were drunks that struggled to keep a job despite their lucrative skills.

No, instead what he found was a chick that looked only five years old. Her yellow feathers and mop of unruly blonde hair made her look like a freshly born chicken. Of course, considering the rampant malnutrition in the slums, the child could have been as old as 15 for all he knew. No matter her age, he would not let paternal instincts get the better of him. He knew if he gave her food right away, she would run away without another word. While it was awful to withhold food from an obviously starving child, it would also be a disservice to her future if she never heard the opportunity he had for her.

“-ah, I see little one. But before I can do that, can you tell me where you’re parents are?”

Far from being angry or sad at having food withheld from her, she looked uncomfortable.

“I’m an orphan, but don’t think that means I’m just looking for a handout! While I might not have paid any taxes to earn your charity, I swear that I can be a productive citizen of the Republic! I can cook, clean, and do paperwork. I can read and write in two languages; I can earn my keep.”

The leader of the Left-NRP was stunned.

‘How could such a gem – a child genius eager to work – be left alone for so long- No, it makes sense, doesn’t it? This is just more proof of the incompetence of the other parties. While they focus all their energy on “sure bets” and “practical concerns”, they’re throwing the majority of the population under the gears of their “progress”. Just like the Empire or the Duchy before them, thousands of exceptional individuals like this chick in here have been left undiscovered. Their potential squandered.’

Rikard smiled.

“I believe you. I guess that means you have a choice. I can give you this food now – no questions asked – and you can go back to what you were doing… or I can hire you to do some work for me and you can earn enough to enjoy food like this every day.”

For the first time since they met, the chick smiled up brightly at him.

“That’s no choice at all! I’ll gladly work for you… at least as long as there’s the chance for promotion.”

Rikard could not help but chuckle. It had been a long time since he heard anygriff eager for promotion. That might seem hypocritical for someone who currently held the highest position in the party, but it was true. While he wielded the political power necessary to make lasting contributions to the cause of Democratic Socialism, it was a thankless job that earned him no praise or pay. For him to demand better pay would be taking food out of the mouths of the workers, and demanding thanks would be taking the hard-won glory away from his fellow proletariat. Like any good socialist, he did not subscribe to the “Great Griffon” Theory of History. The major, lasting changes in history were achieved not from the work of some Übermensch, but millions of determined workers focused towards a common cause. They were the true heroes of the revolution.

Still, he nodded along with her naivete. If she was as smart as she appeared, she would soon learn what “promotion” really meant… and hopefully she would take up the banner with eagerness.

He poured out a ladle of stew that the chick eagerly devoured.

“Of course, of course. I would not be surprised if you might one day surpass me! Then you would be the one handing out the food. So, why don’t you tell me your name and I can get you introduced to the rest of the team.”

She looked up from her strew, her face bulging with bits of meat and potatoes. With a big gulp, she swallowed the food and responded.

“Ah, I’m Tanya.”

He smiled.

“Well Tanya, as you’ve no doubt seen my posters before, I’m Rikard Astler, leader of Democratic Socialist branch of the National Republican Party. Let me be the first to welcome you to the team.”





March 13th, 1002 ALB – Left-NRP Party Headquarters, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Tanya POV

Tanya’s second life had been a relentless struggle, but for a former Japanese Salaryman, that was nothing new.

Until recently she had been any other 9-year-old orphan: a yellow-feathered, chocobo-looking alien – a “griffon” in the local language – that received free-food and housing with the expectation that she would become a productive member of society. She used the valuable free time provided to learn and develop the skills she needed to survive in this new world: reading and writing. Compared to the reality outside the orphanage – of anarchy and death – any difficulties she had regarding being transformed into an alien of another gender were deemed unimportant.

‘It wasn’t like I particularly cared what gender role I Signaled to the rest of society. Male? Female? I’m a worker, and so long as I still had a path for advancement, that’s what’s important.’

It was with that in mind that – a few months ago when she turned 10 – she left the impoverished orphanage to seek employment. After all, it was not fair of her to steal the value and hard work the orphanage was providing with her care when she already had the skills to make her own way. As a die-hard capitalist, it grated on Tanya to take even one handout more than absolutely necessary to become a productive citizen.

Even with her preparations, the path up the corporate ladder was a thorny one. She had to compete with the other thousands of unemployed griffons all crammed in the city of Cloudbury. She learned the Herzlander language to get a job at a bank or store as a clerk or secretary, but she had been turned down everywhere she went. Whether it was her worn-out clothes, her accent, or her age, no one wanted to take her. Instead she was forced to stay employed by washing clothes with the other Griffon Hens on the river or carrying messages and items for people. The odd jobs never lasted but she could not risk looking elsewhere. Bandits and wild animals roamed freely in the countryside, ruthlessly butchering and thieving from anyone caught out on the roads without military escort.

‘No, no, no, no, NO! Anything would be better than this! How could this happen- no I know why. I was actively avoiding the Socialists this whole time, so of course I wouldn’t know what their leader looks like. Then he tricked me…’

The building which housed the headquarters of the Democratic Socialist Party – also known as the Left Wing National Republican Party or L-NRP – was a small, unassuming concrete slab in the heart of the city. Based on the design of the thin horizontal slits and its squat form, it must have once been a large pillbox or similar military structure hastily assembled before the Revolutionary Republican Army swept its way into the city. It was small, but filled to the brim with paper and people. Every desk was filled with mounds of propaganda leaflets detailing “Underrepresented Worker Rights”, “What Soviet Power means for You”, and “The Plight of the Worker in a Capitalist World”. Every desk was also filled with a griffon rooster or hen mashing away at typewriters or writing notes in the margins of reports.

On the face of it, this new job was everything that the former Japanese Salaryman could have hoped for. A steady office job with no risk of violence was practically a miracle for a poor orphan like herself.

She clenched a claw in frustration.

‘I’m a steadfast capitalist; a firm believer in the Chicago School and the principles of the Free Market! The antithesis of everything that these Socialist psychos believe! Any knowledge I have of that intellectually bankrupt ideology either comes from reading that laughably naive “economic philosophy” text of Karl Marx Das Kapital I read as a foolish teenager, or researching the various concepts of Communism so that I could create a damning rebuttal of its “ideas” for an essay I wrote during my second year of University. That’s far more information than I needed, what with how self-evident its failings were time and time again. With Stalin’s Soviet Union, with Mao’s People’s Republic of China and more. The only result of their “utopian ideals” was a massacre of their supporters followed by decades of stagnation and corruption.’

Ignorant of her internal frustrations, “Komerad” Rikard smiled as he introduced Tanya to a group of his crackpot communist lackeys.

The first was an olive green hen with brown eyes and sporting a short mohawk.

“This is the first of our three undersecretaries: Komerad Clara Löwenkin. Don’t let her attitude fool you though. She might have plenty to talk about and will sound nice and sweet, but be careful. She’s the head of our branch of the Workers' International and despite what she might say, you don’t actually need to join all the marches she has planned.”

The hen rolled her eyes.

“You don’t need to warn off every griff that joins, you know. There was only the one time and I’ve learned my lesson. Besides, I’m not exactly jumping to get little chicks involved. I know what I do can be dangerous. I’m not an idiot.”

Quick to move on, Rikard turned his attention to a male griffon with blue feathers and a scar on his cheek.

“This is Komerad Jakub Poulsen. He was a prominent member of what eventually became the Skynavian General Assembly-”

Jakub huffed.

“Yes, and I don’t regret leaving for a moment. As an anti-war activist, you can imagine what I thought of crushing the innocent Tribesponies of the North in an act of naked imperialism. While I can recognize the need for violence in removing of the shackles of tyranny from those griffons left in bondage in the Empire and elsewhere, that does not mean to become little better than the fascists we aim to destroy. Those ponies led simple lives no different than the Communes we revere. Their only “crime” was being in the way. I hope this nation never finds itself going down the same path as those Skynavian traitors. While I’m here, I promise the Left-NRP will do better.”

The next person in the entourage, a black-feathered griffon, made a clicking sound with his beak.

“I’m Ernst Thälgriff, and while I might disagree with Jakub on some things, what I can agree on is that Socialism only works when it is chosen. It isn’t a hard “sell” for most. As the propaganda head and a former capitalist, I can tell you that what passes for “business” in this country is nothing short of exploitation. You’ll see that we’re doing a lot of good, even going beyond the politics.”

Rikard then pointed to the final person. She looked the total opposite of the other hen: a well-dressed, gray-colored, older griffon.

“Komerad Gisela Griffricht is a member of the Prywhenian Liberation Army down in Brodfeld. She lends what help she can, but her primary effort is keeping in contact with the PLA. They are an important stronghold in the great swathes of monarchical degeneracy and both our causes are better by staying in touch.”

The gray griffon’s face curled into a frown.

“The situation’s been tough. The monarchy has instigated famine after famine for years. Last year, they finally revealed their scheme when the king gave himself absolute power. The griffons there have had enough, but they don’t have any power of their own. If not for me and a few others in the other countries, no one would even be aware of what’s happening. I only hope we can get the help we need.”

Rikard patted her withers sympathetically.

“I can only hope the situation can stabilize for a few more years. Whether it is Skynavia or us, once griffonian socialism can get on its paws, we’ll do what we can for your people.”

Throughout the entire introduction, they all seemed to ignore the hole Tanya was burning into them with her baleful glare.

‘These damn socialists… this is just the typical cult’s playbook. First they lured me in with promises of good pay and a hot meal, sat me down and had a polite conversation… but the moment I let my guard down, they relentlessly use my guilt against me. First I feel obligated to hear out the job, then they begin to rationalize their delusional economic policy by ranting about the mismanagement of some non-capitalist autocratic regimes. If I was ignorant of economic reality, I might have fallen for it.’

Of course, she considered leaving the madmen to their madness again and again… but she hardly had many alternatives. The reason she had learned Herzlander in the first place was to get herself hired by a bank or store as a clerk and work her way up the corporate ladder. It was the most logical path forwards as a former economics major, but until now that path had been universally barred from her. Many of the managers she spoke with about a job took one glance at her Cloudburian looks or ragged clothes and turned their beaks up. The rest did not trust that a young chick like herself would know anything about economics and numbers and despite her insistence that they test her knowledge, she was turned away.

‘Damn that “Lord” of Chaos, he certainly was telling the truth when he said he didn’t care if I lived or died. He must really hate me if any of this was his plan. Being born in the slums of a barely industrialized society or in the body of an alien cat-eagle hybrid of another gender I could live with… but making a deal with Communists?! Even fighting on the front lines would be better than this… am I really willing to stoop so low? Even if this is only a temporary solution until I can find some other business to hire me, can I justify going along with this madness?’

As they left the group of Rikard’s pawns and their impromptu “tour” finally ended, Tanya was led to a small desk at the end of the cramped building. Really more of a side-table with a stool. Stacked high on one side was dozens of hardcover books.

“And here will be your workstation. On the left side here are a number of Party Documents and Socialist media from around the world that we received from our contacts in Skynavia. It will be your job to translate them all from Herzlander into Cloudburian.”

She grimaced at the thought of reading anything to help this mad cause.

Rikard smiled sadly at her. Thankfully he seemed to have the wrong idea.

“I know it seems to be a lot of work, but please take what time you need. In fact, I would be glad if you took the time to read into the information in these books. I know right now you might be hesitant or unconvinced about our cause. You came here to be fed… but you’re a smart chick. I’m sure if you put your mind to it, you can make good use of all this. That’s what Democratic Socialism is all about: helping each other up when we’ve been put down.”

Tanya wanted to scoff at such naive tripe – these “true believers” would not last for even a second once people like Mao or Stalin took control of the Party and purged them – but there was something about what he said that struck a cord with her.

‘He’s right in a way… after all, these idiots aren’t the self-interested “purging” type of Communists – the Stalinists or Maoists. These are “true believers”; the “convenient pawns”. While it would surely be impossible to convince these people that a Central Bank leveraging interest rates and regulation can offset the issues they think capitalism has, some of them might still be convinced to take a less radical approach. There’s no doubt numerous contradictions and fallacies waiting to be found in all this dogma; if I could use that to deprogram people, I would be making things better… at least enough to offset working here until I can find another job. After all, despite how idiotic it is, the idea of Socialism never really goes away. Even in a capitalist utopia like Japan, small groups still made the news. These true believers serve an important function in showing the rest of the world how stupid the idea really is.’

While there was plenty of bad things to say about the Griffonian Republic: the lack of national freedom, the disorganized mess of its politics, the lack of racial equality, the illiteracy, or the backwards economic and political mindset of most of the people in it, it was also the best nation on the continent. It had the potential to turn itself around like Post-War Japan. When its neighbors were described in the books she read as “knightly orders”, “aristocratic feudalism” or “autocratic slave-states”, was it any wonder that the Republic struggled with these radicals? She just needed to do her best in pointing them down the right path.

She smiled.

“Understood… Komerad Rikard. I’ll get to work right away. You’re right, us citizens all have to do our best to make the nation a better place. It might not have been the way I wanted, but I’ll do my best.”

Her new boss smiled, using one of his clawed hands to make a mess of the feathers and hair on her head.

“If only I had more griffons like you, the Socialists would be leading this country by now!”

As the man turned to leave, she frowned.

‘We’ll see about that.’
> 3 - Workplace Dispute
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Political Shift in Equus – A Setback for Republican Values?

Continuing from earlier headlines of the Changeling Invasion of the Equestrian capital of Canterlot and the re-discovery of populated lands in northern Equus, there is more news about that pony-dominated continent. In yet another reminder of the dangers of absolute rule, these lands – reportedly called the Crystal Empire – comprised a nation that was trapped in an ancient curse by its former despotic leadership for hundreds of years. In the month since its discovery, the lands have since been formally structured as yet another Alicorn-led nation and a puppet of Equestria. Ignoring protests from our Republic regarding the Empire’s citizens’ right to choose, the Crystal Empire now lives up to its name once more with the crowning of Princess Mi Amore Cadenza – the Alicorn of Love – as absolute monarch.

With yet another new nation succumbing to monarchical rule in northern Equus, talks have once again opened regarding closer ties with Nova Griffonia. Military support for the former Imperial Colony has been tabled by Veteran and Harmonist leader Schnabel Sunglider to stem the spread of aristocratic rule to that last bastion of republican values in Equus. - See Page 2 for more

- Headline article of the Griffonian Republic National Newspaper, Der Republifaner (4th Week of July 1002 Edition)





July 23rd, 1002 ALB – Left-NRP Party Headquarters, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Tanya POV

Tanya spent the last few months diligently translating as much of the socialist propaganda as she could. She had considered making major changes or fixing glaring mistakes with the media, but determined that the unaltered, flawed, presentation was the best suited in turning away rational people from the ideology. After all, socialism and its hypocritical failings were its own worst enemy.

Of course, that was not all she was doing.

While she learned the strange terms and nomenclature of the “cult” known as socialism, she also went out of her way to talk with other griffons in the party about the contradictions in their philosophy in the hopes of deprogramming their fanaticism to that doomed cause. The violence against innocent people needed to take away their hard-earned private property, the lack of unity being exploited by strongmen to create a totalitarian state, the disaster of engaging in economic warfare with capitalist nations, nothing was considered off limits.

At first, her actions only isolated herself within the party as a “heretic”. However after a month, some began to think critically about their ideology. Some even came back to argue with her about the many failings of their doctrine! It was a start and she hoped that some of those she talked with might one day turn away from their doomed path.

She also put in effort to move on from this wretched job working for Communists. A less morally ambiguous career as a banker, shareholder or industry consultant would suit her fine. With money and free time, she set about regularly going to the local library to familiarize herself with the economic terminology of concepts and ideas she was already familiar with: stocks, bonds, market cap, margins, ROI, and more. Any other time was spent looking for jobs, but no luck yet.

‘If only they would listen to my ideas! Forecasts of guaranteed market trends, proven social policy and future trade issues; things that could be leveraged to jump-start the economy and get the Republic back on track! I just need them to give me a chance!’

It was with those thoughts in mind that she was interrupted during her routine translating duties by her boss: Rikard Astler, Secretary and leader of the Left-NRP grabbing her attention with the snapping of his claw.

Tanya grimaced.

‘Ah… perhaps my disputes with the other party members were more problematic than I thought?’

Rikard frowned.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I need your help.”

Tanya was surprised. She looked up from her tiny desk, her translation of a pamphlet full of common workers chants long forgotten.

“Is something wrong? By your tone… it doesn’t sound like more translating work.”

Rikard waved a claw in a “so-so” motion.

“In a way it is. Workers at the Cloudbury 14th Arms Factory complex on the East side have walked off the job this morning. The owner of the factory is calling it collective action and threatening to use the army to force them back to work. Obviously as the Workers’ Party, we are very concerned about this.”

Tanya thought through the implications and frowned as she realized there was a lot confusing her about the situation. It was clear she needed to do more reading into local politics and law.

“I didn’t know collective action was illegal. Aren’t there already plenty of unions? I even remember there being a few Workers’ Councils and Co-ops even. While there are no national elections and you Socialists are nowhere in the majority, you’re not completely out of politics, right? A strike like this feels like nothing in comparison.”

Rikard nodded along with a sad expression before sighing.

“Normally you’d be right, but it’s different for the military. This Armory produces artillery shells and the current Armaments Minister Erich Kreiger is a staunch anti-socialist. If he had his way, unions, Workers’ Councils and even our party would be banned. That he’s willing to ban even a simple strike…”

Tanya nodded along.

‘It good that at least somegriff has common sense to see the threat of socialism… although I can’t agree with banning strikes. They are a valuable signal of a healthy capitalist society. If the work conditions are so bad that workers are risking their livelihoods to make something known, that means something’s clearly wrong. It’s one thing to ban a Union – a worker-led mafia – that will interfere with the day-to-day operation of a private enterprise, it’s another thing to take away the right to protest. What the heck is Human Resources doing… although I suppose it would be called “Griffon Resources”?

‘That’s one of the first things the company drilled into me during my introductory package for HR: oversee compliance with the law, ensure the workers have a clear understanding of corporate expectations, and handle disciplinary action against agitators and underachievers to maintain a productive work environment. Something like this shouldn’t happen with common sense business practices… then again, Rikard and the socialists are involved somehow…’

Tanya raised an eyebrow.

“Have we done anything about this in the past? Established a union, interfered with their operations, something like that?”

Rikard smiled sadly.

“We’ve tried, but with Minister Kreiger’s interference, there isn’t much we could do. The last time the workers tried to form a union, he broke things up with the army.”

Tanya nodded.

‘Well, there’s the problem. Obviously the poor business owner is just sick-and-tired of the workers routinely interfering with his critical production. With everything I’ve read in the papers, war materiel is vital to the greater Repubilc’s efforts on eradicating the bandit problem and national security.’

Not knowing what she was thinking, her boss smirked.

“So have I convinced you?”

Tanya raised an eyebrow.

“Of what? You still haven’t told me what you want to do. If you’re expecting me to fix this mess, I’m going to have to turn you down. Based on what you said, isn’t any involvement from us a crime?”

He had the gall to laugh at that.

“No, no, I don’t expect you to solve anything. Your role is rather simple, actually. The workers need a translator since the owner doesn’t speak Cloudburian. Now the owner has a translator, but the workers won’t trust anygriff working for their boss. It’s already happened that the workers found themselves signing a document that was “not translated properly” which put them in a bad situation… a “clerical error” they were told. I would choose somegriff else if I could, but I’m campaigning for re-election as Councilgriff of the lower South side and my normal translation duties are keeping the other translators busy. You’re the only one doing anything non-essential.”

Tanya could not think of a reason not to go.

‘I suppose this isn’t actually benefiting the socialist party. I’m just translating a workers’ dispute and it sounds like the workers have already tried forming a union, so a “win” here wouldn’t be putting the party in a better light with them then they already are…’

“I’ll do it… though to be crystal clear, I’m just going to translate. No pushing socialist policy, right?”

Her boss nodded.

“Exactly. I wouldn’t have you do anything actually dangerous. In fact, you will need to be accurate with your translations since the owner will have his own translator. While the workers don’t trust anygriff the owner sends, the owner certainly won’t trust your translation either since you’re working for the Party.”

Tanya grimaced.

‘I don’t want people to start associating me as “that socialist chick”…’

She turned thoughtful as her boss left her to her work.

‘Then again, this does provide an excellent opportunity to “fix” that misconception. If I prove to the owner and his contacts with the Industrialists and Capitalists in this country that I’m pragmatic and can fix their problems for them without the use of socialism, it would put me on the fast-track back to an ordinary corporate life…’

Collecting her things, she held her head high as she rushed out the door and to the first of what would no doubt be several meetings with the workers. She had a week to prepare and she would make every use of it she could.





July 30th, 1002 ALB – 14th Arms Factory Complex, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Stonebeak POV

Two griffons sat quietly in an office waiting for the other party of the negotiations to arrive. Seated at a large desk was an overweight white-feathered griffon, the owner of the 14th Arms Factory: Hans Edelweiss. To his right was the owner’s opposite: a scrawny, unassuming brown griffon by the name of Johannes Stonebeak, a translator hired by Heinrich Kingfeather – head of the Right-wing National Republican Party – to help resolve things. With his name routinely coming out wrong in the Cloudburian accent, Stonebeak went by his last name for simplicity. In the corners of the room, two soldiers of the National Republican Army stood guard in case things became heated. It would not be the first or last time a worker dispute came to blows.

The owner sat back in his seat. Its oak wooden construction creaked as he waved a claw in the air dismissively.

“Why put on this dog and pony show, Stonebeak? The workers are antsy because of his higher quotas, but that’s not my fault. Heinrich already knows what’s going to happen. If he wants to keep up production, he needs to force the workers back in line. No amount of these “negotiations” are going to get him his ammunition.”

Stonebeak grimaced.

“I cannot say for certain what Mr. Kingfeather expects, sir, but he seemed very insistent to me that this not come to violence-”

Hans snorted.

“Well he can insist all he likes, but that won’t change the facts. I’ve done everything above-board, I’ve kept the prices stable and I’ve doubled production in the past year to meet his ridiculous quotas. It’s the workers that have messed things up for him, they should be the one paying the price for their treason, not me.”

‘Except none of the other factories producing shells have had any issues. Could it be the Socialist Republic of Skynavia undermining the government…? Could Hans be secretly incompetent… or skimming some of the workplace expenses off the top?’

Stonebeak sighed, but said nothing. While he suspected that there must be something going on, he had no proof. It was not in his mandate from the R-NRP to investigate and he knew no one else would look. Hans – like all owner-operators of military production – was a griffon that had worked in production over 20 years earlier in the Empire before the Revolutionary War. That sort of experience was priceless and it showed. The 120mm shells produced by the factory had a low defect rate that had improved year-by-year.

That also meant he was irreplaceable. Heinrich and himself might have wanted this to end without violence, but Armaments Minister Kreiger was a different story. The re-armament of the army to fight against the bandits and warlords in the north was too important to jeopardize and the minister had carte-blanche approval from President Kemerskai to get the job done. Unless Hans was collaborating with a foreign power or this was a Skynavian plot, Stonebeak’s leadership wanted nothing from him but results.

It was at this moment there was a knock on the door. A second later, one of the guards outside the room opened the door and a tough-looking griffon hen walked in. With a permanent scowl etched on her face and wearing oil-stained leather overalls over a thick turtleneck, she could only be the representative of the workers.

The factory worker huffed and turned her beak up.

“So that’s the bastard, huh? Doesn’t seem like much.”

‘Things are not off to a good start.’

Stonebeak grimaced and so did the other translator. At least it seemed that the Socialist Party could send someone that appreciated just how bad this situation was-

‘Wait is their translator a young chick?! Why would they- ah, well I suppose an accusation that a griffon that young is a violent socialist instigator would only make the accuser look like an idiot.’

Hans sat up at his desk and pointed at the worker.

“Stonebeak? What did she say?! That sounded like an insult to me!”

Stonebeak sighed, but tried his best to salvage the situation.

“Do you want to hear every little detail, sir?”

The factory owner paused for a moment before chuckling.

“No, I suppose I can imagine it well enough. It doesn’t matter; let them seethe. Well? Invite them to sit down. Might as well get this farce over with.”

As they sat down, the worker introduced herself as Gisella Strongfeather: supervisor of the final assembly stage at the plant and representative of the 495 workers that walked off the job. The translator likewise introduced herself as Tanya in both Cloudburian and Herzlander. They sat across from one another at a small conference table in the middle of the office. The two guards in the room took positions at the ends of the table but made no threatening moves.

Tanya seemed eager to get started and brought out a piece of paper.

“So I’ve spoken with the workers and they are willing to come back to work if-”

Before she could finish, Hans held up a claw.

“I’m going to stop you right there. There won’t be any compromise. The workers come back to work, or I have it on good authority the army will force them back.”

Stonebeak sat up.

“Sir that’s not-”

Hans silenced him with a firm grip on his withers.

“Will Minister Kreiger send in the army to resume production or not?”

Stonebeak could only stay in silence.

“That’s what I thought.”

Glenda – having not understood a word of the Herzlander conversation – spoke to Tanya.

“What did he say?”

Tanya turned to the worker, said “Hold on.” and turned back to the rest of the group.

“Hans-”

The owner shut the chick down once again with a word.

“Mr. Edelweiss. I expect to be treated with some respect.”

Tanya took the interruption in stride.

“Mr. Edelweiss, then. I’ve been told by the workers that it’s a crime if they quit their jobs or else most would have quit already. If the military forces them back on the job, you’ll be making the government look bad.”

Hans snorted.

“I’m not sure if you’ve looked outside lately, but the nation is in crisis, chick. Republicanism itself is at stake. Every one of these shells I make could mean one less casualty on the front lines against bandits up north or the border in times of war. If that means a few workers living safe, comfortable lives have to tighten the belt a little and work a little longer, that’s a small price to pay for the preservation of liberty.”

Glenda looked visibly upset.

“Damn it Tanya, tell us what’s going on! We didn’t hire you to have a nice chit-chat with the boss.”

Tanya gave her a summary, but could hardly finish before the worker began shouting.

“What do you mean there will be no compromise! That we’re traitors! I’m a damn patriot for this Republic! I’ve slaved away for 15 years with long hours and no breaks and a wage that can barely feed my family yet alone keep a roof over our heads. I did all that because the times were tough, but I believed in the Revolution. Now that bastard wants us working 14 hour days and this is the response?!”

Glenda jumped up and made an effort to grab Hans by the neck. She did not make it half way before the two soldiers grabbed her and shouted in Herzlander.

“Sit back down, Cloudy!”

“Don’t do something you’re gonna regret!”

Glenda scowled and struggled in the soldiers’ grip.

“I see how it is. I’m just another slave.”

She turned to Stonebeak.

“Is this what the Republic’s been reduced to? I’m just supposed to slave away for you until I’m thrown away like trash?”

He grimaced.

“That’s not…”

Hans gestured to the scene before him.

“Stonebeak, can’t you see what’s going on? She tried to attack me. Can we just end this farce and be done with it before somegriff gets hurt?”

Stonebeak sighed, wallowing in his helplessness.

‘This isn’t anything like I expected. If this is a Synavian plot, well… it’s certainly working on me. If word of this gets out, I’m not sure who would be lynched first, Hans or the workers. No matter what, the government’s going to look bad and times will get worse for everygriff. Isn’t there some way to-’

“Mr. Edelweiss, sir, I think the situations gone a little out of claw.”

Stonebeak opened his eyes at the sound of Tanya’s voice.

Hans chuckled, sitting back in his seat as he gestured for the soldiers to hold Glenda further away from the table.

“Understatement of the year, I think. Well, are we done here? Did you get what you people wanted from this nonsense?”

Tanya shook her head.

“Sir, I still believe there’s a chance to reach a compromise.”

Hans rolled his eyes.

“And I think there’s a chance that I could become President. I’m. Not. Budging.”

Tanya leaned forwards, gesturing to Glenda.

“I can see that, sir. Honestly, I also felt that the demands the workers are making are unreasonable.”

Stonebeak was flabbergasted and could not help but voice his surprise.

“You do?”

Hans smiled.

“Well I’m glad somegriff around here is finally making sense. Wouldn’t have thought it would come from a damn socialist, but alright then. If their demands are so unreasonable, what compromise am I expected to make.”

Tanya smiled sadly.

“I expect that your goals are going to be completely inflexible. The price and material per shell is fixed, so wages and production is capped by supply and demand, right?”

“Of course. That’s exactly why I need these workers on shift as long as possible on fixed pay. I start raising wages and I need to get rid of workers. I lower production targets and the military gets less shells. I would lower wages if I could, but the stupid Harmonists instituted a minimum wage for technical work and my workers qualify.”

Tanya nodded.

“Just like I thought. Then I think we can work something out. If those are the only issues, why not hire unskilled, non-technical labor?”

Hans frowned.

“I’m not sure I follow.”

Tanya gave him a placating smile.

“While these workers cannot quit, you could still lay off a few of them right? I’m sure there is still competition in the manufacturing sector that would take them on. At the same time, I can personally attest that there are hundreds of unemployed people just in Cloudbury alone that would gladly take a pay-cut for a stable income. Use the wages saved from laying off workers to hire more with less pay to reduce hours and everygriff wins.”

Hans scowled.

“That’s the type of tripe I should expect from a chick. That wouldn’t work at all. This isn’t some plot of farmland worked by peasants. This is a factory. I can’t just hire anygriff off the streets.”

Tanya nods.

“Maybe not for some of the work, but there are plenty of non-technical tasks. I spoke with the workers all this past week. Moving crates and assembly could be done without any technical expertise except a few days of initial oversight for training. Likewise, routine documentation and cleanup procedures could be done with less urgency with more griffons on the floor, that would allow for combining repeat tasks to streamline workflow. Even with 25% of the workforce replaced by 2 non-technical workers at half-pay, that would still mean 2 less hours of work for everygriff else. With two 12 hour shifts instead of one 14, you might even be able to get the factory running at maximum 24-hour capacity rather than leaving the machines idle, with only a marginal increase in pay for the extra workers.”

Stonebeak was shocked that such pragmatic terms were coming out of the chick’s mouth, but what had him more stunned was Hans. While they had not worked with each other much, Stonebeak could see that the factory owner was already counting the profit.

“Maybe… no. There would still be the quality issue. I can’t allow the production quality to dip.”

Tanya seemed confused.

“I was told that quality was falling regardless. Even if you had the workers back on the job, 14 hours of non-stop technical work is sure to cause mistakes. I was told many were forced to sleep on the factory floor to get a full 8 hours of sleep and that others weren’t so lucky. What were you planning to do about the dip in quality caused by tired workers?”

Stonebeak turned to Hans with a scowl. He had not been told that.

“Is this true?”

For the first time in the meeting, Hans looked a little nervous.

“There may have been some issues recently that…”

He shook his head and glared at Tanya like this was all her fault.

“Alright, fine. You have a deal- a tentative deal, you understand? You’ve until my next delivery in a month to figure this out and I’ll expect there to be no backlog by then. I will be overseeing this every step of the way. I expect quality work.”

He turned to Stonebeak with a scowl.

“And you? You tell Heinrich I was the best damn negotiator you’ve ever heard. I want his personal approval of this plan and freedom from any consequences if they mess it up. He owes me big time for this. Now get these damn traitors out of my sight.”

The soldiers released Glenda and they all began to leave the room. When Tanya began to explain what happened, it looked like Glenda was going to lash out again, but by the time the translator had finished her retelling, the worker just looked relieved it was all over.

Then that worker – that tough-looking griffon – started crying.

“Thank you! Oh merciful Boreas it’s finally over. Thank you, thank you so much. I can finally see my chicks again! I haven’t seen them at all this month!”

Stonebeak found himself tearing up as well and left the room. He could not handle the shame any longer.

‘Damn it! Is this what the Republic is coming to?! When will all this awfulness end… its been 15 years already.’

However, there was one final thing he had to do. Just before Tanya left the building, Stonebeak cornered her in the hallway.

“I don’t know how you did it. I was there and I don’t believe it. I just need to know. This isn’t some socialist scheme, is it? Are you sure this plan of yours will really work?”

Tanya looked insulted.

“Of course! Hiring and on-boarding are something of a specialty of mine. The people in the southern slums don’t exactly have resumes, but I’ve already thought up a few strategies to weed out most of them. I’m confident I can have everything needed to get started by the end of the day. Honestly, with how bad the job market is, even half-pay will seem like middle-class for most of them… I might even be able to eek out a worker or two once I go over the finer details. The workers only had half the information I needed going into the meeting, so I had to wing-it for the most part.”

Stonebeak’s brow furrowed. Something was not adding up.

“I’m surprised the Socialists endorsed this sort of plan. This sort of compromise doesn’t seem their way of doing things.”

Tanya froze and he knew he was right.

“I’m sure… I can explain things to them. Everygriff won in the end, right?”

‘Who is this child? She planned all this without help from her party? She has to be lying… but the results will speak for themselves… Not to mention a Socialist willing to negotiate with somegriff like Hans in such a ruthlessly pragmatic way? I don’t think I could view my fellow citizens like resources in an economics problem like that, even if I knew it was for the greater good. Hans may have demanded that I make his “contributions” in this negotiation front-and-center, but I’m certainly going to make sure they know about her.’

Tanya gave him a pleading look, the chick’s wide eyes looking adorable.

“On that note, you saw the good work I did back there. I don’t suppose you’d hire me?”

The conversation had taken such a wild turn that Stonebeak almost reflexively said “yes”. Then he realized what she was really asking for and almost broke into laughter.

‘A socialist asking to join the Right-Wing National Republican Party?’

He mimed “thinking about it” for a moment and looked her up and down.

“Hmm… I don’t think it would be quite a good fit.”

Tanya frowned in a convincing way despite but he clearly knew it was an act.

“Is it because I’m working for the Socialists? I can quit. Honestly, after what I pulled today I’m not sure they’ll want me around.”

Now he knew she was messing with him. While the Left did not get a huge win here, Stonebeak seriously doubted they were hoping for violence. That negotiation was one step away from coming to blows inside the office yet alone what would have happened with an army on the streets. Regardless, Stonebeak appreciated the joke after such a tense meeting so he played along with the chick’s antics.

“Well alright, assuming you found yourself in real hot water because of your success here today, I’ll see what I can do.”

With nothing much left to say, they parted ways.

‘Well, I certainly have quite the story to tell. While there’s obviously no way we would take on such a firebrand, Heinrich will want to hear about her, that’s for sure.’





July 30th, 1002 ALB – Left-NRP Party Headquarters, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Rikard POV

Rikard waited patiently at the front door of the headquarters. While the other party members commented on him acting like a “mother hen” and doting on Tanya, he did not see it that way at all. Tanya was not just an orphan translator to him, she was a new vision of the future of the party. Tanya was clearly very smart, but he was worried she would struggle to find a place. He had hired her for selfish reasons and not out of any loyalty to the cause. It could have ended poorly for everygriff, but it was heartening that even someone with no experience with socialism could pick up the works of authors such as Caramel Marks and find them immediately engaging.

‘It’s not just her understanding of both of the Republic’s languages now, she’s blossomed over the past few months as a harsh critic. She’s not afraid to argue against what she feels are political overreach and radically unproven actions. While many of her points come across as missing context or the bigger picture, they are all well-reasoned. She’s the perfect type of socialist: someone not afraid to change the status quo and push for other socialists to do better.’

It was during these thoughts that Tanya arrived back, much to his relief. He was quick to demand what happened and she delivered.





“-and that’s was the end of the negotiations.”

Rikard paused in a moment of stunned silence before looking down on the chick with new eyes.

“You do remember the conversation we had, right? I said you only needed to translate. That certainly didn’t mean you needed to try and solve the problem yourself, right?”

Tanya looked concerned, but straightened up.

“Of course, and I’m ready to take any punishment you see fit.”

‘Punishment? But why would she-’

His eyes widened and he thought back to their first conversation.

‘Of course. Tanya’s always had an obsession with promotion and responsibility, didn’t she? I gave her a task and she went above and beyond. In her mind, that was outside her responsibility so she should be punished.’

It was a common problem with a certain type of socialist: someone with a strong opinion of right and wrong. They were drawn to the labor theory of value to make the world a fairer place. The issue was that the perception people had of the world was usually wrong. Things like fairness and labor value could not be calculated by anecdotal inference, it needed statistics and the big picture. Two workers on different plantations could harvest an apple with different value for a vast array of reasons, but most people resorted to convenient answers like “laziness” or “inefficient work practices” for why one was more expensive than the other. That type of thinking resulted in a business staying open long past their usefulness. Sometimes it was more fair to close down a factory or remove someone from their position, even if they were providing tremendous value. Sometimes the facts were clear: that factory or that person will provide more value doing something else.

He smiled and knelt down to meet Tanya at eye level.

“I’m glad you feel that way. If you had told me what you were going to do, I would have kept you from going.”

She nodded, but he shook his head.

“I would be wrong.”

She was shocked, but he pressed forwards.

“That meeting? I had written it off. I had assumed it was a forgone conclusion what would happen and yet you surprised me. It’s clear to me you are wasted just doing translation work. Therefore, as Secretary of the Democratic Socialist Branch of the National Republican Party, I promote you to a brand new position: Internal Party Ambassador. Whenever there is a dispute between the branches of the National Republican Party – where the workers have called us to action to defend them or champion their cause – I want you there. Whatever brilliance you displayed today, I want you to keep using it.”

Tanya’s shock appeared to morph into anger, but he had been around her long enough to know what she was truly feeling. It was the same emotion she showed when criticizing socialism, she was playing the devil’s advocate.

“No, I can’t accept that. I made a setback to the socialist cause today. Had I done nothing at all, the government would have stepped in and forcibly put everygriff back to work. You could have used that to showcase their failings. Now, they will get all the profits they wanted while feeling none of the repercussions.”

Rikard frowned.

“I might have been able to twist such a tragedy to my benefit, but that isn’t the point. That would only be making the best of a bad situation. What you showed today went beyond pragmatism and to the founding principles of Republicanism: that we are stronger together, united against hardship and tyranny. If everygriff was even half as understanding as you were in that meeting, in making necessary compromises, the problems in this nation would be resolved by now. That’s why I need you as my ambassador. I need you to remind the rest of the parties – and maybe even our own – that we’re still in this together. Maybe you will disappoint me, but I feel you still have plenty of surprises left.”

Tanya froze for a moment.





July 30th, 1002 ALB – Left-NRP Party Headquarters, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Tanya POV

‘This isn’t supposed to be how this goes! The plan was simple: meet with the factory owner, put forth an obviously anti-socialist solution, and use that goodwill to leverage a contact in the industry. When I came back to the party, it would be clear that I used my party affiliation for personal gain and I would be kicked out. Then I just had to wait for Stonebeak or his benefactors to get in touch with me and I would be back on track! Simple!’

But now that she was faced with promotion, the situation had completely changed for the worse.

‘It would have been different if I was kicked from the party with Rikard angrily ranting about me being a traitor, but if I decline the promotion and leave the party now, I would look like a socialist spy! If someone even bothered to dig any deeper, it would look worse! They would find I had even been offered a promotion right before I quit! This is the end of my career-’

She paused… and realized that perhaps all was not so lost yet.

“To be clear, if I become your ambassador, I would be expected to talk and get to know the important griffons from the other parties, right?”

Rikard grimaced.

“Yes, I can imagine that’s not pleasant to think about. You will need to interact and be friendly with the industrialists and power-brokers of the capital class. The very people undermining the cause of workers’ revolution and its ownership of the means of production. You can say no. Taking such a pragmatic approach for the good of Republicanism is a good thing, but I’m sure it has left you with mixed feelings.”

She smiled.

‘Say no more!’

“I look forward to the challenge! Your faith in my… dedication to the socialist cause won't go unrewarded. I promise that I will create a path towards a better future for all citizens.”

Rikard nodded his head.

“Of that I have no doubt.”
> 4 - Kemerskai Council
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alicorn-ification: The New Face of the Pony Aristocracy

The Coronation Ceremony of the newest Princess of Equestria, Twilight Sparkle, has chilling implications for the future of freedom and liberty in that powerful pony nation. Every alicorn has had very favorable opinions of current government policy and has obtained positions of authority without showcasing the requisite merit for governance. Why? Many can point to the achievements of Mi Amore Cadenza and Twilight Sparkle, but fighting criminals is not a useful skill when a famine crisis hits, as seen with the iconic mismanagement of Stalliongrad. As of yet, the Equestrian leadership refuse to comment on the process with which the pegasus Mi Amore or the unicorn Twilight Sparkle transformed into the alicorns they are today.

A question emerges: will Princess Celestia’s political rivals at home or abroad gain access to this transformation capability? Will their own citizens? Whatever the answers, it is clear that with the growing number of these “super-ponies” at the highest levels of office, a new political class has emerged. - See Page 6 for more

- Opinion article on the front page of the Griffonian Republic National Newspaper, Der Republifaner (1st Week of October 1002 Edition)





Oct 8th, 1002 ALB – Republic Square, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Clara POV

“Is this for us democracy?!”
““Is this for us democracy?!””

“Where is our vote, our sovereignty?!”
““Where is our vote, our sovereignty?!””

An olive-green griffon hen with brown eyes and a mohawk stood on a podium. Clara Löwenkin – long-time workers activist for the Democratic Socialists of the National Republican Party – yelled into a microphone to a crowd of over 2,000 supporters who chanted back in return. They were joined by over 10,000 supporters of the Central-NRP Harmonist faction, and in the far distance was a third group; the Right-NRP with well over 6,000 members. Each group was crammed into the small Republic Square to the point that many griffons were forced to spill out into the adjoining streets. Yet despite this, a “healthy” gap between the three groups existed to avoid “accidents” boiling over into riots. They had learned that the hard way.

The square had all of its statues and fountains removed when the city of Cloudbury was taken over 15 years ago and so it was now just a flat sheet of fitted stones. The only thing left in place was a large flag pole in the middle which now flew the Republican Tricolor. With the removal of the statues also came a removal of the name; it would never be Plumenjar Square – named after its former nobility – ever again.

“Or is this aristocracy?!”
““Or is this aristocracy?!””

“Let us end this hypocrisy!”
““Let us end this hypocrisy!””

Behind Clara was the focal-point of the demonstration today: the Republican Palace. A contradiction of terms unless one remembered the reason for the rally: the current President had banned all national elections with “The Salvation of the Republic Act of 986”. That, combined with its history as the former “Grand Plumenjar Palace” of the Cloudbury Barony made it stick as a name whether the government wanted it or not.

“The leadership’s afraid of me!”
““The leadership’s afraid of me!””

“The people’s power is unity!”
““The people’s power is unity!””

With the end of the chant, there was a cheer and a round of applause, griffon claws came together in a cacophony of dull but heavy-sounding clacking. It took a few minutes for the crowd to die down before Clara could once again speak back to the crowd.

“Thank you all for coming! It is only with your support – the power of the people – that I can stand before you today, ready to force President Kemerskai to do his job! I-”

She could not speak another word as the crowd cheered again. It took almost another minute for them to calm down before she could continue.

“Yes, thank you, thank you again! As you all know, it has been exactly 17 Years and 2 Months since the Act of 986 was first introduced and-”

This time, it was booing that she could not speak. However, in the interest of time, she powered through it by signaling to the operators of her magical speakers to increase the volume.

“But as we all know, there was good reason at the time! Skyvania abandoned us, the bandit attacks got worse, even General Rosewing – the damn traitor – defected with his army to become some “warlord” in the north! These have all hurt, but through it all, we were told it would only be for a short while! Well, it’s been a long while and we’ve had enough!”

This time the crowd going wild was intended and Clara waited for them to finish. Checking the time, she realized she was running a little behind schedule and quickly moved on to the end.

“The Democratic Socialist Party has heard your pleas and vows to push that grumpy old President to do his damn job or step aside!”

With the crowd going wild one final time, she signaled to the operators to cut the power to the speakers. She hopped off the podium with a brief glide of her wings and stood in between two tough-looking griffons clad in blood-red armor. On their helmets was a golden star. These were the Red Guard of Moe Sparrowsbane, the Chairgriff-General of the Red Army that remained after the Skynavian Communists left. They were part of an elite unit that regularly fought against the bandits in the north and looked it, with fierce scars and bulging muscles. With them by her side, they were able to easily “part the sea” of Left-NRP supporters and make their way to the Republican Palace.

The meeting taking place was the monthly “Kemerskai Presidential Council”. Representatives of all the political movements and the government would meet to discuss recent political developments as well as make suggestions. She was there representing the workers while Rikard represented the party. With the Left-NRP leader busy with an emergency at one of the Workers’ Councils, he had a replacement go in his stead.

With the doors of the Palace closing behind her, Clara was greeted by the sight of said replacement: the “rising star” of the party, Tanya. Over the past few months, the 11-year-old griffon had acted as the “Party Ambassador” working to resolve disputes and was already involved in over 30 cases of worker-related unrest. It was something somegriff her age should have had no business doing and she was no miracle-worker.

In a majority of the cases, the issues remained unresolved or continued to deteriorate. The worst being the Cavegrove Lumberyard Massacre where the workers – who had been on hunger-strike for 3 days – suddenly went mad with delirium and charged a line of Republican soldiers guarding the perimeter. Over 200 died before the riot could get under control. While she certainly did not blame Tanya, she raised concerns with Rikard about why she was appointed to the position in the first place.

Then she started to see a glimpse of what Rikard had.

Tanya had worked with the Teacher’s Union to draft a revised curriculum that reduced marking and cut a full year off of schooling. That had been the thing which broke their strike and had them returning to work after three weeks off the job. There had also been a strike with the Squark Steel Worker’s Union when the owner of the Krupp Steelworks – Krupp Ironfeather – slashed wages for all non-technical workers by 30% while refusing to lower rent on the company town they all lived in. Tanya had somehow provided enough evidence of mismanagement that an audit was called which uncovered significant embezzlement between the company leadership and the Strawberry Duchy. The court case for that was still underway, but as a sign of good faith, the company was now state-owned with supervision by all the parties and Krupp was hanged for treason.

Belying her obvious intelligence, the small griffon chick’s face was puffed-up with indignation. She looked adorable. No doubt she had had to wait in the lobby for hours with nothing to do while Clara was outside talking up the crowd.

Tanya let out a sigh of annoyance.

“Why do you do all this? Hasn’t the President been reasonable with his actions so far? I thought you trusted him?”

While Clara was almost certain the chick was just venting and did not want an answer, it was a good enough conversation starter to “break the ice”, so she went along with it. She gestured towards a staircase and began to walk to their meeting with the President.

“Well there’s reasonable and reasonable just like there’s trust and trust.”

Tanya frowned.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Clara chuckled, brushing the chick’s feathers much to her indignation.

“Well think about it this way. Why do good fences make good neighbors?”

As they reached the top of the staircase and made their way down one of the hallways, Tanya rolled her eyes at the common anecdote.

“To maintain boundaries, to enforce the social contract and avoid issues of disagreements on small differences of opinion blowing up into bigger problems. I know the analogy, I just don’t see how it applies.”

‘Well, that makes it clear she just wants to argue. If she knows that much already, there really isn’t anything we’re disagreeing with.’

Clara raised an eyebrow.

“I can’t see how it doesn’t. We’re here every month on the 8th – the anniversary of the 986 Act – doing the same song-and-dance, to mark down where the “fence” of President Kemerskai’s authority is and show that we mean business. While it might not seem like a lot of people – just a few thousand of the millions – remember that we rotate them out every time. This is 1% of the griffons that can afford to protest in spite of how bad the state of the country is right now. Sure, nogriff – outside of us in the leadership, of course – is here more than once every few years, but even that is a message. We’re showing the President we’ve still got the popular support if he tries anything. He also knows we can ramp up the protests however large it needs to be to force him to back down. Not just us either.”

Clara pointed out a nearby window overlooking the square and the mob outside.

“There are Harmonists and Militant-Republicans from the Center-NRP under Vice President Schnabel Sunglider. He shows up with the most griffons because – despite being close friends with the President – they have fundamental disagreements. For Schnabel, he would rather we abandon our nation-building and march right back into Griffenheim again. With the results we’ve had so far, you can imagine he has plenty of supporters.”

They both found their way to the end of the hall and Clara pointed to the fancier-looking setup of banners at the far-end of the square.

“There’s the industrialists and technocrats of the Right-NRP lead by Heinrich Kingfeather. I might hate his guts – and the world would be a better place with “pragmatic” aristocrat-apologists like him hanged from a tree – but he’s using his ill-gotten wealth to keep liberty alive. I guess the fact I'm willing to work with his ilk is the real power of the republic. There’s even some anarchists sprinkled in. I honestly can’t understate how universally hated the 986 Act really is. If it was tabled by anyone else – or if the cause of Griffonian Liberation were any less under threat by banditry and traitors – we would have tried and hanged President Kemerskai for treason against the Republic.”

Clara stopped at a set of doors leading into the meeting room and turned to Tanya.

“In short, the horrific violations of our civil rights are reasonable because we knowingly accept that burden for the future liberty of the griffon race. The legal power we granted the President is something we can entrust because he knows we can take those powers back by force if necessary. These rallies are to remind him of his duty. I will not let another Emperor Grover rule me. Not while I draw breath!”

“I would appreciate it if you would keep rhetoric like that to outside the palace, if you could?”

They both turned around to see that President Kemerskai himself was holding the door open for both of them to come in. The brown-feathered older griffon had a look of consternation. Tanya paled in worry, but Clara grinned.

“My parents hid in the cellar of our squat little homestead back in the 980s while the army did all the dirty work freeing us from tyranny. I’ve had enough hiding from what’s right. I know we’ve had these protests for most of my life now, but us citizens are no less passionate about freedom! We’ll fight and die if we have to.”

A laugh from inside echoed as Schnabel Sunglider made himself known. The silver-feathered war-hero tried to sound friendly, but the thick leather patch covering his left eye made him look intimidating regardless of his mood.

“Quite right! It’s as the saying goes: ‘The Tree of Harmony is watered by the Blood of Patriots’. While we might all wish that a little less blood was needed, liberty and freedom are ideals worth any price.”

President Kemerskai coughed awkwardly into a claw and gestured to inside the room.

“Yes, well I think it’s clear that this blood-pumping Republican fervor is sure to continue keeping me in line. Why don’t the two of you have a seat and we can get started.”

Clara nodded and walked towards the large table at the center of the room. Like the knights of Ancient Griffonia, they sat as equals around a circular table. Being the last ones in, Clara got the seat closest to the door and furthest from the President, with Tanya next to her. Clara did not mind. She had chosen to come last on purpose.

‘Staying a few more minutes riling up the crowd outside and getting the Voice of the Socialists heard is far more important than this boring meeting. Since we only have a few percent of the votes, nogriff here will listens to what we have to say; just token acknowledgment of our potential to cause trouble. Of course, that means the rest of the Party conveniently had other things to do today and I got stuck with coming here.’

It was the real reason that Rikard Astler was not here. Even his Chief of Propaganda or somegriff more “political” would have been a better choice than Tanya. No one in the party was expecting much from the debate.

She looked to Tanya.

‘Although… with her here, perhaps this meeting will be a little more interesting.’





Oct 8th, 1002 ALB – Republican Palace Council Chamber, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Tanya POV

‘While I hate to say anything… nice about the socialists, I can say that there’s absolutely no way I would be seated at this table without them.’

In the room with her were the leaders of the nation; of the 4 million citizens of the Griffonian Republic. While there was no “head” of the round table, there was a clear division. On the one side was the President himself, surrounded by the government ministers, the Chief of Staff Reinhard Suntail and Vice President Schnabel Sunglider. To the left were the generals and aids to the war ministry. On the right, the civilian party representatives included Heinrich Kingfeather: the leader of the Right NRP.

‘What I don’t understand is what the Democratic Socialists are doing here. They haven’t done anything productive; thank goodness for that! Apart from setting up a few tiny, inconsequential Co-Ops and distributing their “literature”, anti-Skynavian laws and investigative journalism have kept them well away from the weak worker unions. That’s meant that the only real achievements for the party have been my own, and I can attest there’s nothing socialist about that!’

With everygriff seated, President Kemerskai was quick to bang a gavel which quickly quieted the griffons seated at the table.

“Let the 184th session of the Presidential Council convene. As many will no doubt expect, the primary focus will once again be on the North and dealing with the crisis of banditry and warlords hiding in the mountains. The purpose here will once again be finding a bipartisan solution to the issue. I ask the Council to please remain quiet while I have our experts give the facts of this matter. We will discuss our potential future actions to take when they are done. I’ll start us off with the Militia Organization Chief Schwartsen Eckleburg to detail the current situation to us.”

The next fifteen minutes detailed a summary of the military and socioeconomic factors of the banditry.

There were now 43,614 militia operating out of the 119 villages and urban areas north of the Squark-Bleakspire Line holding the territory against the bandits which had 337 casualties and 842 new or returning members. This was in spite of a recent downturn of attacks. The projections even had all banditry being quashed by the end of 1003.

There were 82,372 enlisted members of the armed forces with most units missing equipment needed to be fully combat effective thanks to modernization efforts. Some of the militia and infantry were stuck still using muskets from half a century ago, but it was better than nothing. The pre-980 imperial cannons had been fully scrapped, but only 120 of the 440 artillery needed to fully equip the army were ready.

The cruiser and destroyer the Republic had captured with Winghagen in 980 were still undergoing refits but their first submarine was about one quarter complete. The Admirals were confident that the navy could protect trade against attacks by the Kingdom of Vedina, but little else. The only hope to expand the fleet was to rely on submarines and Jeune École in case of any engagement with Feathisia or Skyfall.

Finally, the Fluggerät Heureka Empire-model fighter bi-plane purchased from Skyfall completed trials. But it was clear from the hesitation of everygriff in the room that there was no desire to begin a serious production campaign.

‘It’s understandable… the military budget is already 23.4% of GDP! The fact the country’s economy hasn’t completely collapsed is only by sheer will.’

The final discussion on the sociological causes of banditry seemed to fall apart as soon as the topic began. There were tenuous links to the Sunstriker Clan that raided the eastern border, the Skynavian traitors in the north as well as simply opportunistic natives that sought profit amid the chaos. The only member of the government that seemed to make any progress on that front was General Claus Rosewing who had been sent there after “disagreements” with the administration. That a rogue agent could do better than the entire Department of Intelligence despite the latter working on it exclusively for several months had the entire council up in arms. The only thing they could even report on since the last meeting was that the completion of the Windford railway had reduced banditry in the region to almost zero. Apparently, the consequence of an improved logistic chain no longer enabled easy raiding.

Kemerskai hit his gavel again on the table.

“Thank you all for your patience, I now release the floor to the council to-”

Chief of Staff Reinhard Suntail interrupted the President. The blue griffon snapped his wings out as he stood.

“Me. I would like to once again propose building a railway to Lostgate in the north. We just heard the benefit Windford had with theirs. It is high time we open up better trade with the city. A military garrison there supplied by the railway would keep the surroundings clear of bandits and-”

Armaments Minister Erich Kreiger interrupted him with a slam of the table, the portly griffon's bulk making an audible groan of the table.

“And nothing. We have a bad enough iron-shortage as it is without dumping thousands of tons of it into steel production for your boondoggle.”

Suntail pointed at the minister with accusation.

“Oh, not like your railroad to Windford?”

Erich rubbed his eyes in frustration. The dark bags made it clear the man had little sleep recently.

“The Windford railroad allowed us to expand iron mining there. Unlike Windford, the Cloudbury river flows through Lostgate; we can already ship its iron by barge, but Windford’s river flows into the Empire. Yes, the citizens paid a heavy price for that loss of weapons production while we constructed that railroad, but we are now on our way to finally having an iron surplus for the first time since our liberation of Cloudbury! Until the mines in Windford start giving us a surplus again, we need that iron for the military!”

Suntail curled his thin mustache with an annoyed look.

“Typical of you to only think of profits. We could just purchase iron from any of our neighbors but that would require your businesses to dip into their savings.”

Erich looked to the Chief of Staff with anger, his jowls vibrating with rage.

“What savings?! Are you saying my annual account statements are fraudulent?! Every pfennig is re-invested!”

The President slammed his gavel.

“Enough. Chief of Staff Suntail, your comments are unjustified. If you can provide some evidence that the cost of a railroad would outweigh the benefit of firearms and artillery made from those resources, you can submit it. That was what got the last railroad made and it will get any future infrastructure plans approved. This country won’t survive unless we are making the best use of our resources.”

Suntail scowled. He leaned over to Kemerskai and whispered something in his ear, but otherwise said nothing more. A dark look came over the President but he said nothing.

Clara knocked on the table, getting the attention of everygriff there.

“If we’re talking about the ‘best use of resources’ then what about our people! That seems to be missing from the equation. While you might be pushing hard to eliminate banditry, you seem to be ignoring the death your mismanagement is creating! Suicide is up 600% and workplace injuries are up over 1000% since last year. Disease and illness rates have been increasing by over 10% every year and you best not think I forgot the Cavegrove massacre! You want threats, what about the very livelihoods of the people! You’re pushing workers too hard!”

Erich Kreiger pointed to her.

“Get that sanctimonious crap out of here?! If you’ve got it all figured out, then fix it!”

Erich gestured to Tanya.

“That’s something your colleague seems to understand. At the end of the day, I don’t care how, but we need as much guns and ammunition as we can make! Tens of thousands die every year to bandits and it will only get worse! We talked about the casualties in the militia, but we had 985 casualties just this month from banditry! And that was the best month on record! Everything you’re talking about would require perpetual funding to maintain, it would be a permanent drain on the nation. The need for guns and ammunition lasts until the bandit problem is solved. When the bandit problem is solved, then we talk about pushing workers a little “less hard”.” 

Clara sat back with a look of disgust.

“That makes you little better than the bandits you purport to fight. You’re trading the lives of our citizens for bandits on the off-chance it may save more lives. That’s cold calculus. It’s evil. If you care about the bandits so much, we should be trying to end things peacefully with them! Solve the root-causes of the bandits rather than just treating the symptoms. The government is neglecting the poor and marginalized Cloudburians who cannot even talk with you because you don’t even speak their language! I hope I don’t need to provide “evidence” of that either, what with Cloudbury teeming with refugees being marginalized as we speak!”

Erich’s beak grinding on itself made an audible noise as his rage boiled over.

“Are you suggesting collusion?! These are vicious murderers! You can’t negotiate with terrorists!”

Clara pointed to the President.

“Apparently we’re fine with Rosewing’s collusion, but my suggestions are a step to far?!”

Erich threw some of the papers on his part of the table in Clara’s direction.

“You-”

Kemerskai pounded his gavel on the table.

“Enough! Stop it, all of you! Clara, we’ve tried to make inroads in the past but the political situation up north is too complicated for any one solution. There’s foreign interference, greed, political differences… Rosewing was our answer to that, but it’s clear that uniting the bandits under a warlord is not the solution we had in mind. That’s why we need to be careful.”

Heinrich Kingfeather stood up.

“I agree with our President and Armaments Minister in this. The benefits to pushing back the bandits are not something that can just be calculated by lives lost. Think of the stability of the nation. This is security and safety for people to live and work without fearing for their lives. While we in the south might be pushed harder than ever, it’s having a noticeable impact on the north! Productivity and infrastructure developments have been at a all-time high and those statistics you mentioned have all gone down in those regions.”

The argument did not end there, of course. The Council descended into bickering as Clara – the workers’ representative – fought with the united front aligned against her.

Tanya sat back for a few minutes unsure what to do to take advantage of the situation.

‘Hmm… as much as I love a socialist losing a debate, Clara’s only completely derailing he meeting. At this rate nothing would get done… I suppose this would be a good moment for a middle-of-the-road approach.’

Tanya thought for a moment before raising a claw.

“I’ve a suggestion, if that’s alright.”

Everygriff paused. Heinrich Kingfeather mumbled something into the President’s ear who lit up in response.

“Ah, Heinrich’s new favorite socialist! I was told you were young, but I had not realized… honestly, I had thought Rikard Astler was making some sort of statement by having a chick take his seat on the Council. Well, what have you got to add? I can’t imagine that it could be any less productive than this argument already is.”

Tanya groaned.

‘I wish somegriff would realize I’m not a socialist… have I been too subtle?’

It was a difficult game to play when she had been unable to get another job lined up. If she pushed too hard to sing capitalism’s praises, she would just find herself on the street again. Her current strategy of undermining the socialist cause from within had been making progress, but it was clear that the other parties were no closer to accepting her as one of their own.

“I was thinking that perhaps the Democratic Socialist Party can put actions to words. Obviously these arguments are not ever going to go anywhere without proof. Why not have the government fund a new factory; I imagine there is already one in the works, Armaments Minister Kreiger?”

He gave Tanya a skeptical look.

“Of course. The construction of the new Artillery Works is close to completion. We will soon be able to double the production of artillery barrels to 16 per month thanks to the aforementioned iron coming in from Windford.”

Tanya pointed to Clara.

“Then perhaps the government would be willing to help us prove the superiority of socialism by handing over the operation of the factory to us?”

Rather than the anger she expected, Erich just seemed confused.

“Are you kidding? This is a pretty bad joke if you are.”

Tanya smiled.

‘The first rule of negotiation is to start high and be talked down to something more “reasonable”. What I’m really after is a way to undermine the socialist cause. Since it’s self-evidently impossible for them to run a business better than the best capitalists, this proof will stop its spread before it’s too late.’

Tanya had seen the so-called “Workers’ Councils” running the various co-ops and cottage industries set up by the Left-NRP. They had no oversight, with workers only working 4-hour days and spending most of their time talking or working on personal projects. They were little more than a hobby group masquerading as a business.

The President nodded.

“It isn’t a bad idea.”

Erich was in shock and stood up from his seat.

“What in Boreas’ name are you talking about, President Kemerskai?! That factory is something I’ve been planning for over a year!”

The President raised his claws in surrender.

“Ah, my apologies; that came out wrong. The idea has merit is what I meant, but most certainly not for use in a brand new factory. It would hardly be a good test. If it did better than your other factory, it could be because of your own planning or the new technologies involved. No, we should have them take ownership of one of your other factories.”

Erich choked out a growl.

“I refuse. Their entire ideology is clearly a farcical mess of moralism trumping common sense.”

Tanya stifled a nod.

‘That’s something we can both agree on.’

Clara, however, looked smug.

“Excuses, excuses. You just don’t want to give us an opportunity to prove you wrong. When our methods produce results, it would prove that the whip-and-slave methods in your factories was just misery without a purpose.”

The President looked to Erich with a raised eyebrow.

“Well? She’s right that we can never prove her wrong without evidence.”

Erich clenched a clawed fist tight enough to change color.

“One factory: the 3rd Munitions Plant in Squark. The owner’s incompetent and I’ve yet to find a good replacement. You’ll be given the same contract as anygriff else. When you fail, I expect the Democratic Socialist Party to shut up for these meetings or disband. I’ve had enough of your complaints.”

Tanya nodded with a smile.

‘I’m glad he’s realized my hidden motivation. Don’t worry Erich, I’ll prove your trust was not unfounded. There’s no way for this plan to succeed.’

Clara also smiled with a clear sense of superiority.

“Oh we’ll shut up alright, but only because our actions will do the talking.”

The President banged his gavel before the arguments could go on any longer.

“Then – for once – we have a bipartisan decision regarding the banditry problem… no matter how far removed it is from solving the issue. The Left NRP will work with Minister Kreiger on the details for taking ownership of the Squark factory.”

With another bang of the gavel, he took out a piece of paper off the table.

“Next on the docket is energy. Specifically our work in setting up electrical and telegraph wiring along the railroads. General Karl Vettericht? I believe it was your department in the war ministry that was in charge of the installation? General Vettericht?”

While Tanya did not know the General, the faces all turning to a brown-feathered griffon made it clear who they were talking to. The griffon in question seemed distracted by something on the radio which he was listening to with headphones. It did appear he could hear the President, however, because he took one of the earpieces off to respond.

“Sorry Marshal Kemerskai I’ve- hold on… yes… Sorry sir, we have a situation in the West. A barracks of the 3rd Infantry Division in Bleakspire was just attacked. We’ve sent reinforcements but-”

President Kemerskai got up off his seat.

“What?! No recall those reinforcements immediately!”

The General seemed confused.

“Marshal, sir? If there’s been an attack, the doctrine states that-”

Kemerskai shook his head.

“The war doctrine is to reinforce against a surprise attack. This isn’t an invasion from Vedina is it?”

The General grimaced.

“Bandits sir, probably to raid the armory.”

The President rushed over to the General.

“Damnit! They aren’t there to raid the armory! Think! There is a less well-defended armory in Lostgate, why didn’t they attack that? No, somehow they knew we would pull out forces from here in Cloudbury, the next attack would be-”

Bang. Ba-ba-bang. Boom.

A series of dull thuds reverberated throughout the building. The sounds were quickly followed by the staccato of machine-gun and rifle fire. All the attendees quickly rose from their seats as realization set in.

The General brought a clawed hand to his face to cover his shame.

“-They would attack us here in Cloudbury. Do you want my resignation sir or-”

The President brought a clawed limb down hard on the generals withers.

“You followed procedure. I had never thought the bandits would be this bold, so get to work. Organize the 8th, 9th and 11th Infantry Divisions to mount a defense. All claws on deck. You can pull the 5th off the border with Strawberry as well. By the time the Empire can even think of trying to capitalize on all this, it will be over.”

The President turned to the rest of the representatives in the room.

“In return, I expect barricades on every street, a rifle in every claw. If the bandits have the gall to dare strike at us right now, it’s proof the past few months of reduced activity was just them biding time and gathering their forces.”

Everygriff calmly nodded and went about carefully packing their things.

‘What is everygriff doing?! There’s fighting just outside! We need to run!’

Of course, Tanya knew she could not let herself be the only one panicking and so kept her emotions from showing on her face.

Vice-President Sunglider chuckled.

“A citizen’s militia? Ho ho, I never thought I’d ever see the day again. You must be serious.”

Kemerskai growled.

“I’ve had it with these damn bandits. It’s time the citizens take their country back.”

Tanya did not hear anything else as Clara grabbed her by the claw and bodily forced her out of the room. The adult griffon took out a pistol she had tucked in a holster underneath her wing  and gave it to her.

“Here, you can have this. I’ll want you by my side until we get back to Headquarters and I can get a spare weapon from one of the Red Guard.”

Tanya stared at the weapon with a dumb expression. It was the first time in either of her lives she had ever held a gun.

“W-what? Why are you giving me this?”

Clara looked down at her with a soft expression. The action was somewhat undermined by the sound of bullets echoing in the distance.

“Ah, right. You wouldn’t remember. The President’s called a citizen's militia. That means unless you’re working, you need a gun and a station. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure to find you somewhere close to HQ so you don’t need to go very far.”

Tanya’s brain stopped.

“But that would mean I would have to fight!”

Clara smiled and ruffled her feathers.

“Yeah, isn’t it great?! You got those stuffy politicians to finally give us a project to show our stuff and now we can do the same on the battlefield! I know you’re probably itching to prove yourself, but try not to run off and bag a few bandits on your own alright? You’ve probably never even had proper combat training!”

As Tanya was hauled away by the exuberant Hen, her mind was racing a mile a minute.

‘No, no, no! I joined a political party to avoid becoming a soldier! Damn it, if I knew this was going to happen, I would have signed myself into the nearest recruiting station! At least I could have gone to officer’s school and taken a few years of education. This isn’t supposed to happen!’
> 5 - The Civilian Militia
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Government Reshuffling Amid Worst Terror Attack in Years

Not since the attacks in 986 – in the wake of being abandoned by the Skynavian Communists – has the nation reeled from such a violent assault by bandits and traitors. After the ruthless and coordinated strikes on Cloudbury, Bleakspire, Cavegrove, Windford and Lostgate two weeks ago, the nation can finally breathe a sigh of relief that the worst is over. Over 6,000 patriots have lost their lives in brutal street-to-street fighting that still rages on in some places. But while the casualties rate falls, questions remain about how such a decisive strike could have gone unnoticed.

In an address to the nation from the Republican Palace on October 19th, President Kemerskai stated that agents working to spy on several known bandit enclaves were double-agents feeding false information for several months leading up to the attack. Several officials from the Department of Intelligence – including Head of Intelligence Markus Falk – have since resigned or been forced to step down for their failure in detecting the plot. The President has since called for a political “armistice” from the National Republican Parties to suspend political infighting and join in the efforts to protect working citizens vital to the stability of the Republic and destroy the bandits as part of the newly re-assembled Citizen’s Militia. - See page 2 for more

- Headline article on the front page of the Griffonian Republic National Newspaper, Der Republifaner (3rd Week of October 1002 Edition)





October 18th, 1002 – Clawthorne Street Barricade, Cloudsbury, Griffonian Republic – Tanya POV

‘What did I do to deserve this?!’

It had been two weeks, but that was more than enough time for Tanya to be thrown into one of the hundreds of hastily-assembled militias. The “Citizen Militia” was different than ordinary ones. The dozen of regular “Republican Army Militia” divisions that had been in place since the Republic’s founding were defensive units made up of trained citizens that regularly rotated out from a reserve-like organization every few months on a volunteer basis. They were competent soldiers who worked full-time for the military and were only different from the normal infantry in their role and workload. Citizen Militia, however, were decidedly not trained soldiers. They were given a week of basic combat drills with wooden sticks instead of rifles and only a ⅓ or ¼ of them were ever given a gun, with most guns being inferior “needle” rifles which required the use of hand-rolled powder cartridges. Needless to say in a real battle, they were little better than cannon fodder.

Thankfully that lack of equipment also worked in Tanya’s favor.

‘Just like in office work, the best plan to avoid doing the terrible jobs is to be proactive and keep busy doing the less bad ones! By being the first to build a barricade or hand out food to everygriff, I’m showing I’m useful, but I’m also creating an excuse when the dangerous work comes around. “I’m too tired or busy to stay for guard duty, honest!”’

That was why instead of being stuck guarding some hastily-assembled palisade and waiting to be killed, Tanya was pushing along a cart laden with pots filled with soup down a street. Her task for the night was to deliver food to the front line fools stuck with the unenviable task of fighting bandits with hand-me-downs.

‘Still, I have to find a way to improve my own situation in some way or I really might be another in a long line of causalities. If this situation doesn’t end, I need some other way out of the Civilian Militia… but without looking like a traitor.’

It was a careful balance. Many griffons had been hanged in public in the first few days for disobeying orders, theft, or deserting from the militia. What’s worse was that the rest of the citizens cheered on their demise. It was proof that her “fellow citizens” would not empathize with her desire to survive and it was doubtful they would see her age as anything but a liability. Her age did not matter during her time in the slums and she was not going to test that now. Mob rule had set in and she was along for the ride until she could find some way out. Unfortunately, there was no legal way out of a citizen militia duty except “essential work”. With President Kemerskai’s pause on political activity, she no longer qualified. The L-NRP headquarters had been closed until further notice and even her boss – Rikard Astler – had been given a rifle and put in charge of a company of civilians.

As Tanya arrived at the barricade she was assigned to give food, she shook her head. She had a job to do and she could not be seen as being anything but a loyal and useful non-combat member of the militia. Her life depended on it!

The “barricade” on the southern entrance to Cloudbury along Clawthorne street hardly lived up to the name. Simple wooden chairs, rocks, tree branches and other debris had been piled to block the road. It was little more than a speed bump to a modern truck or tank, but thankfully the bandits had neither. It would serve its purpose as hurdle to climb and cover to shoot from. Combined with the houses spanning in either direction, a “wall” had been formed which bandits – having few explosives and no artillery – would find difficult to overcome.

That feeling of relative safety was mitigated somewhat by the time of day. It was evening, and the food she was bringing was dinner. With their position in the time of year, the days were growing shorter and despite the 6pm meal, the sun was already setting. The chill and darkness had put everygriff on edge. It was the perfect time for an attack: just dark enough to put their illuminated city positions at a disadvantage, but not so dark that the enemy would struggle to move around without lights of their own.

Having seen her arrival, one matronly older griffon raced towards her.

“Aren’t you just a little angel, chick, thank you but I think one of us adult griffons should take care of this.”

Tanya’s smile was brittle.

‘I can’t let her do that! What if the fighting starts and they see me just standing around?’

Tanya could not return to the barracks without her cart – she would be accused of theft! – and she could not trust any of these griffons not to rat her out to the authorities if she was any less than utterly loyal. What that meant was different for every person and she was not willing to budge an inch. Grabbing possessive hold of the pots and utensils, she desperately thought of what to say.

“I’ll handle it! Please, it’s the least I can do for all you incredible patriots!”

An older griffon male nearby laughed.

“Hear that Grelda, you’re a patriot! I didn’t know they let old hens become patriots!”

Grelda huffed.

“Shut it, Frederick. You should talk a little nicer to your wife. I’ll have you know I voted once, that counts for something.”

The husband grinned.

“Ha! It counts the number of years you’ve been alive. At least 16 by my reckoning.”

They continued to bicker and Tanya was glad for the distraction. Ignoring them, she poured out ladles of soup into bowls. A line begins to form as everygriff shows themselves to be eager for a break and food from what was no doubt a miserable evening of fear and paranoia. Tanya was once again reminded she had chosen wisely to push for jobs away from the fighting. It also reminded her that she could not waste time and needed to quickly make her way back to the rear!

One of the griffons in the line yelled out across the crowd.

“What’s on the menu today?”

Grelda looked at soup.

“Looks like stewed prawns from Winghagen! Can’t say it’s my favorite, but it’s been long enough I might have changed my mind.”

Frederick nudged into his wife.

“Ha! Like you would ever pass up on free food.”

Grelda scowled.

“That’s because your cooking’s a disaster! I’d eat scraps off the street before that slop!”

Everygriff nearby laughed at the antics of the two, but Tanya was not amused. With the chit-chatter escalating, they were slow to get their food. She was not allowed to return until the pots were empty and she certainly could not head back until the crowd of hungry griffons were given every scrap she had. Not without them rioting and tearing her apart, at least.

Tanya yelled out to them.

“I know some seafood gets better cold, but I don’t think you’ll want to find out if prawns are one of them!”

That seemed to dampen the mood a little, but it did hurry the line along a little faster too. As the time went on and the line got smaller and smaller, Tanya got a little more comfortable and began to make small-talk with the others. While she certainly did not lose her razor-focus on quickly finishing the food and running away, she also knew that being silently asocial was not going to Signal the right things to them in case her survivalist mindset accidentally leaked out. She had been fearful when Grelda had stayed by her side over the past hour. Despite Tanya’s insistence that she do all the work, the elderly griffon had been hounding her to take over once she had finished with her bowl and had placed it back on the cart. While Tanya could empathize – no doubt the older griffon was desperate to do some easy work – Tanya refused to give her the one task separating her from the front lines.

Tanya turned to Grelda and Frederick who were sitting nearby.

“So, no news is good news, right? I’m sure you’re still glad for a break, though.”

Frederick grimaced.

“No news is normally bad news, actually. The bandits might not be organized, but they don’t hit the same places twice. A small engagement is the best relief. It means you won’t be attacked for a while. This barricade hasn’t been hit since we put it up so-”

He was smacked in the back of the head by his wife.

“Damn it Fred! You don’t need to say that to a chick. Don’t worry about him, deary. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about-”

The sharp crack of a gunshot rang out. A griffon manning the “wall” had shot their rifle into the distance. In response a dozen rifles returned fire, their shots echoing off the poor masonry of the houses nearby as they impacted.

“We’re under attack!”

In an instant, the camaraderie was gone and the crowd of griffons rushed to-and-fro colliding into one another or stumbling to the ground in their desperation to get back to their positions. In their panic, the cart and its pots were thrown over, the remains of its contents spilling on the ground.

Despite the desperate situation, Tanya was internally glad in a small way. With the panic and the empty pots, she can return with news of the attack without looking like a coward. She just needed to get the pots put away and-

Grelda and Frederick grabbed a couple of the pots and placed them on the cart with her. The old hen smiled.

“Don’t worry chick. We’ll clean this up. You get going, you don’t need to stick around here!”

Tanya looked back in shock. She knew a trap when she heard it.

‘No… that was her goal all along, wasn’t it?! Trying to help with the food, sticking around this whole time, she saw a weak little chick – a mark – and she took the opportunity. To the crowd, Glenda and her husband might look to be a pair of old fools willing to help out a chick out of the “goodness of her heart”, but the truth is obvious! If they take the pots and pans back and warn of the attack, they can just say the “traitorous chick” handing out food broke ranks and fled the moment fighting started! A convenient excuse that gets her away from the fighting all without any risk to herself! Had I really been the age I look, I would have fallen for it too.’

Tanya considered just following them back with the food and telling her side of the story… but she needed to only glance at the rifles on the backs of the two elderly griffons’ backs. Nothing would stop them going down a dark alley out-of-sight and removing any unflattering witnesses. Had they been a little less insistent on helping her, it might have been a gamble worth taking considering the alternative, but she grew up in the local slums her entire life. She knew the people that lived here; none of those griffons would be that generous without some sort of ulterior motive.

With Plan A out of the question now, she had to resort to Plan B.

In an instant, her view of the situation shifted. She could not flee the battlefield anymore, instead she had to minimize risk using the Griffon Resources at her disposal. Looking to her meatshields “allies” nearby, she was not impressed. Despite the battle having started over a minute earlier, the initial chaos had hardly abated.

‘Damn it! Hardly anygriff is doing their job! Half of the militia is cowering in fear and can barely hold their rifles straight! The other half is completely ignoring their training! They’re doing nothing to suppress the enemy and are just taking occasional pot-shots and taking their sweet time to reload! Is this the same group that I saw go through the combat courses in record time?!’

Part of the reason she had not deserted despite the risks was that the militia had seemed so competent in training. It was clear that practice and the real thing were completely different. At this rate, the position would be overrun and her along with it.

First she needed to set the record straight with Grelda and her husband. The last thing she needed was them shooting her in the back as they fled.

“I’m not a coward! I’m not going to run away while patriots are risking their lives!”

She did not wait for a response – they would not dare to risk silencing her with all the witnesses around – but turned around and rushed to one of the meatshields militia cowering in a nearby alleyway. The teenager’s rifle had been left on the ground and he was covering his ears with his claws to ignore the sounds of gunfire. It had been one of the griffons she noticed had taken a little longer than necessary “enjoying” his food and staying off the picket line on the wall. Tanya looked down in disgust and grabbed at the griffon’s claws. With them away from his ears, he would have no trouble hearing what she had to say.

“Damn it! Are you a chicken?! The enemy’s going to kill all the friends you just made today! Are you going to just let that happen?!”

The griffon’s tear-streaked face looked up in fear.

“B-but the bandits… what can I do to-”

Tanya did not let the whimpering idiot prattle on and slammed his rifle’s butt into his stomach, causing him to double-over.

“You can do something! You went through the combat training, you can hold a rifle, what’s stopping you?! You think when the peasants charged the imperial Palace, that they ever questioned what they could do?! They fought soldiers with pitchforks and you’re cowering away with your rifle because of a couple bandits?!”

The griffon was recovering from the hit and looked up at her with rage. But just as quickly as it came, it went. The griffon balled up a clawed fist.

“D-Damn it, damn it! You … you don’t need to tell me that! I- I’m not a coward!”

Grabbing his rifle, he rushed back to the wall and Tanya nodded at his retreating form.

‘I’m glad that the feeling of self-preservation is just as strong with griffons as it was with humans. Now, what other idiots can I find…’





Over the next half-hour she busied herself with whipping the cowards and idiots into the meatshields militia they were supposed to be. She was paradoxically happy with many failures she found. They were risking her life, but they also kept her busy – and off the front line – while the battle intensified. But casualty rate began to mount as the bandits came closer and closer, and with greater numbers. First 10, then 100, then more. The 300-or-so militia and the simple cover of the barricade only worked so well. While few were actually dying, the moans of the injured and the cries of panic started to rise. It looked like a losing battle and her efforts were not having as much impact as she needed if the wall was going to hold out much longer.

The worst was the sight of a griffon shaking while she tried and failed to load a stripper-clip into their Hinterladerbüchse Model 98 rifle. While most of the army was still using beat-up needle-guns and paper cartridges that were a half-century old, here was a griffon with the latest rifle fresh from the armory and fumbling with it like a newborn. Tanya grabbed the thing of her hands and jammed the clip in. With a cycle of the bolt action, she threw it back with frustration.

“You’re a patriot! Trust in each other and you can survive a thousand battles. “The Peoples’ Power is Unity”, isn’t that right! You’ve got the best rifle in the army in your claws, what’s there to fear?”

The griffon straightened up.

“Right!”

As she started marching down the line, she was noticing that the griffons manning the barricade were keeping their heads down amid the shots coming their way. The rounds whizzed by, colliding with the barricade or the buildings behind them. Most of the militia was no longer firing back and it was clear that the few which were still in the fight were no longer effective in keeping the bandits pinned down. Through small gaps in the wall, she could see that the bandit dead were no longer in the distant treeline but in the open field. It would only take one determined charge to overrun their lines.

Tanya yelled out after them.

“What are you doing with your heads down?! The bandits are running towards you through a killing field right now! Should I mark on your tombstones that your commitment to protecting your homes was less than a ragtag group of bandits?!”

The words were not getting through. While several took a few more shots at her words, they were quick to go back to cowering in fear; a fear that was spreading. Tanya knew that more brow-beating was not going to do any good. She needed to change up her tactics, but she could not think of what to do.

‘How do you get through to idiots with no self-preservation? No reward could possibly be better than staying alive, so what could I give them that would motivate them any further? No punishment would be greater than the risk of death either… so what…’

She looked around for inspiration. The street – which had once seen the merry crowd of griffons line up for food – had now been turned into a makeshift field hospital. Griffons were laid out on the ground and were just waiting until the bandits were defeated or a military unit relieved their position. Without that, nogriff had the time to cart them back to a hospital to be treated, not when the position was on the brink of collapse. Instead their wounds were hastily tended to with strips of cloth…

‘Strips of cloth… I remember that from somewhere. A war movie about a last stand…’

She had a glimpse of inspiration and she quickly rolled with it. Rushing down the street, she barged into one of the empty homes and ripped out a pair of orange curtains keeping the light out of a nearby window. She then looked around an found a corpse on the wall with a yellow jacket. Carefully pretending to pull the griffon off the lines like a casualty to be treated, Tanya dragged the body into a nearby alleyway and – once she was out of view of their compatriots – took the jacket off. She did not want anygriff thinking she was planning to steal it!

With the cloth and her experience mending and washing clothes from her odd jobs, she took out a needle and thread and haphazardly stitched the jacket to the curtains. It did not look pretty, but from what she remembered from the film, it did not need to look good. Part of the point was that the flag needed to look as worn and haphazard as possible. For some reason, the critics raved that it added “power” and “authenticity” to the scene, although she did not understand why.

Grabbing her makeshift Griffonian Republic flag, she attached it to a nearby branch that had fallen from the barricade. Raising the banner up, she marched out of the alleyway and waved it in the air. She ran up and down the line, yet despite the fact that several of the griffons could see it, they did not seem to be any more motivated than before.

‘Damn it! What am I doing wrong? Just showing the flag alone should have been enough, right? That’s what they did in the movie!’

If she understood why emotional nationalists and idiots enjoyed those scenes, she could have made corrections and adjusted her scheme, but this was about as far away from her understanding as she could get. Her first life had been filled with peace and her second one filled with refugees with little love for their nation. She was trying to be a cheerleader, but the “crowd” was not enjoying her “performance”-

‘That’s it! If I think of this like a stage act, I’m showing all the right visuals, but I’m missing the audio!’

Thankfully, she did not have to think much on what to say. The Republican Party Anthem was as close to a perfect fit as she could get, so she sang it at the top of her lungs:

“Then raise our golden standard high.
Within its shade we’ll live and die,
Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer,
We’ll keep the tricolor flyin’ here!”

Everygriff was either too busy fighting or in pain on the ground to respond and she felt her face burn up in humiliation. It was certainly not the type of song she would think was very motivating, but what did she know? She remembered a number of propaganda war movies having similar scenes of utterly embarrassing or uncomfortable dialog too, and most of them had done well at the box office.

She had to stake her life on the plan working! She rushed up to the wall and began frantically waving the banner for everygriff to see.

“The people’s flag: orange and yellow,
It shrouded oft our patriot fellow,
And ere their limbs grew stiff and cold,
Their beaks still match it’s ev’ry fold!”

It was a quiet murmur at first, but whether by genuine desire to sing the song or just rote instinct of having been forced to sing it dozens of times at various political rallies, the griffons started to sing.

““Then raise our golden standard high.
Within its shade we’ll live and die,
Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer,
We’ll keep the tricolor flyin’ here.””

A bullet whizzed by and hit the flag. A hole had formed near one of the seams and half of the thing had come undone. Tanya could feel her plan coming apart along with it, but she had to commit now. She could feel her eyes sting with tears as her body instinctively fought to get her out of the dangerous situation. Still she pressed on. If her meatshields allies did not somehow buy into the patriotic nonsense, she would be out of ideas! She would only be able to run and hope any witnesses died before she did.

‘Work, damn it, work!’

“Look ‘round, Hertzlanders love the hue,
Cloudburians sing its praises too,
On Weter’s shores its status soars,
It can’t help but cause a couple wars!”

A chuckle – whether out of manic fear or genuine amusement – broke out among some of the fighters. While they still had a look of fear on them, the few still huddling behind cover were no longer shaking. What surprised Tanya, however, was that some of the wounded began to sit up on their blankets thrown on the ground. Perhaps they had some understanding of her scheme and their survival instinct from their wounds were kicking in? Despite the wounds, they loudly yelled out.

““Then raise our golden standard high.
Within its shade we’ll live and die,
Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer,
We’ll keep the tricolor flyin’ here!””

Tanya’s face loosened as a broad smile came across it. Her plan was working! She frantically waved the flag in the air to the point that one-third of the stitches were almost completely undone and was barely hanging by a thread. The griffons fighting on the wall were starting to look more serious now and no longer remained huddled in the safety of their cover.

““It well recalls the triumphs past,
It gives the hope of peace at last;
The banner bright, no symbols mar,
Griffonian freedom near and far!””

Tanya’s smile soon faltered when she saw a griffon fleeing down a nearby alleyway. It looked like the right flank was collapsing and a few of the militia were fleeing! A bandit broke through the lines and turned her way. In a panic she dropped the flag and looked around. She quickly spotted a rifle and grabbed it.

*BANG*

She felt blood and was glad when the bandit’s shot went wide and hit a nearby militiagriff instead of her! With shaky claws, she spun around on the approaching griffon raider and shot a hole through them center mass.

““Then raise our golden standard high.
Within its shade we’ll live and die,
Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer,
We’ll keep the tricolor flyin’ here!””

The singing paused after the chorus as they saw that a bandit was within their own lines! Tanya was filled with dread.

‘This is it! They’re going to collapse! Damn it! Why didn’t I think of this sooner! I just needed a little more time and they could have lasted longer…’

But it was no use. She could see that the song was not restarting and many of the griffons that should have been manning the walls were staring at her in silence. Once of them yelled out through he din of gunfire and pointed into the distance with his rifle. Tanya recognized him as one of the teenagers she had whipped back into shape earlier.

“Our little bannergriff just killed a bandit! You just gonna let her do all the work for you?! We can’t let any more of them get through! FOR THE REPUBLIC!”

““FOR THE REPUBLIC!””

---

October 18th, 1002 – Clawthorne Street Barricade, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Rüdiger POV

In the twilight of evening, hundreds of griffons were flying north towards Cloudbury. Each was armed with a rifle and laden down with enough ammunition for three. There was no need for other supplies where they were going. Either the citizens they save would feed them or his unit would starve. One way or another, they would get what they deserve.

Major Rüdiger Ravenbeak was a dour griffon at the best of times; he would argue that it was just that sort of war he was fighting. With his black feathers, brown eyes, name and demeanor, he had been jokingly referred to as a “One Griffon Funeral” by his colleagues after a round of drinks. He did not let it get to him; he knew his flaws and focused on practical things instead. His cold exterior allowed his rare few words of praise or encouragement to be more meaningful; his few impassioned protests of an order taken more seriously. The lack of social interaction also allowed him more time to focus on planning and developing tactics and strategies, although at the expense of having the charisma to use his brilliant tactics to raise in the racks. It was fine. He did not need accolades or optimism, he just needed to get the job done.

News he had heard over an hour prior was enough to make him wonder if his outlook was wrong: Cloudbury was hit hard by a massive attack and militia all across the city were collapsing!

This would be worse than the attack that started this whole situation off two weeks ago. At that time, the city’s barracks was housing three Infantry Divisions – 18,000 of the Republic’s best equipped forces – and while the surprise had allowed the bandits to escape with few casualties, the attack had also been brief and with little damage beyond the loss of supplies. It would have been suicide for them to stay.

However, as the weeks went on and all across the nation, bandit attacks died down, the focus had shifted. It made sense. The bandits were disorganized and would have had significant difficulty handling the logistics to attack the more sparsely-defended south where most of the “wealth” they were searching for was located. With their surprise attack, they would need to regroup back in the north. It had been his job – and the job of every officer in the Republican Army – to keep them there; isolated and fighting in the north where the raids would be of lower value for the bandits. That sacrificed the already worn-down northerners to more attacks, but there was a cold logic to it. If the bandits realized they were fighting and dying for just a trickle of well-defended “plunder”, what little organization they had to maintain these aggressive attacks would collapse back into the sporadic fighting the nation was used to.

‘But the rest of the command didn’t see the things I was seeing. The bandits were planning something. More and more were caught sneaking aboard trains and boats. Raiding caravans and taking carts and wagons. Somehow they kept finding ways down south to gather and prepare. Just like the whole thing that started this, they’d all assumed that a lull in the fighting meant that they were failing, when in reality they were just planning their next decisive assault!’

With news of the attack, his 1000-griffon Battalion in the 9th Infantry Division was the closest to relieve the city; just as he had planned. He had no idea the strike would be in Cloudbury, but he used the excuse that his unit was still recovering from the initial assault two weeks ago to prepare a position that would be close to the major cities of Cloudbury, Winghagen or Kloborg. With fresh reinforcements and supplies, nogriff in the unit was anything less than eager to repay the bandits a hundredfold and his planning gave them a short train-ride and march to reach their objective.

‘Of course… even with all these advantages we’re never going to make it in time. 3 hours. 3 hours they would be holding against an all-out assault on the city with only 6,000 regular militia and 24,000 civilian militia to hold out. No artillery, no trenches. It sounds like a lot of forces… but the bandits would know that too. They wouldn’t commit to an attack unless they thought they could win, or win enough and escape intact. It would be block-to-block fighting of the worst kind. I’d seen it before: in Griffenheim, in Wurtenrest, in Vinnin and Cloudbury. Once the city periphery was breached, it comes down to brutal fighting at close-range where only grit and skill mattered. The peasants that had been conscripted into the army on either side… it was something that could aptly called “butchery”.’

He shook away his thoughts. He could not be distracted if he wanted to save the lives of his countrygriffs. He was only minutes away now and could see the city and hear the gunfire. With a wave of his wings and a series of signs of his claws, he signaled his forces to quickly descend and get ready for battle. It would not do them any good to engage while in the sky, especially this close to night where the sky was still illuminated but the ground was not.

When he landed, he waited a few minutes for the rest of his unit to get ready but every moment felt like hours. With the enemy already engaged with their attack, his assault would come as a shock and he needed the full weight to be felt for it to achieve the best results. Once he established a vitally important bridgehead in the city he could split his company up as needed to minimize the causalities as quickly as possible.

With the company all landed and over half of them ready, he did not waste any more time.

“1st, 2nd and 3rd Company will engage in a frontal attack. Rush in with machine-guns and mortar at the start to really shake them up, but check your targets once you reach the city limits. I do not need to tell you that friendly fire on civilians is not tolerated, am I understood?”

The captains of the platoons quickly saluted.

“”Yes, sir!””

With them gone, he turned to the rest of the captains and continued.

“4th Company will be in medical reserve. You have the best medical supplies of the Battalion so you’ll handle setting up the field hospital tent once we’ve gotten hold of part of the city and handling triage. Priority casevac will be given for any civilians with minor wounds that can’t be treated in the field, but don’t be hesitant to get as many out to the field hospital as possible. We… probably won’t have time for medevac until most of the city is secured, I… trust you will do your best to ensure that as many civilians are saved as possible.”

Casevac – casualty evacuation – meant getting the griffons that could live with their injuries for a couple hours or days in a tent and given the basic dressings, medicine to prevent infection or fever from turning their condition to something fatal, or removing limbs if the wounds were bad enough. While he had heard of new medical breakthroughs like “Penicillin” which limited the necessity of simple "cure-all amputations", the Republic was far from being in a state to have enough of it to make a difference to the average griffon.

Medevac – medical evacuation – meant getting somegriff who’s wounds would not last them more than an hour or two to a hospital for emergency treatment. Given that the hospital might not even be under control or that a path to the hospital might take hours to clear… there was a lot of griffons with otherwise treatable wounds that would never make it in time. It was something the Republic had learned the hard way and regularly drilled into them. Yet it was one thing to turn away a mortally wounded soldier that had volunteered and knew what they were getting into when they joined, it was another thing to see a wounded chick and let them die because there would not be enough time or supplies; not when the morphine and surgery could be used to save somegriff more likely to live.

The captains nodded slowly with hard looks, he did not need to say any more and the Captain of the 4th Company saluted and left. He focused on the remaining officers.

“5th Company will be the true reserve; fill the gaps in the other Companies unless I say otherwise. 6th Company will wait for my orders. With the city in a mess like it is, there should be plenty of opportunities to exploit. When I see it, I’ll have you crash into these godless griffons like Maar’s own.”

Just as the final officers nodded, he was interrupted by the Captain of the 1st Company rushing back to him in a breathless state. The Major grabbed the Captain by the withers and leaned into him.

“What in Arcturius’ name has you back already?! Your unit needs you and you have an aide if you need to clarify-”

Having caught his breath a little, the Captain grabbed hold of him in return.

“Damn it… Major! The bandits… have already… routed! We have… a foothold…!”

“What?!”

Grabbing a nearby set of binoculars, the Major leaped into the sky with a beat of his wings and he looked into the distance. The situation was exactly as the Captain said! The bandits on the southern edge of the city had never penetrated! The Republican flag was still waving over the barricades and the bandits were fleeing now that they had to contend with the better equipped regulars of his unit on open ground.

He wasted no time and had his Captains follow him into the city. With the situation so completely changed, he had to rethink his entire strategy.

““Then raise our golden standard high.
Within its shade we’ll live and die,
Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer,
We’ll keep OUR tricolor flyin’ here!””

As he approached, he could hear the citizens singing the party anthem. While the Republic technically did not have a national anthem – what with the lack of elections and bandits making any national unity a difficult pill to swallow for most – it was as close as most anthems got, but it was not well-received. His ordinary opinion of the song was that it was a little trite and bloodthirsty. Most soldiers he knew were not in the mood for more fighting and dying and otherwise thought the fervor of the melody in very poor taste. It sounded great the first time one heard it, but by the twentieth…

Today, it was the best damn song he had ever heard.

As he and his men landed among the cheering crowd, he noticed them all holding up a chick in their claws. While it had appeared to be that the chick was waving the flag when he saw them at a distance, now that he had come up-close, he could see that it looked more like she had little choice and looked desperate to be put back down.

The Major addressed the crowd.

“What happened?”

The crowd settled down and they spoke out with loud Cloudburian cries.

“We thought we’d all die, but the bannergriff kept us together!”
“She put the fear of Maar in me!”
“I told her to run, but she stuck around, called us patriots!”
“Never thought I’d fight for you Herzlanders, but I couldn’t let anygriff down, not with her at my back!”
“She fed us, then she kept us going!”

On and on it went. While he could not understand what most of the Cloudburians were saying – being a Hertzlander himself – he had picked up enough of the language to get the gist of it. Turning to the chick herself, the Major was surprised to hear her respond in his own language.

“I fought! I killed one of them. I might have not been on the front lines the whole time, but I helped! I swear!”

He was not normally one to get emotional – one could argue it was something wholly out-of-character for him to do so – but he found himself tearing up at her words.

‘Here’s a chick – a civilian that I failed to rescue in time – telling me she only regrets is that she wasn’t on the front lines more. That she was only able to unite the citizens and fend off the bandit attack, but even that was not enough.’

He did not need to look far to understand why she felt that way. Dozens of causalities; wounded and killed on sheets laid out in the middle of the road. He understood her immediately. He could stop every single bandit and save hundreds of lives today, but it would not be enough. He would have regrets about this day, but this chick had saved him from feeling more.

He turned to his soldiers.

“Clear the wounded and set up the damn field hospital! Get the 1st through 3rd Platoons into the city and linking up with the rest of the militia! We still have the element of surprise and I won’t squander this valuable opportunity these brave patriots made today!”

Turning back to the citizens, he smiled. It was an expression he was ill used to, but for once, optimism felt as natural to him as breathing.

“And get a band together! I want the party anthem sung from here to the Republican Palace! You griffons will get a front-row seat to the liberation of the city right next to me!”

The cheer went out, but he was acutely aware that the chick did not join them, instead she could barely hide the shock and anger. He knew what she was thinking, it was his own thoughts after all.

‘I can’t be on the front-lines, fighting to save the citizens like I had during the Revolution. I can’t be that lowly-corporal again, personally rescuing peasants from their tyrannical overlords and the very precipice of despair… but we all have our places. The strategies I make will save more lives than if I fought as a grunt, and the song of unity and strength this chick can sing will uplift the spirits of the citizens far more than her rifle-work ever could.’

The chick would learn her role as he had. He only hoped that when the patriotic little chick found her place in the military some day, that she would stick to the rear… but he had a feeling Arcturius had a greater role for her to play than that. What she had done today should have been impossible, but she must have had the War God’s favor. For the first time in a long time, he hoped; he was optimistic for a future that would last long enough for the “little bannergriffs” of the nation to grow up and fortify the hearts of the nation into a solid unity once more.

That this new generation would recapture that moment he felt back during the storming of the Imperial Palace; when those invincible Imperial Knights fell to the farmer’s pitchfork and the blacksmith’s hammer. That moment when he knew the people could do anything and nothing was impossible.
> 6 - Revolution
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Civilian Militia “A Critical Success” – Government Considers Mandatory Military Training of all Citizens

With the end of Civilians Militias – and the return to the “old” normal in light of reduced bandit activity – the Militia Organization Chief, Schwartsen Eckleburg, has tabled a proposition for mandatory training of all citizens. He said in a comment to Der Republifaner, “The incredible success of the militia in aiding the regular armed forces during their sweep of bandits over the past few months has shown what I’ve always known: that there is great power in the people. It is a power the government should be hesitant to use, but when it’s called, it must be ready.”

President Kemerskai and Armaments Minister Erich Kreiger were hesitant of the proposal, calling it “interesting” and “a great expense” respectively, but made no firm statements on the direction the government plans to follow. The President went on to add that “The Civilian Militia is something I hope to never need again. It is a great patriotic duty, but a great burden both on the nation and the people. I promise to try and live up to all of our citizens’ expectations in eradicating the bandit problem once and for all with no further impacts on their quality of life.”

With the Civilian Militia now over, one thing is not in doubt: the nation’s top priority is an end to banditry. Close watch will be given to anygriff that can show efforts in resolving it. - See page 3 for more

- Headline article on the front page of the Griffonian Republic National Newspaper, Der Republifaner (2nd Week of January 1003 Edition)





January 26th, 1003 – Left-NRP Headquarters, Cloudsbury, Griffonian Republic – Rikard POV

As a red-feathered griffon – Chairgriff-General Moe Sparrowsbane – paced about the room, Rikard felt a twinge of pain in his hip and did his best to hide a wince. He had been shot a few weeks prior and while he was out of the hospital and able to move, sitting for too long had the occasional lance of pain race up his side. As it turned out, being the leader of a National Political Party did not grant immunity from conscription, nor did being an officer of a company of citizen militia make him immune to getting shot. Still, as he sat at his desk deep in the concrete confines of L-NRP Headquarters, he could not let his pain show. He refused to show any more weakness to his political rival before him, nor the two tough-looking soldiers from his “Red Guard” that flanked the door.

If things were different, the two would never meet. The General had thousands of loyal and veteran soldiers under his command and was instrumental in crushing bandits and returning plunder from their hoards to families across the nation and earning the accolades of the President himself. Rikard – on the other claw – was a hardly-known councilgriff whose only accomplishments were leading the almost unknown “Left-Wing” party to a minuscule 3% of the vote. If those votes had not been concentrated in Cloudbury, he would be a nobody.

There was a secret, however, one that Rikard knew and which forced these regular meetings.

Moe stopped his pacing to look Rikard up and down. He scoffed.

“This whole situation’s made you look weak, Rikard. Kowtowing to Kemerskai’s political “armistice”? Getting shot halfway through by some bandits? You could’ve been front-and-center protesting the President’s complete disregard for his citizens’ lives and demanding he step down after his repeat failures. Instead, you’re one-step-forward-two-steps-back. One paw in the grave, even. The President’s successful end of a major crisis has him looking grand while the workers I speak to blame you for your inaction. Many of their friends and family died for a cause they don’t believe in.”

Rikard groaned, partially from his wound and partially from having this “can of worms” opened with Moe again.

“Say I did? Say I protested? What would happen? The President would ignore me and nothing would change. When the crisis ended, I’d just look like a fool: the only political candidate that went against the grain. It wasn’t the right time and-”

Moe leaned forwards and slammed a claw against the desk.

“And what would be the right time, hmm? While you “distribute literature” and “setup co-ops” the real communists in Skynavia have carved out a workers’ paradise in the north.”

He huffed.

“Of course, like all true democracies, Skynavia’s way forward has been fraught with debate and discord, but the time will come when they start looking south. If you can build a strong foundation of a workers’ paradise here, there won’t be a problem… but you know my thoughts already.”

Rikard knew very well. It was the secret he kept to himself: Moe Sparrowsbane would lead a Skynavian coup against the government. He was on a deadline.

He grimaced.

“And I would appreciate if you kept such talk out of this. Obviously I have no control over your forces – and their protection of my people despite our differences is something I admire – but such threats are not helpful. We both will do our utmost to take the paths to worker liberty we feel are best.”

Moe frowned.

“There is no path for you. If you ever obtain real power, the President will not make the same mistake he made with Skynavia. Your party will be banned, the agitators imprisoned and you will be exiled or killed. He would not let you leave, and he certainly won’t give you the opportunity to seize power yourself. You must know this.”

Rikard waved a claw in flippant disregard.

“That’s the difference between us. I still believe in democracy; not the “true” one up north, but one that allows compromise with ideological enemies. I don’t need 100% approval of socialism to make progress, I can come to a compromise. However, even if what you say comes to pass, it would still be worth the labor. So long as the workers of the Republic struggle, I will fight for them. I hope when the time comes for the changes we hope for, that we can still be cordial with one another.”

Moe huffed in derision.

“Compromise… yes, you would be the type to compromise your ideals… However it will be you that should remember to be cordial; I will not need reminding when I liberate this decrepit nation.”

The General signaled for his guards and made his way out the door. Just before he left, he paused and turned to Rikard with a smirk.

“In the meantime, Kemerskai is due to give my army its generous monthly allowance. More than enough for fresh troops and equipment. It would be a shame if my troops’ claws went dull while I waited for you to figure all this out.”

It was a bounty that anygriff could take for killing bandits. With the size of Moe’s army, he believed it would be a generous amount. It was likely more money than the L-NRP made since Rikard had become its leader 3 years ago.

As the General left, a black-feathered griffon walked in. It was the ex-capitalist and his Propaganda Minister Ernst Thälgriff. He made a clicking sound with his beak.

“Not a pleasant talk with our resident Internationalist general?”

There were two primary types of “Left-Wing” activist. He – and most of the griffons in his party – were communalists. That meant they advocated for convincing people of the cause of socialism through action and word: working on a local, grass-roots movement to make change. It was a slow, but peaceful and stable process. The General was an Internationalist, which meant he desired for socialism to be spread by force. In many ways this was something that Rikard agreed with as well. An aristocrat, for example, would not tolerate even the rumor of socialism on their lands. The only way for change there would be revolution.

However, Moe went a step further than that with. Even if the Republic was democratic and accepting of socialist conversation, Moe would start his coup. It was something Rikard would hate to have happen… but it was also something he would not tell the President about. Rikard might be considered a traitor to the Republic and democracy for doing so, but the coup gave him a tiny sliver of hope. He could not fully trust the President. Between banning national elections and refusing to put any care into worker rights, there was the chance the President would backtrack on the founding principles of the Republic. Moe’s coup would give the Skynavian Socialist General Congress a chance to save the workers of the Republic from such tyranny.

Rikard’s warring thoughts could only result in him letting out an audible sigh as he answered Ernst’s question.

“You know how it is, more of the same. Thankfully, I know Moe’s blowing hot air… for now. He has the forces to make a breakaway state on the border with Skynavia if he wanted, but their General Congress would not support him. The issues with the workers’ paradise are slow going.”

Ernst chuckled. No doubt to a former capitalist this must all seem amusing.

“Trouble in paradise?”

Rikard groaned.

“The paradise part is fine. From what my informants say, it is everything we dreamed of: a fully democratic society. No griffon is valued less for their position in society or the work they do. No, the issues are twofold.”

He held up a talon.

“First, Chairgriff Asper Sickleclaw had been instrumental in forming the country, but has been indecisive in forming a coalition government in the General Congress. He acts like a Communalist or an Internationalist when it suits him and its only made the political divisions worse. There’s Isolationist Communes, Anarchists, Unionists, anti-pony Internationalists, trans-griffon Internationalists and more. There’s even a debate on whether the concept of a “political party” is something they will allow in Congress. At the rate they are going, every griffon will have a veto on new government policy. It’s utter deadlock.”

He frowned as he held a second talon.

“The second issue is that the workers aren’t working. The Internationalist workers are on strike more than they work and many of the communes have reverted back to a borderline-subsistence way of life. No, between the internal problems and the border war with the Northern Tribes Ponies whose land they took, they won’t be a concern for at least another few years.”

Ernst showed him a wry smile.

“Those would be great problems for us to have right now.”

The Propaganda Minister sighed.

“Instead, half the Republic wants to sacrifice the Cloudburians to the bandits in favor of a hopeless war with the Empire and the other half wants to chain workers to their machines. Is the fact we can only scrounge up a measly 3% of support a statement on us, or the griffons that live here?”

Rikard gave him the best look of sympathy he could.

“There’s nothing we can do but continue our work to convince them. Moe’s right that Skynavia is not a threat now, but we’re running out of time. He’s also right that the President will not let us take power while he has the ability to stop it. For Kemerskai, socialism will always be a passing fad for the radicals with more dreams than brains. When we make our move, it can’t be something he can ignore.”

His Propaganda Minister frowned.

“But how? What can we do that won’t just be met with force? I refuse to do all this work just for a violent coup that destroys this country.”

Rikard smiled.

“I have a few ideas, but none of them will work without support, so in the meantime, we’ve a project to complete. The bandits are under control now. Armaments Minister Erich Kreiger has no more excuses left to delay us. We will take control of his munitions factory and prove to the nation that socialism is not just a fad, but the best way forwards.”

Ernst gave him a knowing look.

“And your other project?”

Rikard leaned back in thought.

“Tanya… she’s already received a lot of good attention lately. If I didn’t already know she was a staunch socialist ideologue, I’d be worried about the political capital she’s accruing. The reality is the opposite: she’s as unambitious as you could get. If I let her, she’d still be translating documents. She needs a push or two before she can really surprise you, but that makes her so dependable.”

Ernst stared at him for a moment.

“And you’re sure I’m the one to do it?”

Rikard chuckled and pat him on the withers.

“I put you in charge of the factory project for a reason. As a former factory owner, you know how to get started and what can go wrong. I can think of no one better to show Tanya just how capable socialism can be.”





February 8th, 1003 – 3rd Munitions Plant, Squark, Griffonian Republic – Tanya POV

After the night of terror all those months ago – where illogical things like waving flags were the difference between life and death – an awkward “new normal” emerged in Tanya’s life. In the local Cloudbury paper she was lauded a “hero”, given a pointless medal, put in a dress and paraded around singing the Party Anthem again and again. Such celebrity helped the L-NRP gain acclaim, but that was not what she wanted. The whole affair was nothing but a waste of time, with her continued existence being the one good thing to come of it.

She had hoped for better pay or job prospects, but she was now known far-and-wide as “the socialist flag-waving chick”. The socialist party paid out a pathetic wage that only netted her a tiny shared apartment, and capitalist owners far-and-wide would force her away before she could even come within sight of their place of business, fearing her socialist “taint” might destroy their businesses. The only people that looked on her fondly and said her name with cheer were the miscreants and layabouts of the slums. She knew better than to believe they wanted anything from her but her money or celebrity for use in some nefarious scheme. She considered making a new life in Skyfall or the Empire but as it stood, she was worried either the bandits would get to her first or the new nation might think she was a foreign radical and imprison her.

However, Tanya’s life still had hope to start turning around.

Thanks to her suggestion to the Presidential Council, the socialists were given ownership of a failing business: a munitions plant that built ammunition for the outdated “Vorderlader” Model 71 rifle. The guns were bolt-action weapons upgraded from even older Vorderlader Muskets. Because it was made before the invention of smokeless powder, they needed special 11mm ammunition that mimicked the size and shape of musket-balls. With modern ballistics, the ammunition was utterly inferior to the more accurate 7.92mm rounds used in the semi-automatic Hinterladerbüchse Model 98 rifle the military now produced. Regardless, the obsolete rifles were still being used and so the ammunition would need to be made.

As Tanya and the Project Leader, Ernst Thälgriff, walked up to the factory, Tanya could not be happier. The factory was a dump.

The bricks were old and worn and the windows were simply glass panes mounted in a wooden frame, haphazardly and loosely fitted. Neither provided much insulation against the bitter winter air. The inside was better, but not by much. The floors were covered in a fine layer of snow from the failed outer protection; it did little to hide the cracked tiles beneath. The machines looked positively ancient with rust on the edges. The only things that looked to be in working order was the coal-powered steam engine that provided supplementary electricity to the machines and primary power to the hydraulics. Despite that, the engine looked under-powered from what she would have expected: it was the size she would expect to heat the factory yet alone maintain the power needed for the dozen machines that were supposed to be operating in it.

‘A total disaster. If I could meet with Erich Kreiger right now, I’d hug him! A genius move. The socialists will be so busy renovating and upgrading the factory, they will never make any of their deadlines. Even if they did, it would mean bankrupting themselves. A win-win. Of course, he will no doubt have plenty of documentary evidence of what the factory looked like before he ruined the walls and replaced all the machines with these archaic models. No amount of whining from the socialists will be able to prove anything! It would just be a he-said-she-said dispute with the established R-NRP leader being given the clear advantage.’

As they finished, Ernst made a number of notes on a clipboard and nodded.

“Hmm… I see they are using powered workstations and a linear assembly process laid throughout the complex. Things seem largely organized how I’d expect. There might be a few minor changes: fixing the insulation, getting a better steam engine, but it’s about what I expected. I can work with this.”

Tanya was horrified.

‘No, come on! You can’t be this stupid. There’s no overhead lights! There’s no modularity to the footprint; hell, there’s no consideration of the floorplan at all! It was like they just bought a random building and jammed in as many machines as they could! What the hell are you playing at, Ernst?!’

While Tanya could count on her claws the total number of times she’d been inside a modern factory, she did not need it. Forget computer-age or even the industrial-age, this factory looked like it could have been stamped on a woodblock print from the Sengoku Era! She could imagine Oda Nobunaga ordering his peasants to build something equivalent to this for constructing his muskets; right next to a new Feudal Castle!

She paused.

‘No… Minister Kreiger might have made a fundamental error: he overestimated the socialists! With the way things are going, they will completely ignore all the obvious problems with the factory and produce next to no production whatsoever! That might seem great… but it would prompt an audit. Even a brain-dead bureaucrat would see the obvious then! Such an investigation could cause the whole scheme to unravel!’

It was a mistake that Tanya had learned the hard way again and again. Just when she thought that the socialists could not show any less competence or stoop any lower, they always seemed to break through the bottom of her expectations. Still, there was some small hope. While Ernst was obviously a fool who was completely ignorant of common sense business practices, he might still listen to reason. So long as she helped him upgrade the factory to the point it was merely a significantly inferior facility, they would still fail without looking too suspicious. She just needed to give a little nudge; just enough that they could figure out the absolute basics of modern common sense.

Tanya looked to Ernst with a fake smile on her face.

“I can… perhaps… think of one or two things that might improve things here… a little. If you don’t mind me offering.”

Ernst laughed – he laughed – at her.

“Well, what do you think Tanya? Rikard said that your insights have proven very valuable in the past.”

‘Of course they have! You’re all idiots!’

She did not say that to the griffon and as she thought about what to say, her smile turned a little more genuine. She would start with the expensive things that would have them falling into Kreiger’s trap, just as planned.

“Right, well the first thing would be to extend the factory to allow better use of the space. As it stands, there is little room to maneuver and when we get feedback from the production teams on process limitations and roadblocks during assembly, we won’t be able to reorganize the lines to accommodate.”

Ernst looked thoughtful. It was a new look.

“Of course… ah, I feel like a fool. There’s no reason to expect existing methods are better than the ones workers can come up with. Why live by their standards. We should be completely re-imagining the entire concept of a factory from the ground-up. Well, I suppose Kreiger didn’t say we needed to only use the space provided… ”

Tanya rolled her eyes.

‘I hadn’t meant to be quite that ambitious, but that solves the problem of cost. They can feel free to bankrupt themselves with a million pie-in-the-sky ideas. This should be enough to get them started. I look forwards to the absolute mess they make for themselves.’





March 14th, 1003 – 3rd Munitions Plant, Squark, Griffonian Republic – Ernst POV

‘Rikard was wrong about one thing; it wasn’t me who would be showing Tanya how capable socialism could be.’

It had been over a month since they took ownership of Kreiger’s factory and construction of the expansion was completed. With Tanya’s advice, he had asked the workers what improvements could be made to get the process flowing more smoothly and they had a number of suggestions. With more space, they could arrange the machines such that there was less risk of injury, more room to move supplies and equipment around the factory, and organize them such that materials flowed from one step to the next without need of ferrying parts back-and-forth. There were other things they had thought of to improve – such as keeping the gunpowder more isolated with static-resistant surfaces to reduce the risk of explosions – but they were limited by time and budget. They had less than a month to begin production if they were to start making deadlines.

Of course, none of those suggestions would win them a victory over the Capitalists. Their workers did 12 hour days, allowing to 2 shifts to run the machines all the time with minimal pay, and they had more experience. Sure their workers had more fatigue and made more mistakes, but that mattered little when constructing the 11mm outdated ammunition.

‘And that was the trap Erich Kreiger set for us. The factory needed a little “fixing-up” to get in working order thanks to the old owner’s mismanagement, but Kreiger had provided payment for those renovations. It would've been too obvious he was setting us up for failure otherwise. Of course, the real trick was that the 11mm ammunition could be fired by practically any poorly-maintained rifle. It replaced the musket ball after all. Even Kreiger’s tired and overworked employees could make a lot of them without defects thanks to those loose tolerances. Our three 8-hour shifts would be more alert, motivated, and happier, but I would also need to hire more at higher pay. I wouldn’t be able to compete to produce the same amount of ammunition at the same price because the standards wouldn’t matter.'

Which left him forced to use every bit of knowledge Tanya could give him. Unfortunately that was harder than one would think.

While he did not have a perfect view into Tanya’s mind, he had a pretty strong guess. She was a very humble chick and did not want to say anything “wrong” to somegriff she felt was “senior” to herself in the Party. If he asked her something as the “Propaganda Minister of the L-NRP”, she would rebuff him, telling him “you know what to do” and “do whatever you think is best”. However, the moment he talked to her about his past as a former factory owner and a capitalist, she began to open up to him. Ironically, by portraying himself as an “antagonist” she felt more comfortable. He was no longer her “supervisor” but a “potential convert to a deeper understanding of socialism”. Combined with framing the conversation like it was coming from his workers, she was far more likely to speak her mind.

Ernst found Tanya deep in a book in a cozy corner of the factory. It was a complicated capitalist text, but he was not worried. He often read books from “the other team” too; they solidified his beliefs and gained insight into ways to convince someone on the fence to join his side. He was glad that the chick was broadening her horizons as most of her ideas were completely beyond his imagination.

He softly got her attention with a click of his talons.

“Afternoon Tanya.”

She looked to him with a raised eyebrow.

“Hello Ernst? Do you need anything? Is it quitting time already?”

He had made sure she did as little work as possible. She had been reluctant at first and had insisted in returning to HQ or her home, but he was worried she would try working somewhere else. While he was fine with having the small chick hang around and give him ideas, he was strictly against under-aged labor.

He gave her a wry smile and prepared his pitch.

“Another trying day. You know how it is, the socialist operators are saying that there are too many “defects” in production. When we run the drawing press slowly things work fine, but speed it up too much and… well, we get problems. Of course, as a former capitalist I want to say the workers are being lazy… but that doesn’t solve the problem. The factory is wasting money.”

It seemed a little much for him to speak like this, but it was what she responded to the most.

It worked. She asked him for the 11mm product spec and the diagrams for the machines and he was quick to oblige. No sooner did she receive them was she flying through the information. She read the documents like a seasoned bureaucrat: scanning whole pages at a time. For a former machinist like him – one that had only done desk work for a couple of years – it was both embarrassing and remarkable that a chick a quarter his age would be so much better at it than him.

A few minutes later and she came to a line on one of the pages and frowned. Looking back and forth between two pages, she nodded and pointed out a discrepancy.

“Well, you’re right that the issue has more to do with process than laziness. A process should be able to survive regardless of the quality of personnel so long as someone qualified is supervising… Ah. The tolerances of the lathe you used to file-down new parts of the hydraulic punch machine making the ammunition cup-dies are completely out of spec. The crap Minister Kreiger left- er, I mean the machines that were in this factory are… very well-used. Just a… little calibration and a re-construction of the punch machine and that should have most of the defects from the drawing phase accounted for at higher rates. This would be a perfect use of the new gauge blocks.”

At the use of the term “gauge block”, he could not help but think back to his working life in his father’s factory he had inherited.

‘Of course, I could guess what the term meant. Seemed straightforwards: a block for gauging; for calibrating. Having worked with machines my whole life, I know calibration like the back of my claw. Micrometers, sine bars, levels, and calipers; I’d done it all… Can’t build something more sophisticated than a mud hut nowadays without checking and rechecking every measurement to the point you can’t even see the difference. Then Tanya – a chick who grew up in the slums and shouldn’t possibly have known about modern industrialization – comes to me asking for a “gauge block”. She even has the gall to make me sound like an idiot for not knowing about it!’

But she had been right; even made sure to find some that “stick together”.

Being a former machinist and business owner, he had industry contacts that might have heard of this “newfangled widget”. Once he started asking around, he quickly found himself in a meeting with a very concerned-looking Skyfall business owner. The unicorn mare had demanded to know where he had heard it from and would only do business if he signed an NDA to never disclose any mention of it elsewhere. The way she sounded did not make it seem like he had much choice; and he knew better than to cross a Skyfallian businessmare.

As it turned out, so-called “gauge blocks” were a trade-secret by a rich businesspony out of Manehattan. They were being sold on a “case-by-case” basis to a privileged few. Despite Ernst’s silence, the mare still demanded an enormous sum to purchase one. It was enough to buy the whole munitions factory they were trying to rebuild in the first place. Had Ernst heard of the tool from some catalog or shady business deal, he would have walked out right there. However, with the context of everything surrounding the product, he had no choice but to buy it. It had cost him a lot of favors as the Propaganda Head of the Party, but he managed to scrounge up the funds.

“Thanks Tanya, you can head home early. I’ve got some work to do.”

With a casual wave of a claw, the chick walked out of the factory without putting down her book.

With his plan in place, Ernst walked into a separate area of the factory: the Machine Shop. The smaller room was still large, but unlike the more open-plan of the factory, it was crammed with machines. A dozen griffons worked on filing down burred edges of metal objects while others used large wrenches and hammers to mount threaded rods back into slides and gears into gearboxes. This was where the various machines on the factory floor were serviced and potentially whole new machines could be made. Whatever the factory needed to improve production.

As Ernst walked in he yelled out at the top of his lungs.

“Alright, everygriff stop what you’re doing!”

The machine noises all stopped. The workers let out audible groans as they tossed their half-completed work away. By now, they all knew the gist of what he was going to say.

The Chief Engineer in the shop, Rosy Richter, wiped the thick grease from her gloved hands over her overalls and walked over to him.

“So boss, what does the little chick have us doing this time?”

Ernst chuckled and shook his head.

‘Shouldn’t be surprised they have me made by now.’

“Put the construction of the turret lathe on hold for now. It won’t be ready for the first deadline anyway and I’ve just been reminded that there will be several problems with the design. We’ve got to re-calibrate the old lathe with the new tools first… probably need to redo everything that lathe’s been used for as well, including the turret lathe components.”

Rosy looked confused.

“New tools? Oh, you mean that package?”

Ernst nodded gravely. He walked to a corner of the room and knelt down to be eye-height with a safe sitting on the floor. Making sure that nogriff was able to see the dial, he entered the combination and opened the safe door. Inside was an exquisite, lacquered wooden box. It was trimmed with gold and had a delicate embossed word written in the Equestrian language. He could only assume was a name, but he could not read the language. Taking the box out from the safe, he turned to Rosy.

“Just came in yesterday… I haven’t dared to open it yet.”

Giving the moment an appropriate level of gravitas, he slowly opened the box. Inside were the “gauge blocks”… unassuming metal rectangles of varying sizes neatly lined up in a row.

Rosy was not impressed.

“Don’t look like much.”

He took out two of the blocks.

“What’s the temperature.”

Rosy rolled her eyes.

“20° Celsius exactly. You were the one who wanted it like that, so that’s how it is. I do my job, boss. We’re glad for it at any rate; rest of the factory freezes our feathers off, new insulation or not.”

Ernst nodded. Taking a block in each claw, he brought them together and slightly rubbed them against one another. When he took his claw off one of the blocks, they were sticking together.

Rosy was still unimpressed.

“Neat party-trick, sir… don’t know how you did it.”

He shaked his head.

“This is no magic act, Rosy. This is the future. The gauges here are so perfectly shaped that they fit together entirely by the vacuum created by their joining and the nuclear forces between the atoms of the metal. They are perfectly flat within less than a micrometer. Do you know what that means? We can make our own go/no-go gauges, calibrate our tools to be perfect. We can create interchangeable parts. We can have machines that can perfectly reproduce actions again and again with no operator controlling the movements!”

Rosy’s eyes widened.

“You mean-”

He smiled.

“We are on the ground floor of a revolution to eclipse the industrial one. We already have machines that can do the work of 10 laborers. Now imagine machines that can replace machinists. Those machinists now free to work on machines that can replace even more griffons. Soon the hours per shift will drop from 12 to 8 to 4 then... an end to labor entirely. It might take 100 years or more to accomplish, but it is possible. A global network of automated machines producing the parts needed to make themselves, as well as every conceivable luxury for the common griffon who no longer needs to work.”

Rosy chuckled.

“Utopia, huh… and not that ideological nonsense up north either. You certainly think big.”

He shrugged.

“Yeah I know, big dreams; we won’t ever see it in our lifetimes… but do you feel a little more motivated now? I know I sure do.”

Rosy shrugged back.

“It’s all just words… but sure, it sounds interesting. I’ll make use of these “miracle blocks” to calibrate that lathe. Let’s do it.”





It took a few hours of careful work. The machine shop’s calipers and micrometers were re-adjusted first, then the lathe’s head chuck and tail post were aligned. Then the slides and tool posts were re-zeroed to their correct starting positions. Finally, with everything re-calibrated, Rosy turned on the lathe and the subtle whine of the motor came on with it.

With an involute gear cutter on the chuck, Rosy aligned a cylindrical metal blank on a vertical tool slide. Using the calibrated micrometer, she set the proper depth and cut the first “tooth” out of the gear. Taking time to accurately rotate the blank to the next position, she cut it again and again and again. After 30 minutes of careful work, Rosy had two gears of different sizes, but with matching “teeth”.

Rosy looked at Ernst and chuckled.

“Well here they are; your ‘perfect’ gears… you look nervous.”

He shook his head.

“Just excited. Put them in the lathe and see how they work.”

Rosy opened up the headstock assembly of the lathe and revealed the motor and mess of gears that took the electricity of the factory and used it to rotate the chuck. The gear assembly was drenched in a tar-like grease that kept any friction from damaging themselves. With a few quick torques of a wrench and few hits of a hammer, two gears from the assembly came loose. They were identical to the ones Rosy had just made. Slathering the new gears with grease, she slotted them back into the lathe. With a few turns to ensure the gears were fully drenched in grease, she closed the headstock. With the flick of a switch, the lathe turned back on and the subtle whine returned… for a moment before the sound’s pitch went higher and higher until it went completely outside their hearing.

Rosy laughed.

“Incredible. Runs as quiet as a mouse. When I first turned that thing on and it started crying out like a dying rabbit, I thought I’d be hearing that sound until I quit or I died. With the old precision, would've been a massive waste of time and money to fix it. Just for this alone, I owe that chick Tanya a few beers… when she gets older of course.”

‘It’s been a long day.’

Ernst stretched. While the work had been incredibly rewarding, he would be glad to go to sleep and take another look at this new perspective with a fresh pair of eyes.

“Well, you know what to do now. Fix every component that lathe can get its “teeth” into when you have time. I’ll be calibrating everything else, heck, I’ll re-calibrate everything every day until we figure out what tools are good and bad. I’ll even take these gauge blocks with me to every co-op and workspace the L-NRP manages. As the capitalists say: I have to get my money’s worth!”

Laughing at his own joke, he put the gauge blocks back into the safe and made his way home.

‘Heh… Just a few words from that chick and she’s already revolutionized my way of thinking. I wonder what groundbreaking new insight she will have for me tomorrow.’

He could not wait to find out.
> 7 - Wrong Place...
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chaos in Brodfeld: Violent Crackdown after Royal Assassination Attempt Blamed on Partisans

The Kingdom of Brodfeld had seen much upheaval over the past few years. Widespread famine caused by royal mismanagement has caused thousands of refugees to pour out into neighboring countries.

Earlier this month, an attempted assassination of Brodfeld King Kloseu de Kissau while spectating a Military Parade in Kivessin resulted in the deaths of both the assassin and the King’s wife. The assassin was never positively identified, but the King had since blamed the radical partisan group: The Prywhenian Liberation Army, a popular communist uprising brought on by the famine. The King vowed to enact harsh reparations and crackdowns on the group.

This week, reports have confirmed the region is experiencing a state of widespread violence with massacres of citizens by Royal Decree occurring to those suspected of being partisans. The King’s son, Prince Tomado, has sworn to mediate the dispute but it seems too little too late to stop widespread bloodshed. Thousands once more flee the country or have taken arms for either side. Until more information comes in, it is difficult to say if the current violence can be considered the start of a Civil War, or if it is a flareup that will deescalate in the coming weeks.

President Kemerskai has spoken out condemning the violence but has not taken a side. Considering the socialist nature of the uprising, the nation’s current issues, and the distance, the government will likely not consider making any actions.

Only time will tell if a third, less revenge-fueled option will make itself known, or if the nation is destined to descend further into anarchy. 

- Front-page article of the Griffonian Republic National Newspaper, Der Republifaner (4th Week of May 1003 Edition)





May 24th, 1003 – Rosewing’s Headquarters, Western Whitetail Mountains, Griffonian Republic – Chiron POV

Chiron Stormfeather looked at his surroundings with disdain. The brown-haired, brown-eyed General of the Republic did not hide his feelings. The damp cave he found himself in was unpleasantly cool, with dripping stalactite and stalagmite formations giving off frequent irritating noises with every drop of their limestone-enriched water.

The only thing he could think of was how much better things would be if he was doing his actual assignment. He was supposed to be overseeing the troop formations of the 12th Infantry Division stationed in the mountains north of Windford, known to the locals as the Whitetail Mountains.

Instead, this secretive meeting with the Warlord Rosewing had been planned by his true superior, Reinhard Suntail, Chief of Staff of the Republican High Command. Suntail and Rosewing had been gathering forces and equipment for a little less than a year now, preparing for an eventual coup of the government. Ever since the creation of the Citizens’ Militia, more and more griffons in the military were coming around to the truth of their cause: that Kemerskai’s middling policy of catering to the Harmonists, the Socialists, the Pacifists and the Industrialists had weakened the country, but that the power the President-Marshal wielded could turn things around in the right claws. The unmitigated success of the Citizens’ Militia was proof of that.

Across from Stormfeather, however, was the exact opposite of that power. Claus Rosewing – supposed warlord of the north – was stuffing his face with the veritable feast before them. The one-eyed red griffon ate like a starving beast. While Stormfeather imagined that the spread of chicken and trimmings was a rare sight – being so isolated as they were from civilization – it was nevertheless insulting to the severity of the meeting’s purpose.

Stormfeather tried to get things back on track.

“Warlord Rosewing, are your preparation’s finalized?”

Rosewing did not hear him and continued eating unabated. Frustrated, Stormfeather tried again.

“Rosewing!”

Looking up, Rosewing swallowed a beakful of chicken. He waved a chicken leg at Stormfeather dismissively.

“Chiron, Chiron please… call me Claus! Not even my father went by his last name. Honestly, you could lighten up a little. I used to be like you once, when I helped seize the Palace in Griffenheim. Now? Well, the criminals and ex-soldiers under my command don’t take well to a leader who acts like a task-master. Please, have some of the food. You won’t find something this good anywhere-”

Stormfeather slammed the table, knocking several of the dishes around and causing a little of the food to fall off.

“I do not appreciate your lackadaisical attitude regarding the future of the nation! Answer the damn question!”

Stormfeather gritted his beak together.

‘There’s so much work to be done. The Griffonian National Revolutionary Front can’t afford to wait any longer. We refuse to fall into the trap President Kemerskai or this fool Rosewing has in thinking the nation has endless time to waste!’

That was the takeaway of his ultra-nationalist cause. The GNRF had existed since the defeats at the claws of the monarchists in 979, but it had been aimless and academic, fraught with debate in quiet rooms about the direction the Republic needed to follow to preserve itself in a world where even a fraction of the Empire could destroy it under the weight of their slave-armies of peasant soldiers. One of these ideas had always been theoretical, but strongly favored by most: the re-creation of a permanent Citizens’ Militia like those used before the first Presidential Election in 978, when the Republic had achieved everything from the storming of the Palace of Griffenheim, to the destruction of its armies.

With the effectiveness of the militia proven, Chief of Staff Suntail had taken the reigns of the GNRF's internal politics, bringing a number of ideas to the table as the future President-Marshal. Re-education of the public on the glorification of the Republic’s founding to ensure the ideals that created it never died. The execution of traitors, dissidents, weakness and greed from all levels of society. The movement of all private property to the control of the state to safeguard its institutions. The membership had been skeptical of radical changes before, but now there was no idea was too radical if it meant avoiding the current situation: where something as pathetic as an attack from the traitors of Skynavia or bandits would be enough to collapse everything the Republican cause had built until now.

‘It’s frustrating that – despite our newfound vision – we have to rely on these lazy traitors. In the new national order, Rosewing and his gang will be… sorted out.’

Ignorant of Stormfeather’s thoughts, Warlord Rosewing sighed.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. What do you even have to worry about? You’re not the one that’s taking on all the risk here. Just sit tight in your nice comfy offices and wait for my army to make the first strike. Then you take the President hostage and bring about your new regime. Me? I have to move 20,000 troops into position without being spotted by patrols hounding the countryside. If the Republican Army discovers just a portion of my forces, I’ll find myself in an ambush and suddenly I’m at a huge disadvantage in the coming Civil War.”

That was the plan on paper: Rosewing attacks and the GNRF takes control of the government. Then, when the dust settles, the two “duke it out” for control of the nation. The reality was different. The GNRF had almost half of the C-NRP – most of Sunglider’s faction – in their pocket already, but they would not move unless the GNRF had a leader in the President's chair. Of course, such information was hidden from Rosewing; he was hardly trustworthy. It was also why Stormfeather wore an enchanted medallion to mask his voice and hid his face during the trip to the warlord’s hideout. With all these preparations, the GNRF held all the cards; they had leverage on Rosewing, but with his remote location, the warlord could do nothing to investigate or counter the power that the ultra-nationalist loyalists had over him.

Stormfeather impatiently tapped on the table.

“That does not concern us, Rosewing. Remember, we have proof of your attacks on Republican soldiers. You brought this on yourself. Our evidence reaching the President means your supplies and backing disappears; you’d be finished. Do your job and reap the rewards… or don’t and reap the consequences. That’s what my leader has entrusted me to remind you of. We will not accept failure.”





June 8th, 1003 – Left-NRP Headquarters, Cloudsbury, Griffonian Republic – Ernst POV

Ernst Thälgriff – head of propaganda for the socialist L-NRP – watched as Armaments Minister Erich Kreiger paced around Rikard Aster’s small office. Ernst and Rikard with smug detachment as they watched the overweight griffon fume and rage.

“The trick you damn socialists pulled may have let you win this time, but you will fail to capitalize on whatever small gains you’ve had, I’m sure of it!”

It had been inevitable with the massive improvements brought on by the precise calibration of their machines. With the Gauge Blocks Tanya had told Ernst about, he had been able to not only construct more of the 11mm ammunition, but also improvements to the machines that built them. With a turret lathe now complete, the factory could mass-produce the finicky “cups” that held the percussion caps of the round; something that Kreiger’s workforce could only do manually. While Ernst’s workers had beaten the Industrialist at his own game two months ago, they had since gone and doubled that production.

It had reached a point now that the nation had – for the first time since the outdated weapons had been created – made a surplus. No longer were citizens without ammunition forced to hand-roll dangerous paper variants of the round because the alternative was fighting a battle with an empty rifle.

Rikard smirked.

“Tricks or not, we won. The President has authorized our workers’ co-ops to now accept government contracts. Your monopoly has been busted.”

Kreiger scoffed.

“There was no monopoly. While I can hardly call the current situation in this country a “Free Market”, there are also no artificial barriers to entry. Any business that can prove its profitability was always eligible. It was just that your ineffective economic tactics never worked… until now. But your trick won’t work in the long run. You’ll go bankrupt long before you can seriously compete with me!”

Their trick had been exposed… or so Kreiger thought. Ernst smirked.

‘Thankfully, the President only allowed impartial auditors from the C-NRP to judge. The competition made it clear that so long as the product was produced by the factory itself with no outside influence, it would be our victory. So we won. They identified the cause of our success over Kreiger as the result of “machines in the factory were more effective”. We didn’t have any of the manufacturing done outside the country, so there was nothing Kreiger could do. Of course, he believes that we “cheated” by shipping the factory’s machines to Skyfall or Feathisia and had them refurbished at great personal expense… but who am I to correct his misunderstanding?’

Ernst shrugged.

“Believe what you want. This time next year, you won’t find things working out as nicely as it had until now.”

Something about his statement made Kreiger smile. He stopped his pacing and shifted his collar.

“You’re right. Perhaps I should not be too upset. Enjoy your victory, I can attest it will be one of your last.”

With that ominous line, the Armaments Minister left. Rikard was unamused.

“I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me that he’s a sore loser. Then again… are you certain it's not an act; that he hasn’t found the true cause for us winning?”

Ernst shook his head.

“The Gauge Blocks are kept under lock-and-key at all times and I only allow a select few of my most loyal workers to even know that they're used to calibrate the measurement tools. The other workers can only assume our tools are just "better". I have no doubt that it will leak out eventually, but I hope that by then, we’ll have made enough turret lathes and other automated equipment to leap ahead of the R-NRP’s slave-labor advantage.”

Rikard nodded gravely.

“That’s key. Wherever socialism failed, it was because the Capitalists gained an early advantage by leveraging their brutal workplace standards. Once they take control of the market, it's too late. That's why we must stop them now, while they're distracted with the problems in the north. If we can show the people that we can compete – and even succeed – against the Capital Class without the need for exploiting labor, they'll turn to us in droves.”

Ernst frowned.

“So you say… but we can’t be sure Kreiger’s confidence is only his ignorance of our calibration method. He seemed a little too confident he could win. It seems like he still has a few aces-up-his-sleeves he can bring against us.”

Rikard gave him a determined glare.

“Then we’ll meet them all head-on. We’re making solid progress in the polls and our party’s on the rise. Let the industrialist play his “games”. We will win where it counts: in the hearts and minds of the proletariat.”

Ernst nodded distractedly, but could not help but focus on a clipboard on Rikard’s desk. It listed the Co-ops and workplaces that still had yet to have their tools calibrated by the Gauge Blocks. He was reminded that their only advantage was the gifts Tanya had bestowed on them.

“Of course… and yet I can’t help but notice we’ve placed a lot of our hopes on the withers of a single chick… speaking of which, where is she?”

Rikard chuckled.

“Listen to you. She’s spent the past few months with you in the factory, and yet the minute she’s out of sight you’re like a mother hen. Tanya’s taking the day off. With Gisella Griffricht heading back to Brodfeld to work with her compatriots in the Prywhenian Liberation Army and these new standards you’ve given to the co-ops, everygriff's been working day-and-night. The last thing I wanted was her getting in her mind she needed to work any harder.”

Ernst stared at Rikard in disbelief.

“Tanya doesn’t take days off! If I didn’t force her to sit and read during her stay at the factory, she would've waltzed onto some other job site or came back here to do work! Where did she say she was going?”

Rikard rolled his eyes.

“Apparently she wanted to do a little "investigating" on her own. She’s probably just at the library. You’re blowing this all out-of-proportion. Tanya's allowed to spend her free time-” 

Ernst did not wait to hear more as he stormed off in search of Tanya.

‘Rikard’s a damned fool. If Kreiger or our enemies get even a hint of how important she is, her life would be in danger!’

Racing away from headquarters, he looked all around but did not see hide or hair of the griffon. After a few minutes, he realized that he would not find her by fluke and settled himself. He would need to ask around at her apartment and her usual hangouts.

‘I hope Rikard's right and I’m just blowing this out-of-proportion. After all, what danger could she possibly make for herself in just a day?’





June 8th, 1003 – Northern Clawthorn Street, Cloudsbury, Griffonian Republic – Red POV

The namesake feathers of the griffon known as “Red” had dulled slightly over the last few years. While she was still barely an adult at 24, it was somewhat common for griffons to lose a little of the “vibrancy” of their plumage in their early adult years. 

Red liked to think the change happened from stress.

She was quite the busy griffon: she managed several private gambling dens in the slums and harbor district and also hired plenty of “muscle” to keep everygriff in line. She thought herself to be a “stabilizing” presence for the other would-be gangs in Cloudbury. Her zero-tolerance policy on violence – which would bring the authorities down on their heads by thinking they were “bandits” – forced the more headstrong criminals to flee to the warlords and strongholds in the north that had an easier time committing crime.

It was not always this way.

Red’s former boss had been a real psychopath. He had dealt in hard drugs from the Sunstriker Clan poppy fields and paid for those drugs with people trafficked from the slums. That had netted him a sizable fortune, but had caused the griffon to be paranoid of his own shadow and spend most of his time in private drug-fueled benders. Thanks to that distraction, Red had slowly managed to isolate him from his contacts and network before finally offing him for good. Thanks to her restructuring, she had the loyalty of most of the slum and quickly turned things around in the year since she had taken over.

One such loyal underling opened the door to her cramped office in the back of one of her casinos and interrupted her work accounting for the sizable flows of Republican scrip, Skyfallian Idols and Imperial Marks that passed through her establishment.

The henchgriff coughed into a claw.

“Boss, we have a ‘Tanya’ here to see you. She’s not on the list, want me to kick her out?”

Red raised an eyebrow at the familiar name.

“Tanya? A little blonde chick, right?”

Her henchgriff nodded.

“That’s right. You know her?”

She did not clarify, but gestured for the chick to be let in. Her henchgriff did so with a shrug.

Seeing the familiar mop of blonde hair, Red could not help but grin. The little chick had been utterly unremarkable when they first met. Red had been the accountant underneath the former boss and the chick was one of many “slum rats” that worked for them: a disposable minion that did any number of errands. Whether it was transporting boxes of drugs, kill orders, or other illegal goods beneath the watch of the army, there was no low they would not let the “rats” stoop to. Tanya showed a remarkable resilience, however, not once getting caught in the year she had worked as one. Tanya was very good at playing the “naive innocent chick” but Red knew otherwise.

“Tanya! What a pleasant surprise! I’ve heard you’ve been moving up in the world. Nogriff’s little messenger bird anymore. So, what has an upstanding chick like yourself coming to meet with us criminals?”

Tanya scowled.

“I’ve told you before: you’re not criminals. I wouldn’t have worked with you if you were. There might be a “paper-tiger law” making gambling illegal, but I’ve seen your books before. You pay your taxes and I’ve not heard of anygriff being scammed. I’ve even seen soldiers look the other way from your so-called “illegal” businesses. No, such “prohibition” measures never work in the long run and your success is proof of that. Honestly, you’re the only proper businessgriff in the slums!”

Red laughed. This was part of why she got along so well with the chick. Tanya always spoke to the “best version” of somegriff. Red knew that Tanya had seen the underbelly of the slums; had seen the extortion and the crime that went on, yet she did not seem to care about the casinos and the other “soft” crime. So long as taxes were paid and nogriff was being conned, things were alright in Tanya’s mind.

The comment on seeing their account books, however, had Red frowning.

‘I should’ve taken her in when I had the chance. Just a glance at the boss’ books and she immediately knew they were cooked. When I asked how I could “uncook” them, she taught me a foolproof and comprehensive method: converting the daybooks into double-entry ledgers, creating a chart of accounts, and then using all that to develop an “audit trail”. In just a few weeks, I was able to reverse-engineer the former boss’ entire network of contacts. It’s a damn shame… by the time I took over the accounts myself and offed the boss, Tanya had already started her career with the socialist party.’

Red did not let that get to her. Tanya was once again in front of her and so there was always another opportunity.

“I’ve done pretty well for myself. You were right about the boss’ books. I'd taken the liberty of handling the situation and the boss isn’t a problem anymore. Things have gotten a lot better around her since then.”

Tanya smiled.

“Then I suppose congratulations are in order. I always thought you were wasted as an accountant; you had a knack for business… I suppose you would be the one I want to talk to then. I have a business proposal.”

Red smirked.

‘Doing charity-work, mediating worker disputes and rallying the populous into a patriotic fervor. I’d thought the pragmatic little chick who would do any work to stay alive in this wretched place had moved on… but I suppose it’s easier said than done. You can take a chick out of a slum, but you can’t take the slum out of the chick.’

“Oh? But what about your socialist friends? Is there something nefarious you want done on the down-low?”

Tanya huffed.

“They’re hardly “friends”; they know nothing about the real me. I’ve tried to shift their policies in a more productive direction and subvert them where I could, but it’s too much. I need to make my way out of their shadow or I’ll be stuck as nothing more than an underpaid bureaucrat forever.”

Red had a good idea about what she meant.

‘I can’t imagine that they would be very happy knowing she was still involved with us “criminals”. I suppose she really hasn’t changed. Instead of surviving in this anarchy by doing dangerous work as a slum rat, she’s moved on to surviving by conning the political elite into believing she is anything but a self-interested "Artful Dodger".’

“Well, what are you thinking? Starting up your own business? Need a few capable griffons that won’t question your orders for a steady paycheck?”

Tanya nodded.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page. I’ve saved up some money over the last few months and I’ve done my research. I’m planning on starting a “Co-Op”. I just need griffons who can read and write.”

Red snatched the opportunity to gain closer ties to the genius chick’s meteoric rise.

“Judging your tone and lack of socialist support, this won’t be any ordinary co-op I imagine? Ah, no don’t answer, I’m a soul of discretion and this certainly sounds like an interesting idea regardless of the details. Let me know if you’re looking for investors, I can’t imagine anything you’re involved with is a bad investment.”

Tanya grinned.

“I’ll be glad to discuss the specifics once things get off the ground. If there’s anything I can help with, let me know. Even under your former boss, the work was always safe and fair.”

Red remembered things differently, but she supposed that a slum rat would think of things like “safety” with a biased perspective. Still, who was she to refuse hiring her unique perspective?

“There is one thing I’d like your help with. Consider it a favor for old time’s sake.”

Tanya raised an eyebrow.

“A favor? And what would I get in return?”

Red smiled. So like an ex-rat to demand hard terms.

“Cash of course – hard Imperial Marks, not that Republican “scrip” – and much more than your usual slum-rat courier rate.”

Tanya looked up in thought for a moment.

“What did you have in mind?”

Red smirked. It would be good to work with the best rat in the business again.





June 8th, 1003 – Riverfront Warehouses, Cloudsbury, Griffonian Republic – Tanya POV

Tanya had a skip in her step as she walked down the dark alleys of the Riverfront warehouse district.

‘It’s nice to meet Red again. I’d almost forgotten about her after all the headaches with the socialists. Their business always had steady work with little risk: just deliver packages and letters around. Of course, the work was insulting to my first-rate Japanese education and adult intellect, but I was hardly in a place to complain. Really, the casinos they ran should be praised for giving gainful employment to the children and poor of the slums! It really is yet more evidence that when public institutions fail, the people and private enterprise are always there to get them back on their feet… or paws in this case.’

That Red was willing to do work with her again after over a year without contact was proof that she was a capable businessgriff. It often frustrated Tanya that her lack of dutifully keeping up with old acquaintances was seen as an insult when she was simply too busy for constant social interaction with dozens of people. That she was able to do a job for good pay outside of the socialist party was a definite benefit as well.

The job in question was simply to listen in on a meeting. Red had been in talks with a potential new client for a few weeks, but was not familiar with the government or military they had the backing of. In an age before the internet or widespread education of lawyers on government affairs, Tanya could empathize with wanting an “expert” like herself help navigate the negotiations of a government contract.

It was night and save for a few small lights illuminating the numbers of each warehouse, the surroundings were pitch black. Tanya never felt safer, however, as Red had brought along 4 strong-looking griffons to guard them.

‘I can only lament I don’t have the pull to get a few guards of my own. While the city is seldom dangerous – with the worst criminals joining the bandits rather than sticking around – it doesn't change the fact I am physically far weaker and vulnerable to any would-be pickpocket or criminal.’

It was why she had devised a map of the city in her mind: with routes and contacts she could use to get out of trouble. Often that trouble even came in the form of the soldiers themselves! The supposed "police" of the slums would demand the package she was carrying for work! It was truly lamentable that even the army was not immune to corruption if they would stoop so low as to try to steal from a chick hard on her luck.

Her train of thought was broken as Red asked her a question.

“How’s the disguise?”

Tanya huffed. She gestured to the so-called “disguise”. It was little more than a dirty vest and flat cap that hid her hair bundled up inside.

“This was just what I normally wore as a courier. I’ll admit that nogriff would probably recognize me – not that I’m exactly well known outside of a news article or two – so you won’t need to worry about my newfound celebrity affecting the meeting.”

That was something she had pushed for and Red agreed with. She did not want to mix up whatever government business Red was involved in with Tanya’s party work. She had learned from experience that the moment her “socialist political leanings” were known, business deals and job offers made themselves scarce very quickly.

Tanya looked up at Red with a questioning look.

“So, what has you suspicious of this potential client?”

Red shrugged.

“I’m suspicious of everygriff; it’s the nature of my job. Still, these griffons have me more concerned than usual. Despite having plenty of choice, they come to little old me in the slums to support their plan that… well, you’ll find out soon enough. You’re here to determine if whatever they’re saying is true.”

Tanya smiled, glad to finally have a proper capitalist as a boss for once.

‘A stark contrast to that other so-called “business owner” Ernst Thälgriff. While I could empathize with a former-capitalist who found themselves working for the socialists, he always came to me to solve his problems for him! Compared to Red who’s just taking my suggestions in mind, it’s night and day. Really, if Ernst didn’t want to run the factory, he should’ve given the job to somegriff else!”

It was the success of that factory that had Tanya looking to make her own business. If a failure like Ernst could do well in the current economy, there was no way she could fail. She only hoped that the small victory the socialists had that day lit a fire under the butts of the Industrialists to work harder. It was clear that they had become complacent with the lack of competition.

They arrived at the warehouse, a small building that sat on the Cloudbury River. It was little more than a holding area for goods coming in or out from the harbor, but it was something Red owned and so could be certain there would be no issues or people getting in the way of the business. Upon entering the warehouse, they were greeted by the sight of a pair of male Republican Army officers in uniform. They went quickly to shake Red’s claw and introduce themselves simply by their ranks: Colonel and Major.

The Colonel looked down at Tanya with confusion before turning to Red.

“And who’s this, Red? I’d assumed you would be considering our offer with the utmost seriousness.”

Red smiled, patting Tanya on the head. The chick was quick to swat away the older griffon’s touch with a scowl.

“Don’t worry about this little tyke. Tina here will just be listening in. She has something of an eidetic memory and considering you refused anything be written down, I wanted to make sure nothing spoken here would be missed.”

The Major turned to his Colonel.

“Well?”

The Colonel shrugged.

“It’s not important. Just make sure the chick’s not a distraction.”

With that out of the way, they all sat down on simple wooden chairs. Red gestured to Tanya and herself.

“While I’ve talked about it through intermediaries, in the interests of all of us here, would you mind repeating your offer to me?”

The Colonel nudged the Major who coughed into his claw.

“Well, we’re here on behalf of certain high-ranking members of the military who have issues with the current state of affairs in the Republic. In the near future, they plan to stage a coup. When this happens, we would like the support of those of you in the slums. You will be given a radio frequency and a set of orders to cause civil disobedience: block roads, break electrical poles, that sort of thing. You have guarantees that the local officials will be too distracted to make any problems for you and you will be paid in advance.”

Tanya was stunned.

‘I knew the military would be upset with how massive the bandit issue has become, but I didn’t think they would stoop to joining their ranks! Using violence to overthrow the democratically elected President- ah, I suppose there are no more national elections.’

It was frustrating now that Tanya thought it through. This was the reason why democracies were so important to the stability of the modern world: it provided a clear and fair outlet for dispute without violence. An election would clearly show how accepted the views of these military officers were. Sometimes a revolt could still happen, such as in Japan prior to the 2nd World War. Tanya knew the outcome of such actions and adamantly disagreed with the way those student-officer protests grew to control the country into an expansionist power that had to be stopped by the United States. Regardless of how they might fail, elections were still one more hurdle that could have stopped these officers from considering a coup as their only recourse.

The Major took out a briefcase. Opening it up, he revealed stacks of Skyfallian Idol bills. Even with a quick conversion in her head, Tanya realized it was more money than she had ever seen in one place. It was enough to outright buy the factory Erich had developed with her input.

The Colonel was quick to close the briefcase and tapped on its leather construction with a talon.

“I hope it doesn’t need to be said that taking this money we offer on good faith… but not performing the tasks would be looked at very poorly. The army is not an organization to be crossed.”

Red waved a claw dismissively.

“I understand. It’s an interesting proposal, but I’m concerned with the consequences. While you might say that the local MPs will be “distracted” that does not give me a lot of confidence. No offense, but your belief in victory is biased. What guarantees could you provide us if you fail your little “coup”?”

The Major stood up from his chair and pointed a talon at her accusingly.

“You-”

The Colonel cut his compatriot off with a pat on their arm.

“You’re right, of course. We’re a secretive cabal in the military coming to you out of self-interest. That being said, win or lose, things will be too complicated in Cloudbury to worry about small fry like yourself. It’s also why we don’t mind you knowing a hint of our plans in advance. Nogriff would believe you. You can take that as a warning: do the job and get out of the city. While we’re confident of our victory, like all great change, the citizens will be bearing a disproportionate amount of the burden.”

Red stood up.

“Thank you for your time… Give me a moment outside and I’ll give you my answer shortly.”

Tanya walked out of the room with Red who signaled to her four guards.

“Keep watch of the door. Make sure those two aren’t listening in.”

They nodded and stood by the door, two inside and two outside. With the door closed, Red turned to Tanya.

“So, you heard the deal. The pay is very generous. A shady deal for a shady businessgriff like myself. I know you’ve never been a fan of me calling myself a criminal, but that’s all people like that see when they look at me.”

Tanya took off her flat cap and frustratingly shook her mop of hair back into some semblance of order.

“Urgh, this damn hat. I don’t remember my old flat cap being this uncomfortable. I must’ve grown out my hair too long.”

Turning to Red, Tanya sneered.

“Anyway, those so-called “officers” are disgusting. They pretend that they are doing all this for the good of the country, but how could hiring people to damage public property be anything but stooping down to the same level as the bandits they’re supposed to be fighting? And the less said about their supposed coup the better. While elections are banned, there are still plenty of ways to resolve their disagreements without resorting to violence.”

Red shrugged her withers.

“You’re preaching to the choir, Tanya. That said, remember what we’re here for. Is there any truth to their cause or what they’re saying? Do you have any idea who they might be?”

Tanya shook her head.

“Nothing, which I suppose is a point in their favor. If they’re going to be criminal trash, at least they’re smart enough not being caught. They do appear genuine at least. I spent quite a bit of time with a “Major Ravenbeak” during my time being paraded around in the Citizens’ Militia and I can tell the Major is wearing the right uniform. I can also believe that the military would be this upset with the President. I hadn’t thought Kemerskai would let it spiral this far out-of-control, but the issues are deep. Major Ravenbeak mentioned that the army loses almost as much griffons to defection as they do to causalities. The fighting up north is a slow and brutal slog with no end in sight.”

Red nodded.

“So they’re legitimate, as I thought… then the real question is, can they really win their coup? Should I work with them? You saw it yourself. That’s a lot of money, and it would go twice as far in the slums. I could do a lot of good with it.”

Tanya scowled and pointed to Red aggressively.

“Or a lot of bad. Red, I remember when you were just an accountant with dreams of taking down your corrupt boss. Despite what those people think, you’re not a criminal.”

Red frowned.

“That was a long time ago, Tanya. Things changed-”

Tanya jabbed the “criminal” in the chest.

“Is this something your boss would have thought twice about? Is there perhaps another accountant looking at your position right now? You. Are. Not. A. Criminal, but you can be – would be – if you took this offer. I know the slums are hard – I had a few offers like that when I lived there – but I turned them all down. I’m not a criminal and I know you don’t want to be one either. Someday, this country will turn things around and when that happens, I want to do business with an honest businessgriff.”

Red gave her a thoughtful look before she shook her head with a chuckle.

“I thought all your time working with the government would've changed you, but perhaps I’m the one who’s changed. You’re right. I won’t let myself go down the same dark path as my former boss and I suppose that starts with turning down lucrative dirty deal with corrupt military officials, huh?”

Tanya smiled.

“And I don’t suppose you would mind if I leaked what I heard today either? I don’t want criminals like that taking control of the government. Things are bad enough as it is.”

Red shrugged.

“You can try. They were intentionally vague on the specifics, but maybe letting everygriff know that something serious is coming could help things. It’s clear that being in disguise was a good idea. I doubt they would’ve leaked half the information they did if they knew you were the ‘flag-waving socialist chick’.”

Red gestured towards the door.

“I’ll tell the officers in there the bad news, in the meantime, I’ll have one of my henchgriffs walk you home.”





*Click*

As Tanya and Red parted ways, an almost imperceptible click of a camera shutter recorded the event. In the depths of one of the many alleyways of the warehouse district, a griffon in a black trench-coat stuffed their camera in a pocket and quickly escaped into the night.
> 8 - …Right Time…
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Traitorous Government Forces Swept Aside – Founding of the new Griffonian National Republic!

Senior officers in the Republican Army have had enough!
At the crack of dawn, the traitors of the former Kemerskai regime were swept aside in decisive engagements throughout Cloudbury!
Victorious soldiers marched though Republican square pronouncing the new name of the nation, the Griffonian National Republic!
Enacting sweeping reforms against corrupt industries, traitors and pacifists; the Nationalists swear to destroy the weakness that has let bandits and decay infect the once-glorious institutions of our Republic!

Until now, little is known of the upper echelons of the new national leadership, save that they will work hard in the best interest of all loyal citizens!
Salvation has come to the Republic; all hail the Griffonian Nationalist Revolutionary Front; all hail the 1000 year Republic!

- Scrapped article for the front page of the Griffonian Republic National Newspaper, Der Republifaner (2nd Week of June 1003 Edition)





June 9th, 1003 – L-NRP Party Headquarters, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Rikard POV

Rikard Astler – leader of the L-NRP – was calm and collected. He had a great night’s sleep yesterday and with most of the paperwork finished, he had little that required his personal attention. Of course, he did not become the leader of a socialist party because he was lazy, no, his free time meant he could do the productive things he enjoyed. Namely, he could tour the workplaces of all the unions and co-ops and talk with the griffons that worked there. He thrived best when deep in conversations about ways the workers could better organize themselves, expand their network of contacts, or just learn more about the ways the Party could help them protect and grow their rights. His love of socialism came from an admiration of the common worker: their struggle, their dedication and their stories.

It did not seem he would be able to do much of this today, despite his so-called “free time”.

Instead, Rikard’s office was the scene of a thoroughly chastised-looking Tanya who was being reprimanded by a very angry looking Ernst Thällgriff who pointed a talon at the chick aggressively. Rikard made an effort to ignore the conversation happening, but it was a false hope; he could only hope to mediate the issue so he could get back to work.

“Where in Eyr’s name were you, Tanya! I looked high-and-low all day and I couldn’t find you anywhere! If you’re going out someplace as dangerous as Cloudbury at night, it’s common sense to let somegriff know where you’re headed!”

Tanya winced.

“Ah, I suppose it’s been a long time since I needed somegriff to know where I am. I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”

Ernst’s anger seemed to evaporate at the implication. Rikard could only roll his eyes at how “soft” Ernst was on the Party’s precocious little mascot.

Rikard wrote a note on a piece of scrap piece of paper: ‘Tanya needs to be treated like a child more… teach her a little more common sense!’ He slipped the note in the drawer before Tanya had a chance to see it.

She shook her head.

“Never mind that! I’ve important news to tell you! There’s going to be a coup on the government any day now!”

Rikard frowned. It was a common enough rumor that came and went every couple weeks. With how terrible the situation was and how active most griffons were politically, it was a logical conclusion it would happen someday. Normally he would just ignore wild accusations… however, coming from Tanya, he wanted some clarification before he could dismiss it outright.

“You’re not normally one to make unsubstantiated claims. That’s a serious allegation. Where did you hear this from?”

Tanya smirked and leaned against his desk.

“Straight from the conspirators themselves. I had reconnected with an old friend who wanted me to listen in on a business proposal from the military. As it turned out, the officers we met wanted her to damage public infrastructure in coordination with their coup attempt! They were real officers too. I didn’t recognize them, but I can tell a legitimate officer’s uniform anywhere and the amount of cash they were throwing around isn’t something the average criminal could get their claws on.”

Rikard frowned.

“I suppose it could be argued it’s a long time coming. Are you absolutely certain this isn’t a misunderstanding?”

Tanya nodded gravely.

“Completely sure.”

Rikard sighed and grabbed a pen and paper and began writing a letter.

“I can make sure the workers are armed and kept indoors while any potential situation blows over. I know that Vice President Sunglider wouldn’t be involved in something like this, so I’ll bring it up with him. We can investigate this together. I’ll have to use back-channels, however. The last thing this Party needs is the President breathing down my neck for “instigating unrest”.”

Ernst turned to Rikard with a frustrated expression.

“Are you really going to just ignore the fact Tanya was somehow involved with these treasonous officers?!”

Ernst turned to Tanya.

“Who exactly were you meeting with that they’d put you in that sort of situation?!”

Tanya crossed her forelegs and looked away. It seemed she did not need either of them reminding her of how stupid she had been.

“That’s personal. My friend was rightfully concerned with the sort of “talk” these officers were having and I helped them out. I don’t know what you’re worried about anyway. Nogriff was hurt and I was in disguise. What possible harm could I have caused?”





June 11th, 1003 – R-NRP Party Headquarters, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Heinrich POV

Heinrich Kingfeather – leader of the Right Wing of the National Republican Party – sat in his office smoking a cigar. He was calm and collected as he engaged in his favorite pastime: looking out of his office’s large bay window and into the distance where the Cloudbury harbor dominated the view. Dozens of ships were loading and unloading cargo from the Cloudbury River. Tungsten and Iron from Lostgate, machine parts and electronics from Squark, Lumber and Copper from Cavegrove, and imports that had traveled from Winghagen ports all found their way on that river and into the harbor. Every single shipment was thanks to the investment and expertise of industrialists of his party and benefited from policies he made.

‘This must be what a painter feels like when looking at his completed work in a gallery, or an architect admiring the facade of a palace he helped build.’

It was a pastime he rarely indulged in. Normally, his schedule would be packed and his free time in the office was better spent reviewing speeches with his ghost writer or writing letters to various aristocrats in the Empire or abroad who he still had contact with regarding beneficial trade agreements and closer economic ties. This week, however, was an exception. He had cleared out most of his schedule and had spent most of his time reviewing reports from his most loyal assets. The reports had him stressed, but he refused to let it show. Instead, he let the scene before him distract and calm him down.

‘It would be no good if the star of the show was nervous. I have to instill strength if the coming operation is to be a success-’

His thoughts were interrupted when his brother walked into the room. Victor Kingfeather was a decade younger than him with far darker-colored feathers than his. It was a bit of a scandal in the family at the time, but their father kept up appearances. While Victor was never given the breadth of education and contacts as Heinrich had, he was still successful. A lawyer and a business owner, Victor had carved a niche for himself and Heinrich was proud of their familial connection. While Victor would never be somegriff who could take command of the R-NRP, he was a close confidant Heinrich could trust with confidential matters.

Victor had a gloomy expression.

“Brother, we have a problem.”

Heinrich sighed. Turning away from his window, he tapped the excess ash from his cigar onto an ashtray at his desk.

“So close to the coup? How serious is it?”

What the Griffonian Nationalist Revolutionary Front did not realize was that their coup had been a brainchild of his for close to a year.

The R-NRP and Warlord Rosewing had been working together in secret for the past five years. Heinrich and Rosewing shared many common interests and had compromised on sharing the country between themselves in the event of their joint victory. The R-NRP would help Rosewing bring back a constitutional monarchy to Cloudbury and in exchange, the new government would guarantee the Free Market and a liberal economic policy. Of course, no partnership like that could last without stakes for both sides. To solidify their cooperation, Heinrich leaked information on the troop movements of C-NRP-aligned officers.

If they found themselves all killed and some of their equipment fell into Heinrich’s claws? Well, that was just business.

Thanks to that, the R-NRP climbed steadily in the polls despite many recent setbacks. It was far more reliable than his policies, but he would not complain. While he knew those would bear fruit in the coming years and had solidified a powerful industrial bloc in his name, they were not very popular with the average griffon.

When the GNRF contacted Rosewing exposing their attacks on Republican Army patrols, it was a blessing in disguise. Heinrich had his most loyal assets spend the past year uncovering the coup plot and mapping out the GNRF membership. Once the coup was underway and the C-NRP was destroyed in the fighting, all he had to do was destroy the GNRF and take joint-control of the government with Rosewing. A foolproof plan.

‘Brother’s information should change nothing, but I’ll indulge him…’

Ignorant of his brother’s thoughts, Victor set his briefcase onto a nearby coffee table and opened it. He grabbed an envelope inside and placed it on Heinrich’s desk.

“I can’t say for certain how serious the information is, but we may have underestimated Suntail. The GNRF coup might go deeper than we thought.”

The revelation that Suntail was leading the GNRF was unsurprising. He had been very vocal against the President yet seemed to do nothing politically about it. However, there was little proof. While there was plenty of rumor and hearsay within their ranks, the top leadership of the new ultra-nationalist party had kept their identities completely hidden from the rank-and-file.

Heinrich went to open the envelope, but hesitated.

“Are you sure this isn’t a ruse? We have a lot riding on this. Suntail’s probably just hedging his bets. Him branching out wouldn’t be enough to change our strategy.”

Victor sighed. Walking over to the desk, he pulled out the documents from the envelope and spread them out. He tapped a talon on a grainy black-and-white photograph.

“I’m telling you, you need to see this. Remind you of anygriff?”

Heinrich was surprised.

“But that is… Tanya? The chick mediating all the unions disputes and had that whole “flag fiasco” a few months ago, right? Isn’t she with the L-NRP? What's she doing in all this?”

He went to pick up one of the documents to read over, but Victor cut him off.

“Don’t bother reading the memos, I’ll give you a summary. As you know, part of our preparations for the coup has been keeping track of all known GNRF members for the past few weeks. We’ve a pretty firm idea of their activities… or so we thought.”

Shifting the documents around, Victor pointed to two more photographs of a pair of military officers.

“Two of their members – a Colonel Scarletwing and Major Diamondclaw – were seen heading for a meeting at Cloudbury harbor. We’d assumed it was a standard meeting for their coup preparations: recruit a few thugs for some task or another. Of course, we still had them tailed despite the assumption. We never suspected that somegriff like Tanya would be there. She was in disguise too. If she hadn’t let slip her cover in front of our agent, we would have known nothing about this.”

Heinrich digested the news for a moment.

“It begs the question: is this the first time they ever had a meeting… or just the first time they slipped up?”

Victor shook his head.

“Sure, but the more important question is: why would the Socialists want to work with somegriff like those ultra-nationalist psychos? The militants in the C-NRP I could understand, but the L-NRP? What worker rights do they think the GNRF is going to give them?”

Heinrich thought it over for a moment.

‘A compromise? No, not with the GNRF, they hardly even considered working together with Rosewing. Something to do with Cloudburian rights? No, there wouldn’t be any trust. They both hate monarchists obviously but that wouldn’t be enough… what would the party… no, what would Tanya want with-’

His eyes widened. Reaching into his desk, he searched for a report he had commissioned months ago. Reading the summary again had him convinced.

‘I always had a bad feeling, now I know why!’

Taking out the document, he turned the photo back to his brother.

“Tanya, she’s the key! Forget the L-NRP, what’s she most well known for?”

Victor looked confused.

“The flag waving incident? Sure, I could see Tanya being enough of a patriotic nut-job to buy into the GNRF nonsense, but if this is just a case of Tanya alone joining the GNRF, it isn’t anything to worry about. Without the backing of the L-NRP, she’s nothing.”

Heinrich slammed the report on his desk with one claw, while jabbing his half-burnt cigar in his brother’s direction with the other.

“No, damn it, look at the big picture! A young orphan that successful with no training? Just young enough to seem harmless, but old enough for her genius to be remotely plausible if you didn’t look too deeply. Then there’s the unions, the rallies, the flag incident. Until now it seemed fine to ignore it. After all, it’s just some L-NRP activist, right? Their polling was negligible… we focused so much on that we completely ignored the other possibility: she was conning everygriff about her true loyalties."

He opened the report, pointing generally at the actions Tanya had taken over the past few months.

“None of her actions were particularly socialist – she wasn’t razing factories or forming unions – but it did build up her reputation in the hearts and minds of the common griffon: the peoples’ patriot, the peoples’ rights activist. Our reports on the GNRF’s goals has the re-creation of the Citizens’ Militia as a top priority and who better to be their figurehead then the “flag-waving chick”. The L-NRP surged 10% in the polls in Cloudbury from the flag incident alone. If even just 10% of those griffons rose up to support her…”

He did not need to say any more. There were over 2 million griffons in Cloudbury, almost 50% of the Republic’s population.

Victor looked horrified.

“20,000 citizens -no, volunteers; an army poised perfectly to raid the city’s armories and overwhelm the garrisons. As former members of the militia, they’d be trained combatants; but ignoring that, would the army even fire against its own citizens? With how things are going, they might give up without resistance. Combined with the thousands of GNRF loyalists we know about, they could turn Cloudbury into a veritable fortress. Even with the rest of the army on our side, it would take weeks to crack it. By then, griffons would start wondering which side of the city’s borders contained the real government. The militarists in the C-NRP would defect first and then-”

Heinrich had heard enough. He smashed the dregs of his cigar into the ashtray and pointed at the door.

“I want Plan B started right now. I want Suntail’s revolution eviscerated before it can begin. Damn that bastard; played us all for fools!”

‘I should‘ve seen it coming! Why would a socialist suddenly find ways to compromise with factory owners she should hate? I even have reports from the translators at several of the meetings noting her interest in joining my Party. They all took it as a joke but in hindsight, it should’ve been obvious her loyalties were questionable. If the GNRF was willing to pay the right price…’

Victor made to leave, but scratched his head.

“But what if Rosewing doesn’t-”

Heinrich pointed to the door again.

“Out! I’ll get Rosewing on board. If this is even half as bad as we think, he won’t want any part of it. Don’t waste time! If we’re to survive to see the next week, we need to act now!”

He looked down at Tanya’s grainy picture and noted the other griffons in frame. Griffons that were decidedly not the two officers they had been tracking.

‘I’ll need to create a complete dossier of all of Tanya’s contacts and find some evidence to have her arrested. She’s already ruined one plan. I’d be a fool if I let her ruin another.’





June 12th, 1003 – Radio Broadcast Center, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Suntail POV

Reinhard Suntail – leader of the Griffonian Nationalist Revolutionary Front – jostled in the fabric-covered closed-cab of the cargo truck as it made its way down the empty Cloudburian streets. It was close to midnight and with electricity rationing in effect, less than half the streetlights were on. Despite the darkness, the blue-feathered griffon was calm and collected. While Suntail had many reasons to feel otherwise, he refused to be anything but focused while the other occupants in the cab could see him. They were the other high-ranking officers and generals of the Griffonian Nationalist Revolutionary Front, including his second-in-command Chiron Stormfeather. It would be to nogriff’s benefit if the leader of the movement made them nervous about what they were going to do.

The three trucks arrived at their destination: the Cloudbury Radio Broadcast Center; one of only twelve such buildings in the country and the only one in the city. If their coup was to succeed, it needed the approval of the people, and the best way to achieve that was over the radio. Once the majority was convinced that the cause was either just or inevitable, the nation would be his.

The trucks screeched to a halt. The occupants of Suntail’s truck remained seated while the other 4 trucks quickly dismounted their occupants. Half of the 60 soldiers and officers rushed into the Radio building. This late, Suntail knew the radio station would just be re-hashing pre-recorded news and playing music. The place would be almost empty and no challenge for the battle-hardened elite unit he brought with him.

As such, he was unsurprised when – less than 5 minutes later – a Lieutenant ran up to the back of the truck and made a crisp salute.

“Sir! Building’s clear. We have control of the equipment and the broadcast. We have it playing the usual music as you ordered, but we can change it at any time, sir!”

Nodding, Suntail turned to the other Generals in the truck.

“Things are all prepared. We should get ready.”

While the rest of the soldiers, officers and generals rushed to do their jobs, Suntail had little need. So early in the plan, his job was to verify that nothing went wrong, so he quietly walked through the halls of the building, overseeing the actions of his men.

In an office near the front door, the previous occupants of the building – the secretary and two radio operators – were bound and gagged. In other rooms, the Generals were making prepared-statements with the audio equipment, recording it such that it could be looped over the airwaves. The statements would dictate the political motivations of the GNRF, appeal to the subordinates of the generals to join the cause, and convince fence-sitters to stay out of the fighting. In the remaining areas, junior technicians were modifying the equipment to get a little more range by removing limiters that would normally be set to preserve equipment lifespan. The equipment would be better served in getting as many griffons listening to their broadcast as possible.

Finally he entered the conference room where his headquarters was set up. Officers were actively giving orders to the thousands of their members preparing to make their move during the coup. Groups were given targets destroying key logistics centers, blocking streets, or boarding up buildings to create strong-points. The goal of the GNRF was to turn Cloudbury into a fortress while Rosewing and the army clashed outside.

That was why none of this could be done any earlier to ensure that all the recordings and orders were still reversible. If Rosewing failed to live up to his end of the bargain, the tapes could be burned and the orders rescinded before there was a chance for the plan to be revealed. It would set them back, but they would know Rosewing could not be trusted and could try again.

Everything that went on in the radio broadcast center was kept utterly confidential. No other GNRF members outside the most loyal were let in on the location.

Suntail looked to a clock: 11:22pm. He turned to his aide. She was a brown-feathered Major who monitored a bulky portable radio set. As she had headphones on, Suntail tapped her shoulder to get her attention.

“Is there any trouble? Anything from our spies on the ground? We’ve rushed to ensure the element of surprise, but there’s still time to call things off. Rosewing will begin his attacks in a little over half-an-hour.”

His aide was nervous.

“Nothing out-of-the-ordinary beyond the usual issues we've picked up for the past few days, sir.”

Suntail frowned.

There had been a number of problematic developments in the past few days. The armed security of the R-NRP had more guards than normal and the L-NRP workplaces were given rifles. Even some of the C-NRP militants had recalled a few brigades into the city. In isolation they were not a cause for concern, but put together it made it clear that their plans had leaked.

There had been calls to call the coup off, but the fact that these measures had been going on for several days proved that the leak was only the existence of the plot rather than specifics. Rosewing – when he heard of this – had insisted on delaying the coup, but Suntail’s officer council had refused. If the coup was delayed for too long, then more information would come out and the secrecy of their hidden Party might be in jeopardy.

With no new information, Suntail sat at the table in the middle of the conference room. Impatiently, he began reviewing his cue cards for his speech. When their coup succeeded, he would need to address the nation to prepare for the major changes that would be taking place.

‘I’m not nervous… but it would be a major setback if things didn’t proceed perfectly.’

Several agonizing minutes passed. Just before midnight – the latest time for Rosewing’s attack to go off before the coup was aborted – the Major threw off her headphones and turned to Suntail.

“Sir! Team Grün is in position at the Presidential Residence but there’s a problem! The President still hasn’t made it home!”

Suntail was confused. This was the last thing he was expecting to go wrong with the plan.

“What do they mean? The President hasn’t had any late-night responsibilities since the end of the Citizens’ Militia months ago.”

The Major nodded and turned back to the radio.

“Give me a moment to clarify… yes, yes, can you repeat… no, the status of the President… alright. Sir! The President has yet to leave his evening meeting with Heinrich Kingfeather.”

Suntail frowned, grasping for an explanation.

“That meeting should have ended over 6 hours ago! Why was I not informed- no. Something’s wrong. I want an agent getting eyes on the President right now!”

Chiron Stormfeather – Suntail’s second-in-command – marched into the room with an angry expression.

“Sir! You know we don’t have any agents near Kingfeather’s office, it’s crawling with his guards! That’s tantamount to calling off this whole mission! Rosewing is going to attack any minute! This is the best shot we’ll have of winning this thing!”

Suntail closed his eyes.

‘My gut’s telling me this is a trap; too many things have gone wrong… but if I call this off without proof, I would be ruined politically…’

Opening his eyes, he turned to his aide.

“What’s the status of the other teams? Have our agents on the ground noticed anything out-of-the-ordinary?”

The aide held up a talon in the universal “wait a moment” gesture.

“Sir! All teams are in position.”

Suntail looked at the time: 12:02am. He sighed.

“Rosewing is past his window for his attack. There’s no word from our agents at the 8th and 9th Division Barracks? We should be hearing explosions or shots fired by now.”

His aide nodded to confirm she heard him and then spent a minute frantically turning dials.

“Sir… I can’t reach them. I don’t understand, they were responding just a few minutes ago-”

Suntail rose from his seat, his eyes fierce. There were too many things going wrong.

“We’ve been had! Activate Plan Omega: pull the teams back, burn the evidence and disperse!”

Stormfeather grabbed Suntail by the uniform and gave his commander a harsh glare.

“How can you be so sure! We’re so close to-”

Suntail roughly threw the clawed limb of his second-in-command off of him.

“We were so close to achieving our goals – our dreams – but we’ve been betrayed! The President is missing, Rosewing’s attack hasn’t gone off, our operatives aren’t reporting in. That last one is especially noteworthy. Think! They were wearing long coats to hide their weapons and uniforms. A “concerned citizen” couldn’t have seen through their motives, yet alone taken them down without us hearing about it.”

Suntail turned to the other Generals in the room.

“So long as the President remains a fool, there will be patriots willing to save the Republic from his foolishness. It’s up to us to ensure their dreams of national unity live on. We will find out who betrayed us, but we can only do so if we survive to find out! Get out of here!”

Generals all nodded gravely, but before they could do anything more, the building shook.

*BOOM*

“Sir! Team Rot and Braun are under attack by unknown assailants!”
“Team Grün is falling back after the Republican Army surrounded the Presidential Residence!”
“Sir! I’ve reports of patrols shutting down all access to the city! Roadblocks are being put together!”
“Our guards have been attacked! There’s machine guns and grenades hitting our positions here in at the Radio Tower! We’re surrounded!”

All at once, reports and panic filled the room. The Generals were quick to realize the severity of the issue and were the first to rush out. The Majors and Lieutenants soon followed, grabbing their radio equipment and whatever papers they had on claw. Suntail could almost respect the speed and discipline of his subordinates as they rushed to burn evidence and pack thing away. Almost… save for the fact it was too late.

‘They’re attacking all of our forces at once. They even knew about our headquarters in the Radio Tower… how? How could we be subverted so thoroughly?’

Shaking his head, he made his way down the corridor just in time to see the his soldiers executing the civilians. They held the secretary and two radio operators to the wall and shot them point-blank with their rifles. With the gags in their beaks, their deaths were mercifully silent and they slumped together in a heap.

Suntail grimaced.

While it had been in the procedure he had outlined for Plan Omega to remove any witnesses, it seemed pointless now. Plan Omega had been designed in case Rosewing failed to live up to his end of the deal. The deaths of the witnesses would have ensured that himself and the Generals’ identities would not be uncovered. With their operation so thoroughly compromised, however, the deaths were almost certainly for nothing.

As he approached the entrance, the staccato of gunfire reached a crescendo. As it came into view, he was horrified.

The five trucks they had arrived on were now full of holes and on fire. The door had been blown apart from a grenade or mortar and his griffons were fighting a desperate struggle slowly retreating further inside the building as rifles and machine guns saturated the position with a hail of deadly crossfire.

Suntail sighed. He walked up to the Lieutenant in charge of the Platoon and patted him on the withers.

“Order your soldiers to ceasefire! Raise the white flag!”

The Lieutenant turned to him with righteous indignation on his face. That expression turned to shock when he realized who was talking to him.

“Sir! The situation is dangerous! Please get back. I’ll get things under control soon and-”

Suntail shook his head.

“Lieutenant… It’s over. Our trucks are destroyed, the enemy has us pinned inside and the situation will only get worse. If we somehow made it out, we would have an hour of flying before we cleared the city. Considering the Anti-Air defenses, that would be very inadvisable. We won’t make it in time. We’re done.”

The Lieutenant seemed in disbelief.

“But reinforcements-”

Suntail shook his head.

“There won’t be any. Even if we had told the other groups about this operation, they are all being attacked.”

A few moments passed before the Lieutenant’s gaze hardened and he raised a claw in salute.

“Understood, sir… It was an honor serving with you.”





June 13th, 1003 – Radio Broadcast Center, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Heinrich POV

Heinrich Kingfeather was on top of the world.

Over the past day-and-a-half, he had been hard at work implementing Plan B: the complete dismantling of the Griffonian Nationalist Revolutionary Front. The first stage was to disseminate the identities and organizational structure of the GNRF to President Kemerskai and the leaders of the other political parties. The leaders of the L-NRP and C-NRP were surprisingly easily convinced and were quick to provide their own suggestions for the operation. With the support of Major Generals Jonas Hafslund and Walter Emerich of the 8th and 9th Infantry Divisions, they coordinated a synchronized assault on the thousands of GNRF soldiers stationed throughout the city at the stroke of midnight.

While they focused on their own plans, however, Kingfeather saved the pièce de résistance for himself: the capture of the highest ranking officials. While he did not know which place they would be headed because of their secrecy, he did know they would arrive there on truck. When their five trucks passed into the city an hour before midnight, his agents informed him and he was quick to capitalize. He already had two companies of his guards outfitted with heavy equipment ready. They closed in and surrounded the radio broadcast building but kept hidden. When the clock struck midnight, they opened fire along with the other attacks.

The inevitable soon followed and they rose the white flag of surrender.

His griffons rushed in and quickly confiscated weapons and started tying up the soldiers for arrest. Kingfeather was shocked at some of the participants. The Generals were mainly members of the High Command! It included some of the best tactical minds still left in the Republic: Barth Sievert, Karl Vettericht, Jansen Fryshatter and Chiron Stormfeather. He had known the GNRF had capable support, but he did not realize to such an extent!

‘I really should thank my luck I had taken down their coup when I did! Even joining Rosewing in a joint strike against them… would I’ve been able to come out on top? If the President decided to sit it out or – Arcturius forbid – join their cause, they would have most of the military commanders on their side. While we might have the numbers advantage, that had not done the bandits much good. Would we have fared better?’

He shook his head. It was a moot point to consider now, but a reassuring one. Ever since he decided to cancel the coup plan, he felt more and more confident. He was now poised to make significant political gains from being the “mastermind behind ending the coup”, but without the risk. With one less headache to worry about, he could focus on the real threats.

Finally, one of the soldiers brought out the leader: Reinhard Suntail. He was tied up and had a black eye blemishing his blue-feathered face.

As Suntail saw Kingfeather approach, he spat.

“So it was you. I’d hoped that Sunglider had finally wised up to the need for radical change; that seeing the Republic in tatters, he’d rallied the militarists against me. Instead, it’s the filth that caused this country to deteriorate in the first place. This nation truly is doomed.”

Kingfeather laughed.

“That’s rich coming from a so-called “leader” hiding in the shadows. What, couldn’t convince anygriff of your psychotic ideals that you needed to stage a coup in secret? Well, lucky for the rest of us that your plan was destined to fail.”

At those words, one of the nearby soldiers let out a sqwak and charged at him. He was shot by one of Kingfeather’s guards before being tackled to the ground. By the lack of movement, the soldier was dead.

Suntail sneered.

“Keep your damn mouth shut! Your place in this Republic was a mistake.”

Kingfeather – shocked by the sudden violence – awkwardly straightened his tie. Realizing he was in the midst of the most fanatical of the GNRF, he took a few steps back towards his guards.

“I’ll give you one thing, you almost had me fooled. I thought I knew everything about your plans: the preparations, the membership, the tactics. You had my agents convinced. However, you made one small mistake and it all came crashing down. You should’ve known that trusting Tanya would be your downfall. Nogriff with loyalties that flexible could be trusted.”

It was a small lie that Kingfeather hoped would get under Suntail’s skin. It was true to an extent: he personally did not think Tanya could be trusted, but Tanya was still loyal to the GNRF as far as he knew. Still, it was her mistake that revealed the gap in his planning and caused the counter-coup. He was confident that time and evidence would reveal where the chick’s true loyalties lay.

Rather than angry or defensive, Suntail appeared confused.

“Who?”
> 9 - …Was the Crime
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Off to the Firing Squad! Sentencing Carried Out for Top Officials Involved with Attempted Coup

After the startling developments over the past few weeks, the sentences for the leaders of June’s Insurrection have finally concluded. For their active involvement: Reinhard Suntail, Chiron Stormfeather and Barth Sievert will be executed by firing squad in the Republican Square next week along with many of their subordinate officers. In a surprising show of mercy, hundreds of soldiers and officers including Jansen Freyshatter and Karl Vettericht of the High Command will have their sentences commuted to several months of hard labor. The President has said that – should they show true remorse for their crimes – they may be welcomed back into the military.

Their treasonous organization – the Griffonian National Revolutionary Front – was officially banned and citizens are reminded to report anygriff distributing their literature to the nearest authorities. With their treason clear for all to see, only fools would consider protesting the decision.

While such acts of treachery should be condemned, other acts must be lauded. The conviction of these terrorists would not be possible without the timely actions of key members within the Right NRP. Thanks to their intelligence gathering disseminated prior to the coup, the government was able to quickly apprehend the traitors with minimal risk to public safety. In recognition of this, President Kemerskai has hereby appointed Heinrich Kingfeather to Vice President, with Schnabel Sunglider replacing the traitor Suntail as Chief of Staff.

With the removal of treason and a refresh of the political cabinet, our analysts discuss the possible future of the Republican political landscape. – See page 2 for more

- Headline on the front page of the Griffonian Republic National Newspaper, Der Republifaner (1st Week of August 1003 Edition)





June 26th, 1003 – 9th Infantry Barracks Stockade, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Victor POV

The room was dim, with only a single, small, bright lamp sitting on a table between two griffons. On one side of the table was Victor Kingfeather: brother of the R-NRP leader and a lawyer. He volunteered to “help” the criminal investigations into the treason of the Griffonian National Revolutionary Front members and ensured the investigation went in beneficial directions. On the other side was ex-Major Diamondclaw, a former Republican Army officer and GNRF member. The officer had already been arrested and charged with treason, but he had also been a surprisingly cooperative. It seemed the quick downfall of his faction had changed his tune and he was very willing to betray his fellow comrades for a lesser sentence.

The ex-Major was finishing with his latest appeal.

“I’m telling you, you need to investigate Rosewing! He’s been killing Republican troops for years. I know what we did was wrong, but I won’t let that traitor get away with it!”

Victor suppressed a sigh.

‘They always focus on Rosewing. Do they think their petty grudge against him will change anything?’

It seemed to be a pattern with the GNRF members he’d interviewed. They were quick to lay blame on anygriff other than themselves. Some blamed the President, others the Vice President, some even felt the need to blame Victor’s brother to his face. In all cases, they wanted Rosewing to take the lion’s share of the blame.

Which was something that would not happen. It was why Victor had been so quick to act first in interrogating them. While he had no problems eventually giving the matter over to the regular authorities, he needed to find and destroy any evidence of Rosewing’s own treason. 

‘Of course, we can’t let that evidence get out. We were the ones who gave Rosewing intelligence on which patrols to hit in the first place. If Rosewing realizes we let him take some of the blame here, he might decide we should share some in return. While Rosewing losing Republican assets would hurt him, us losing the trust of the people would be a huge blow.’

Victor smiled at Diamondclaw.

“Of course, of course. We’re all servants of the Republic here. Just let me know where your evidence is and I’ll do my best to bring it up with the relevant authorities.”

Diamondclaw sneered.

“Gladly. It’s with the documents in our 3rd Safehouse in Cloudbury. We had to make sure it was stored separately from the common areas in case Rosewing or a traitor infiltrated our bases for a sneak attack.”

Victor pretended to nod sympathetically while writing down the location. It was likely a location that had already been searched, but he didn’t dare be anything less than completely thorough. He was confident that by the time the C-NRP and Vice President Sunglider took control of the investigation, the evidence would be long gone. There would merely be the collective testimony of a few dozen traitors who had plenty to gain from blaming Rosewing. While it would look suspicious, it was better than the alternative.

Having finished his writing, Victor leaned forwards on the small table between them.

“Now, I want to pivot the conversation over to your actions prior to the coup. We have evidence that you were sent to the harbor for a meeting with – what your documents describe as – a “criminal gang”. Can you describe the meeting that day?”

Diamondclaw nodded obediently and began describing the situation: receiving the orders, traveling to the warehouse and waiting for the contact. Victor opened a document and laid the grainy picture of Tanya and her entourage before him.

“Can you confirm that these are the griffons you met?”

Diamondclaw nodded.

“Yeah, that’s them. Red, the six bodyguards and the little chick. Seemed overkill, but I guess the whole thing must’ve seemed shady from their perspective… why do you care though? Nothing happened; the whole thing was a waste of time.”

Victor frowned. That was what the Colonel and the documents had said, but there had to be more. The Major had been very cooperative so far, so it was strange for him to lie now.

“We have the evidence, there’s no need to hide anything, just tell me what happened.”

Diamondclaw looked confused.

“Uh, sure? They came into the warehouse, we sat down, and we discussed the terms: they would do some damage in the city and we would pay them. We’d thought the deal was settled when they went out and had a little chat. Figured they maybe wanted to negotiate the cut or get more details, something like that. When Red came back she said no.”

Diamondclaw shrugged.

“It wasn’t a huge loss. We didn’t have any idea if they were any good – it was just a friend-of-a-friend sort of introduction – and we had a few more choices to go with. Even if we found nogriff, the deal was something we did more out of a need for perfection rather than necessity. Spending a little money for some assurances was a small price to pay, the Colonel said. We ended up finding another gang to do the job, but I wasn’t part of those negotiations. Considering how things went, I guess Red did the smart thing… lucky bastard.”

Victor shook his head and jabbed at the picture with a talon.

“There has to be more to the story. That chick there is Tanya of the L-NRP. You must’ve remembered something about her.”

Diamondclaw appeared shocked.

“What?! No her name was… uh, Lana or Tina or something. If it was Tanya I would have known- Damn! Could she have been the one to make the leak?”

Victor cocked his head to one side.

“Leak?”

Diamondclaw nodded.

“Yeah. You talked about that “secret counter-coup” you government griffs had in the works for a few months, but that was all kept quiet, right? Well, there was some shift in the parties just before the coup took off… it was right after that meeting too! As part of the negotiations, we needed to make clear that a coup was going to happen. If we didn’t, then any gang we had working for us would run scared at the first sign of trouble. We needed to make it clear the money we were burning was proportional to the risk. We’d thought it wouldn’t be a big deal – the coup was only a few days away, and we were talking to criminals after all – but if it was her… damn. We really had no chance did we…”

Victor used the griffon’s sudden bout of melancholy to his advantage to get him to slip a few more damning pieces of evidence, but after a while, Victor had no choice but to leave. He was not going to get anything else.

Out of the room and into the adjacent hallway, he used a telephone with a direct line to Heinrich Kingfeather’s office. He gave his brother a summary.

“… so that’s what I’ve found.”

Heinrich growled on the other end of the line.

“You can’t be serious, Victor?! Are you expecting me to believe that this whole plan fell apart because of a misunderstanding?! What in Maar’s name do you mean Tanya was only there by coincidence?! May I remind you that over 3,000 soldiers lost their lives on both sides of this coup?!”

Victor winced.

“Be that as it may, brother, there’s no evidence. This Major’s admitted to multiple crimes that put him and his group in a very negative light. To be frank, the griffon’s a moron. If Tanya had been involved with anything in that meeting, he’d spill like a broken sieve. Is it possible that Tanya knew about our hidden tail and purposefully revealed herself to incite a reaction?”

Heinrich scoffed.

“That’s even more ridiculous than her being innocent. While I can admit that she’s a gifted little chick, she is still a chick even if she’s backed by some organization that taught her these skills. If not even Suntail could figure out our plan, there’s no way somegriff like her could.”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment before he continued.

“No… but it’s possible that she figured something out. Her connections with the L-NRP and their ties with Skyvania might’ve given her some insight into our operations… maybe being involved with them and the GNRF helped put the pieces together? There’s a conspiracy here and we’re not going to get to the bottom of it with speculation. We need Tanya behind bars and all of her political capacity ruined before she can cause us any more problems.”

Victor thought for a moment, thinking through the legalities.

“In that case, I’ll need your support. Here’s my plan…” 





July 15th, 1003 – City Hall, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Nicholas POV

Nicholas Egscher was frustrated by recent developments.

As mayor of the city of Cloudbury, he had overseen a lot of change, both positive and negative. The city did not have a mayor before the Republic’s annexation, instead it was ruled by a Baron appointed by the former Duke of Cloudbury. As such, the office was still in its infancy which meant a number of adjustments were needed by both the citizens and its administration. For the first 10 years, the mayoral title changed claws every term. He was the first one to last into a second. In that time, the city had ballooned in size from refugees yet had also industrialized into a modern juggernaut. It had grown destitute and rich, powerful and divided.

That was the sort of city he had found himself governing. Unlike the more passive mayors of the past, he was focused exclusively on the Cloudbury 10, 20, 50 years in the future. Working together with the R-NRP, he relaxed regulation for industry and finance; using new taxes to invest in long-term infrastructure projects. He had expanded the harbor district, shored-up the waterway for use by larger ships, paved over the roads for easier use by truck and even oversaw the creation of the first public transit system in the country which allowed workers living in the fringes of the city to make it to their workplaces.

However, things had changed with the rise of the L-NRP during his latest term. Strikes had become commonplace, unions had formed, and stability had crumbled. Despite the instability, the President had done nothing to address the situation, and so Nicholas had been forced to pass sweeping legislation against them, banning their co-ops and councils from taking place. The L-NRP still found loopholes and ways to get around the laws, but their time would come.

However, this was not what frustrated him most. No, he was most annoyed by the cigar-chomping leader of the R-NRP – Heinrich Kingfeather – blowing foul-smelling smoke throughout his office. The mayor not only refused to smoke, but was a self-described “health-nut”. He was a rare griffon that ate only the tiniest amount of meat to survive and stayed away from all vices including tobacco and alcohol. He had experienced a gout attack that had him screaming in pain one morning. Until then, he had been a hedonist and a glutton, but he had taken the illness as a sign from Boreas to change his life around.

Ignorant – or perhaps indifferent – to the mayor’s feelings on the matter, Heinrich blew out another ring of smoke as he finished discussing his policy.

“… and so that would result in lower taxes for the most productive factories and banks while still providing the funding needed for your projects. Anyway, enough of that, perhaps we can discuss another small matter I need a little help with.”

Nicholas stood by his window in a vain attempt to avoid the smoke. Taking a brief breath of fresh air, he reminded himself that Heinrich was his valued benefactor. They shared almost identical views of the future of the nation and wanted the same things. That said, he also knew that when Heinrich came to him personally, it was never something small.

“Heinrich, please, we’re good friends! Tell me all about your problem.”

Responding with a smile of his own, Heinrich continued.

“I’m glad we still see things eye-to-eye. The issue is with Tanya; the flag-waving chick. As I’m sure you’re aware, she’s become something of a popular icon for the socialists.”

Nicholas nodded along.

“Of course, I can imagine that she’s been a bit of trouble… a bit. While the socialists are polling higher than ever, so has the R-NRP. You have a plurality – if not a majority – of the support… assuming the polls are accurate and elections were resumed. Why poke the hornets' nest now?”

That had been his long-standing unofficial policy: push hard for anti-socialist legislation, use the media to condemn their riots and failures, but leave their members alone. It was the unfortunate truth that socialists were as good on the “defense” as they were bad on the “attack”. People were quick to hate them for their violence, but the moment even a single one of their members were arrested, they were “martyred” by the rest. Unless there was hard-evidence for some sort of heinous crime, putting them in prison always backfired.

Heinrich hesitated for a moment before responding.

“I suppose it’s fine to tell you. The truth is, Tanya had been working with the GNRF to take control of Cloudbury. Her recent spikes of popularity were almost certainly a plan to focus popular support on her to act as a figurehead for their radical version of the Citizens’ Militia.”

Nicholas was shocked.

“I- I see… in that case I suppose steps should be taken.”

He thought through what had been said for a moment before frowning.

“That being said. I notice something absent there. If you have this evidence, why not bring her in? There are a dozen trials going on right now exactly like that. Why have me- Ah… you plan to use the lower courts to try her. What’s the reason? Too politically volatile? Not enough evidence?”

There were two tiers of courts in the Republic. The National Court was convened for heinous political crimes or murders. They might also take on other cases if the circumstances were unique enough that it could change the law. In all other cases, the City Court was used. It was a new and radically improved system of justice over the old Imperial system, but still had loopholes.

One such “loophole” was that the mayor of a city could select the judge to try a specific case before the City Court. Such a law had been put in place because city judges – like many important political positions in the Republic – were elected. It had been quickly discovered that judges would use court cases as part of their campaign for re-election or to promote a certain cause rather than passing appropriate judgments. The fix, however, soon became a new problem; a power used by mayors to influence the decision of certain “politically important” cases. It was a well-known “trick” by now and so Nicholas rarely used it, and never to get somegriff out of a crime. While the socialists might call him a greedy capitalist – and he did not disagree – he was no crook.

Heinrich took his accusation in stride.

“We do have proof of Tanya’s associations with organized crime and the GNRF. We can provide evidence and even develop… creative new ways of gathering more, but this can’t go through the National Court. Rikard Astler leaning on the President to handle the case would bring too much scrutiny; a favorable verdict would be unlikely. Of course, I plan to reimburse you proportionally for your work here. I understand that the elections are coming up and Tanya’s arrest will cause issues. I just want to remove a potential risk for a year or so. By next election, this whole thing will blow over. Doing this, I can focus all my attentions on the C-NRP and maintaining the Party’s popularity.”

The 1003 mayoral elections for Cloudbury were at the end of October, so any “proportional reimbursement” now would help a lot in ensuring his re-election. Nicholas sighed. It was not as though he had much of a choice. To deny his primary benefactor would only cause problems, and it was not as though he would cry himself to sleep over the incarceration of a socialist.

“I expect this to be worth it.”





August 4th, 1003 – Tanya Co-Op, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Tanya POV

‘This was completely worth it. Ah… it’s good to finally be free of the damn socialists.’

It had been a long time coming. The recent failed coup had been a mild setback, but the primary cause of the delays had been that “sham capitalist” Ernst Thällgriff who had sidelined her for months in the factory project. Despite the fact she could have been paid far more to take on an active role, Ernst had forced her to do nothing while he reaped in the benefits. The only saving grace from that time was that she could save the measly pay she received and take the large amount of the “free time” to read. That research meant she felt herself capable enough in teaching and theory to begin applying it to her new business.

The purpose of Tanya’s business? A Griffon Resources Consulting Firm.

‘It only makes sense to start a business doing what I know best. It’s something that this world has little concept of, but it’s something that’s invaluable to the efficiency and retention of employees. More importantly, it is something that is sorely missing in the workplaces of the Republic.’

Her negotiation work between the socialists and the factories proved that. While capitalism was no doubt destined to be the leading force of progress for the future of this world as it had been in her former one, it was lacking. Factories had clear priorities, targets and goals, but they were surprisingly behind in making effective use of their employee resources. There were regular strikes, discontent and inefficiency. Basic requests like improved safety standards, more efficient work schedules, or better tools were denied on the basis of cost regardless of their potential benefit.

But where there existed problems, there also existed a business niche to solve them. Like any effective HR firm from her former world, her business would: research the best benefits package for different tiers of employee competency, ensure compliance with regulations, raise awareness with management about potential causes of worker disruption, help with worker relations, handle public relations and recruit new employees.

It was a system that could work for any workplace: for capitalists it would ensure employee retention and avoid downtime from strikes or unions; for socialists, it created a “judicial branch” for their so-called “democratic workplaces” that kept them accountable. While she did not think the way socialists ran things would work in the long run, she was not going to deny her services to them; especially not when they had helped support her co-op.

Said “business” was still in development, however, and had been for the past 2 months. At the moment, it consisted of a tiny two-story townhouse she rented in the heart of the slums. It had 4 bunk-beds, a tiny kitchenette and bathroom on the upper floor, and a larger office/living space on the main floor. It was her workspace as well as her home. She certainly did not have the money for two apartments.

It was also the home of her 15 employees – aged 12 to 14 – who sat on the wooden floor with notebooks in their forelegs, listening to her teach.

“… and so your primary focus will be on engaging regularly with the workers. Once you can compile notes on the goals of the owners and the workers, you will be able to clearly see where the wedge issues are. Just like in politics, that’s where you will need to focus your efforts.”

One of the teenagers raised a claw.

“Miss Tanya, what’s a “wedge issue”?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Here, let me explain…”

In hindsight, it was obvious. The “cheapest workers that could read and write who were also doggedly loyal” could only be orphans like herself. So long as they received good food and a roof over their heads, they would do anything for her. It was even better since – until she started operating her business – she was technically an orphanage and received a small bit of funding from that. Combined with the support of the socialists from technically being a co-operative workplace, and it was something akin to a capital-investment seed-loan from a bank.

Tanya was confused why others did not do something similar. Perhaps it was her unique situation that she could take advantage of the system for her own gain. Of course, it was not that she was performing some sort of “Con”. She was an orphanage at the moment, providing life skills to the orphans. She would be a co-op once she opened for business, one with an immutable "constitution" that only allowed the most competent to be elected as head. If that was not herself, she was fine with that. She had principles. She would never sign a contract without considering the benefit of all parties. It was for that reason she had turned down Red’s request for investment: she could only accept that sort of deal when she was confident she could make a reasonable return on investment.

She continued her lesson.

“… but be warned, pushing for resolutions to issues will cause employees to question you. To avoid this, reinforce your authority with implied punishment. Remind them that finding solutions is their job and yours is only to highlight the problems and failing to do their job can result in their removal from the company. For the owner, imply that strikes, delays or even legal action may result from them failing to address the issues. Remember, do whatever you can do legally to find a solution, otherwise, the sky’s the limit!”

Several claws were raised at once.

“Miss Tanya, what does “resolution” mean?”
“I don’t know what you mean by “the sky’s the limit”. We have wings… the sky’s always the limit.”
“I need to go to the bathroom.”

Tanya groaned.

“Are you sure you want a bathroom break now? You only have 2 left for today.”

The griffon teen paled and lowered her claw.

“… I can hold it for a little longer.”

Tanya smiled. She was glad she had some measure of authority over the children, despite being physically younger than them. She had raised concerns to Red that her age might be a problem, but he had insisted otherwise.

“It won’t be a problem so long as you set clear rules. Just send them to me if it's an issue, I’ll… straighten them out.”

Red had been right; they were all very obedient. Tanya could only envy Red's skill for instilling discipline and selecting ideal candidates. Red would have been great in HR herself.

Another one of her student-employees raised their claw.

“Miss Tanya… I’d always been told that threatening people was bad.”

Tanya sighed. She was not stupid. She knew that her personal views of the world – of seeing others as only resources or for the value they provide – were not normal, but the Republic was not a kind place to "normal" people. She had to prepare these chicks in the best way she knew how if they were to stay off the street.

“In your everyday life that’s sometimes correct, but the employees or owner you’re managing aren’t your friends. You can play games or have fun with others, but never them. You’re supposed to guide them; to put the needs of the business beyond their petty wants and desires. Let me explain…”

It had been frustrating to have to explain HR from first principles, but she figured it was better in the long run. She knew many mediocre HR coworkers from her former life that had no understanding of the basic concepts and had “coasted” through their career on their charisma alone. They tried to “empathize” with employees’ individual plights and utterly failed to grasp the bigger picture. They seemed to completely miss the very concept of Human Resources. It was in the name.

Thankfully, this world had plenty of historical literature that understood reality. She even managed to get her hands on “The Compiled History of the Pomovarra Dynasty” written by somegriff named Nicolas de Charbon, a politician from Flowena. It held many similarities to Machiavelli’s works and she used it regularly as a teaching aide. While much sociological development had occurred since those primitive times, quantifying and managing sapient beings was universal and the books provided a solid foundation to build from.

“… so as you can see, by trying too hard to be loved rather than respected, Prince Philippe de Charbon of Pomovarra failed as a leader and his dynasty ended. The King of Aquileia was forced to step in and abolish his title. In this way, you need to keep work and personal lives separate. It’s fine playing and having fun, but at work, you need to take your job seriously and treat employees properly.”

A claw was raised.

“Just like how you threaten to tell on us to Red?”

She smiled.

“Exactly. Fear of punishment creates respect. While you are my students, you cannot be my friends. Think of what it would mean if I was. You might believe I liked some of you more than others; some might try to gain my friendship in exchange for getting out of work. Those sorts of things ruin your ability to do your job, and what does failing to do your job mean?”

““Being fired and thrown back on the streets.””

She nodded. She was starting to get the hang of this whole “teaching” thing. So long as she kept reinforcing the rewards and punishments, the lessons seemed to sink in easily. That was something most books on teaching taught her.

“Good, now we will continue where we left off. While it’s important to be feared, you must still try to form a positive relationship. Really stress to your employees that you work for them and that you’re their ally in making the workplace better. While this isn’t always true, it is in the best interests of everygriff to maintain the polite fiction in order to-”

*BANG* *BANG* *BANG*

There was a pounding on the door.

Her employee-students scattered behind whatever furniture was available. Tanya went to one corner where she took hold of a rifle the socialists had given her during the coup and she had kept for herself. While the slums were usually quite safe, that was partially reinforced with the threat of violence. While it was almost unheard of to be murdered, there was still petty theft. Her small townhouse was just on the border of “not dirt poor” where it was possible she might be targeted by desperate vagrants. Waving a rifle in their direction was usually enough to warn them off.

She called out to whoever was beyond the door.

“Who is it?”

A gruff voice responded.

“It’s the police! Now open the damn door or we’ll break it!”

Once Tanya confirmed their story by checking through a crack in the door, she breathed a sigh of relief. While the rifle was deadly, it was feasible that two or more adult griffons could still overpower her. She set the weapon aside and opened the door.

“Good afternoon, how may I help you gentlegriffs today?”

In the doorway were two griffon soldiers. One was a lieutenant and the other a sergeant. They both had armbands emblazoned with the simple logo of the Military Police. Their faces had looks of confusion. The sergeant spoke up.

“Uh, good afternoon little miss. We’re here to serve a warrant. Is your caretaker around?”

Now it was Tanya that was confused, but she quickly realized the source of confusion.

“Ah! Sorry, but this is an orphanage run by myself. Don’t worry, I’m abiding by all regulations and the paperwork has been filed. I hope this isn’t the neighbors making a complaint again. There’s no rules stating that an orphanage can’t be run by an orphan so long as I can prove the necessary financial liquidity.”

The lieutenant was the first to reply.

“That’s… not what we’re here for. We’ve a warrant for the arrest of somegriff named “Tanya” that lives at this residence.”

She sighed.

“That would be me.”

It was an unfortunately routine occurrence for people living in the slums to be arrested for all kinds of reasons. It was just the fact of being in an area of high crime: sometimes mistakes were made and a crime was blamed on the wrong person. While it had never personally happened to her yet, she knew of several employees of Red who had been charged with assault or worse despite doing nothing worse than kicking out rowdy casino patrons.

She turned to her employee-students with a sigh.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to end classes early. Be sure to stick closely to my schedule. I’ll have somegriff keep your curriculum up-to-date. Don’t make me have to talk to Red.”

They all nodded their heads aggressively.

She turned to the guards with her claws outstretched.

“Well, do you need to tie up my forelimbs?”

The two guards looked to each other with a grimace. They whispered to each other low enough that she could not hear any of it.

“Is this a joke? What the hell is-”
“Orders are orders, we need to-”
“I know how to do my job damn it, but this… what next, stealing food from beggars? Beating up crippled chicks?”
“You saw the warrant, she’s a dangerous-”
“Dangerous?! By Eyr she’s barely up to my chest! She runs an orphanage!”

The lieutenant shook his head.

“Ah… you are Tanya? We had expected somegriff… different. We won’t tie you up so please just… come with us.”

As they walked to a carriage, she could not help but frown.

‘I hope this isn’t anything serious.’
> 10 - Rewriting Common Sense
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Controversial Trial of Radical Sparks Protests at Cloudbury Courthouse

While much of the focus over the last few months has been on the National Courthouse, a development in the Cloudbury City Courthouse has been turning heads. The Citizen Militia bannergriff – Tanya of the L-NRP – has been arrested for alleged connections to organized crime and criminal conspiracy relating to the June insurrection. In light of these damning charges, the courthouse has been party to rabid protesters claiming their local “hero” to be innocent of the charges brought forth by the Republic’s police.

Only time will tell if this so-called “patriot” is a popular hero, or a popular fraud.

- Article on page 6 of the Griffonian Republic National Newspaper, Der Republifaner (1st Week of August 1003 Edition)





August 15th, 1003 – City Courthouse, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Tanya POV

The Cloudbury City Courthouse was a building that had been the estate of one of the former Duke’s many cousins and its reconstruction could not hide the trappings of that aristocratic heritage. The stone facade had black, rectangular rust-marks where bronze plaques once extolled the historical virtues of some ancient achievement or another. Those now-forgotten stories had been replaced with modern ones which often had newspaper reporters and crowds flocking to see the latest criminal gossip first-claw.

“Can you comment on the Court’s accusations?!”
“What is your relationship with organized crime?!”
“Have you been harmed?! Are you alright?!”

Camera flashes and journalists shouting questions; it was a common sight on the steps of the courthouse. Different than most crowds, however, the roughly one-hundred griffons were mostly from the slums. They were L-NRP supporters and Tanya’s acquaintances who had come out to support her. She might have been touched… if the gesture meant anything. As it stood, they were no better than gawking bystanders.

‘This… isn’t quite how I imagined I would be spending my 12th birthday.’

As was common for most orphans, their “real” birthdays were unknown. After all, most were dropped off illegally and without the proper paperwork to save their impoverished biological parents some money. Tanya’s parents had been no different. She did not remember it; at that age, her personality had yet to coalesce into her new body. As such, her birthday marked the 11th anniversary of her arrival at the orphanage, with an extra year added on to bring the date closer to her “real” age. That being the case, Tanya was still glad her childhood turned out that way. While the orphanage was not great, it was better than the alternative: being neglected by unemployed vagrants.

Tanya looked up at the clock mounted in a tower above the courthouse and stopped. She tugged at the pant-leg of one of her escorts. It was the same Lieutenant that had taken her into custody just under two weeks prior.

“It looks like we’re still half-an-hour early. Hold on for a minute, I want to speak to the press.”

The Lieutenant frowned.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I wouldn’t want you to make a mistake right before the end of your trial.”

Her escort had been amusingly polite over the past week. It was probably a ploy by the judiciary to get her to leak incriminating information that would hurt her case. It had also meant her time in the Remand Center pending the result of her trial had been… surprisingly pleasant. She had quality food and was allowed regular visits from the L-NRP or her lawyer, which greatly helped in getting her affairs in order.

Tanya gave him a wry smile.

“I’ll be fine.”

That being said, the Lieutenant would normally be right. As the saying went, “anything could be used against you in a court of law”, and the media had fewer scruples than most. Still, this was the day of closing remarks and the verdict. It would be too late for the prosecution to use anything she said against her now. Not only that, but for whatever reason, judges were elected in the Republic. The best chance she had for exoneration would be a public opinion coup. If the media made her imprisonment problematic enough, the judge might reconsider. She would normally be above using such underhanded methods, but her trust in the courts had been thoroughly undermined over the course of the trial. It was like they were out to get her regardless of her innocence! Perhaps the judge wanted to look tough-on-crime for his re-election and “socialists” like herself were the perfect fodder.

Tanya turned to the journalists, waving a claw in their direction.

“Hello everygriff! I’ll answer your questions one-at-a-time, please!”

She pointed to one of them.

“You, with the red-banded trilby.”

The female griffon straightened up, grabbing a pen and notepad from her shirt and pushing her way to the front.

“Der Republifaner, national news. The police are out to prove you guilty of criminal conspiracy. What’s your relationship with organized crime?”

Tanya let out a sigh of relief.

‘Good, a soft-ball question. I can only hope that means the Republic’s national paper is on my side!’

She smiled.

“No one I know is guilty of any crimes, as far as I’m aware. I can only wait and see with the rest of you if the prosecution’s allegations have actual merit.”

It was a stock answer to a stock question. Tanya could see that the reporter was frustrated with the response, but that was understandable. The reporter had no doubt hoped Tanya would give some new insight into the case as a “reward” for the easy question, but Tanya could not afford to take any chances.

Writing something down into the notepad, the Der Republifaner reporter flipped to a new page.

“I have it on good authority that the criminal kingpin known as “Red” is a known associate of yours. Do you have any comments on your relationship with her specifically?”

‘I see what she’s doing… By making outlandish accusations up-front, it undermines questions that the genuinely adversarial press might bring up. Once Red’s been called a “kingpin”, a “casino owner” seems positively tame in comparison. Really… Der Republifaner hires quality talent.’

Tanya chuckled.

“I don’t know anything about “criminal kingpin” but everygriff in the slum knows about Red. I used to do a few odd jobs for all the employers in the slum, including Red. Honestly, if she’s such a dangerous criminal, I don’t know why I’ve been arrested instead of her.”

She did not have to pretend to show her confusion about that. While she would hardly call Red a real criminal, at least she ran an illegal casino. Compared to that, Tanya’s association with her or with the GNRF’s officers was laughable. What had she done to earn her arrest? She was a nobody; just a 12-year-old struggling to open a business.

The reporter continued her inquiries.

“In that case, I have another question-”

Before they could finish, however, another reporter had cut her off. The new speaker was a male griffon who wore a flat cap and suspenders over a simple white shirt and black pants.

“I think you’ve had enough questions! You’re badgering the poor chick!”

Both the Der Republifaner reporter and Tanya were frustrated by the interjection, but she could admit that just answering “easy questions” from a single newspaper would hardly get the press coverage she wanted.

The new reporter continued.

“Den Uafhængige, Cloudbury news. How have you been treated? Have you been assaulted by anygriff since your arrest? You can tell us.”

Tanya frowned, knowing a trick question when she heard it. Den Uafhængige had pro-monarchist leanings and the last thing she wanted was to give the publication any ammunition. At least the Republic’s government was still somewhat accountable to the people. She could simply answer truthfully… but they might twist her words to imply that they were said under duress.

Rather than fall for the bait, she turned to her Lieutenant escort.

”Well, have you hurt me in any way?”

The Lieutenant was shocked.

”Of course not! I wouldn’t dare to harm Tanya! She’s been nothing but cooperative during this entire investigation!”

Tanya chuckled and turned back to the press, making to play the whole line-of-questioning off as a joke.

”See? I wouldn’t say my arrest has been pleasant, but assault? I’ve had regular visits from the L-NRP and my lawyer. The soldiers would have to be utter morons to try anything.”

The reporter appeared embarrassed as the Der Republifaner reporter chuckled, again proving she was on Tanya’s side.

A new reporter pushed their way to the forefront of the crowd.

”Socialistisk Presse, national news. Can you explain the current state of the orphanage you manage now that you’ve been arrested? Are your orphans okay?”

Gasps and sounds of shock rang out in the crowd. Tanya could not stop her face from cringing in frustration. She had been this close to avoiding any mention about her Co-Op.

’Damn it! Go figure that the socialists would barge into the worst possible question! If they start looking too deeply into what the orphans are doing, they’ll see the truth; that it’s a cheap workforce I’m exploiting!’

While it was a necessity considering her poor financial situation, it was not something she wanted out in the open. She knew from experience that the public never took the time to appreciate the nuance of a situation.

”Well… things are going well for the orphans. I’ve had somegriff giving them plenty of homework to keep them occupied. Really, I don’t want to get them involved in any of this, so perhaps we can just move on and-”

”What’s going on here?!”

Tanya was relieved to be cut off by the sound of her ”lawyer” rushing towards her from the far edge of the crowd.

Tobias Sivenhof was known to be a famous senator for the state of Døendejord south of Cloudbury, he was well respected as being impartial and having a strong sense of political propriety. He was not a lawyer; something the judge and prosecution had reminded her repeatedly during the trial. Tanya had been desperate to find somegriff else, but none were willing to take on her case. While he had a far better understanding of the law than herself, she also felt he was utterly incapable of keeping her out of prison.

Tanya glanced at the clock on the facade of the courthouse and pretended to wince. She still had plenty of time to talk to the press, but the conversation was no longer going in a direction she wanted.

”Ah, I hadn’t noticed the time. I apologize if I’ve held things up.”

Tobias frowned.

“That isn’t what I- No, I suppose you’re right. Let’s not waste any more time. This farce should end sooner rather than later.”





August 15th, 1003 – City Courtroom #1, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Tobias POV

Tobias Sivenhof was one of the few genuine Centrists in the Republic.

He had seen the good and bad of all the major political systems and had no strong opinions about any of them. There were socialists that pushed for workers’ rights and those that just wanted brutal vengeance. There were capitalists that wanted to advance the boundaries of industry and science, and those that just wanted to line their own pockets. There were monarchists who oversaw the establishment of an educated and disciplined leadership, and those that just wanted to rule without merit. While he respected the citizens of Cloudbury for their political opinions and wished them all the best in competing for the victory of their chosen “team”, it was not a game he wanted to play.

Instead, he took his job as a Civil Servant very seriously. In Tobias’ opinion, the best way to improve the country was through its institutions: by making them robust enough to weather populist changes while vetting the positions within for incompetents and malicious actors. He had spent the last 20 years balancing the powers of the executive, legislative and judicial branches of the national government. He had spent the last 12 years pushing more responsibility and accountability on an educated class of bureaucrats to run things behind the scenes. He had spent the last 5 years improving the standards of education and the regulations surrounding industry and agriculture. He did all this to create a strong backbone so that – regardless of whatever political system the people would build on top of it – Cloudbury would reap the success it rightfully deserved after so many years of hardship.

It was for this reason he was chosen to represent Tanya during the trial. Rikard had pleaded with Schnabel Sunglider – head of the C-NRP – to help in her defense, but there was nothing he could legally do about it. There was no hard evidence of any wrongdoing by the R-NRP or the mayor. Instead, Tobias had volunteered to investigate things. He was no lawyer, but having founded the judiciary, he had taken it as a personal slight that the institution and its proceedings would be anything but unbiased and politically neutral.

“Court is now in session for the verdict of Tanya of Cloudbury.”

Now that he was witnessing the current situation, he could only wince at his failure. There were no secondary judges, no jury of peers, nogriff in the courtroom at all save for the prosecution, the bailiff and a single stenographer. Tobias had known the situation of the City Courts was bad – he had spent some time over the past 20 years working to fix it – but the issues kept being pushed back. There had always been higher priorities; there was never enough funding; there were not enough judges or lawyers to take on the burden.

All those explanations just felt like excuses to him now.

Judge Hoffgriff alone sat on-high, peering down at the tiny chick before him like Boreas judging a particularly odious soul. It made Tobias sick; despite all his work in trying to build up and hone the institutions of the Republic, a court case was taking place with no oversight. As far as the Cloudbury Bar was concerned, the Judge was accountable only to himself. Once over, the case could not be appealed without direct authorization of the Mayor or the President. With the current situation in the Republic, Tobias knew better than to believe Kemerskai would get himself involved in yet another political scandal.

‘It’s unbelievable! There’s nothing I can do to stop this. Of course, I’ll be quick to bring word of this to Sunglider and work hard to patch up the legal loopholes, reprimand and review the judiciary, and create new legislation to prevent something like this happening again… but that will take months or even years to complete.’

In the meantime, Judge Hoffgriff turned to the Prosecution.

“Prosecution, if you could give your closing remarks so we can get this nonsense over with?”

The Prosecution – a particularly smug griffon named Reinhard Schultz – nodded with a smile.

“We’ve had witnesses prove that Tanya is a socialist, an extremist and a terrorist. We’ve had evidence – hard evidence – of her collaboration with the L-NRP and GNRF to destabilize and weaken the Republic in plots to overthrow the government. I could go on and on… but what would be the point? I can only lament that this case was brought up in the City Court instead of the National one, and so I cannot push for the death penalty. I can only hope that justice is served in the harshest and most severe way; that Tanya and her ilk can be put away long enough that their twisted ideology and methods can no longer cause further harm to the institutions of the Republic any more!”

Hoffgriff nodded approvingly before turning to Tobias with a frown.

“Now defense, if you would-”

Tobias refused to let him finish and slammed his desk hard.

“We’ve heard from anti-socialist mouthpieces ramble about “the corrupting nature of socialism”, my repeated and reasonable requests for character witnesses have been denied. None of the witness testimony or evidence were entered using the correct methods and were almost certainly tampered with, if not outright made up. The only solid piece of evidence connecting Tanya to any of the conspiracies purported in this court is her friendly nature with Red; a business owner in the slums without a criminal record and their meeting with the GNRF who – based on actual evidence – have repeatedly stated Tanya had done nothing to further their cause! That after all of this, you would want this innocent 12-year-old killed is so reprehensible I don't have words. I can only assuage my anger with this blatant miscarriage of justice with the fact that as a Senator, I have some measure of political ability to see that real justice is carried out-”

Hoffgriff slammed his gavel.

“You’re out of line! Mentioning politics outside the scope of this case is-”

Tobias pointed at the griffon and had to bite back a snarl.

“Out of line?! I hope whatever bribe or favors you received from this were worth it, Judge Hoffgriff! Your antics here have stained the honor of the Cloudbury judiciary and you’ve made an enemy of me. When I’m through-”

The Judge slammed his gavel again.

“Contempt of Court! I’ve found your conduct in this trial wholly at odds with your reputation. Well, do you want real justice so bad?! Have it! I find Tanya guilty of all charges! Tanya is to be removed from remand detention and sent to prison for no less than 5 years! Balliff, take these two out of my sight!”

Glancing nervously outside the window to the crowd of protesters, the Judge and Prosecution quickly fled out the side door.

The frustrated bailiff walked up towards Tobias and Tanya.

“Mr. Sivenhof, sir, I… I’m not sure what-”

Collecting himself for a moment, Tobias cut off the bailiff with a shake of his head.

“Don’t. Just… give me a few minutes to talk to my client.”

Seemingly relieved that he did not have to make any difficult decisions, the bailiff walked back to the far end of the room. Tobias felt his rage cool off when he turned to Tanya. Instead, he felt tears welling in his eyes and he crouched to get a better look at the chick.

“Tanya… I’m sorry it had to come to this. This – none of this – is something you should be bearing. These are the Republic’s sins. This whole situation should’ve never happened. I could go on about how the Republic’s institutions have been waning over the years but-”

Tanya chuckled, but he could tell it was filled with nervousness.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about. While obviously your talent as a lawyer leaves much to be desired – if that last outburst is any indication – I’ve spent my whole life dealing with one disaster after another. Since my employer knows I’m innocent, I suppose I can consider this… unpaid leave. You did promise to get me out of prison, right? You, Sunglider and the socialists?”

Tobias nodded gravely.

“If it’s the last thing I do.”

Tanya gave him a sad smile in return.

“Then it’s fine. I’ll still have a job after all this is over and I can leave it out on my resume. Looking on the bright side, making a few allies in the C-NRP has made some of this nonsense worth it. Besides, there is one thing I can finally get done with so much newfound free time.”

Tobias tilted his head in interest.

“What are you thinking?”

Tanya looked distracted, and was toying with her hair absentmindedly.

“The one thing any so-called “political prisoner” can do. I’m going to write a book.”





August 18th, 1003 – Left-NRP Headquarters, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Rikard POV

The mood was gloomy as Tobias Sivenhof, Clara Löwenkin and Ernst Thällgriff crowded into Rikard Astler’s office. Tobias finished his summary of the events at the courthouse, but did not make any excuses. It was clear that the griffon was almost as distraught as the rest of them regarding the verdict.

“…and that was that. I’ll admit I was somewhat more emotional than normal… perhaps I’d denied my political instincts for too long. All I can say is that I’m sorry… for whatever it’s worth.”

Of course, for the L-NRP, such verdicts were par-for-the-course. Everygriff knew of socialists that “pushed too far” in politics and were sent to prison on trumped-up charges. Rikard was the only socialist in the room that had kept himself out of prison; thanks mostly to his lack of direct involvement with any protests or strikes.

Clara – who had been in prison almost as long as she had been out of one – was fuming.

“If legal means have failed, we just have to go on the offensive! I know at least a thousand griffons who are itching for a little retribution against that so-called “court of justice”. We’ve had dozens of our people put behind bars with bullshit excuses, but it’s never been so blatant until now! Nogriff believes that Tanya is guilty of anything. If the judges and the lawyers are so adamant at throwing away the rights of the people, the people should remind them of their job!”

Tobias shook his head.

“Be reasonable, please! I’ll admit I want to do nothing more than knock heads, but that won’t solve anything! You would be undercutting any moral high-ground we have while muddying the issue. People on the fence about this won’t see freedom fighters seeking to enact justice, they’ll see bandits striking at the government while the army’s distracted in the north.”

Clara looked like she was going to give an angry retort, but she was cut off when Ernst grabbed her forelimb. Ever since the verdict, the Head of Propaganda had been a shell of his former self. Rikard could imagine what the griffon must have felt; Tanya was like a daughter to them all.

“I… I just returned from the prison. I have a contact within the prison guards and they’ve all promised to keep an eye on Tanya. I spoke to her and she’s… okay. She’ll survive. She told me that compared to her time in the slums, this is a… vacation for her.”

Clara turned to him.

“You can’t be serious! She’s-”

Clara stopped as soon as she got a look at Ernst. He looked halfway between being ready to cry or smash something. He clenched a claw hard as he turned to her.

“Tobias is right. We know the truth; we know the judiciary was rigged by the mayor who’s bought-and-paid-for by the R-NRP, but we don’t know why they’re so focused on Tanya. That confusion works in their favor. Everygriff will just see two political camps arguing with circumstantial evidence on both sides. We’ll fight, of course we will… but so long as the R-NRP control the national government and Mayor Nicholas controls Cloudbury… there’s nothing we can do.”

Rikard clapped his claws together.

“Alright, alright, I think that’s a perfect reminder to step back and focus on what we’re actually here for. Nicholas can’t continue being mayor and as a Councilgriff of Cloudbury, I’m already poised to replace him. As mayor, I’ll have the authority to call for retrials with proper oversight and legal procedure. Tanya can be set free by the end of the year.”

It had always been Rikard’s plan to become mayor. As one of the few elected positions with real power left – with the national elections put on hold – it was a chance to bring the L-NRP to the forefront of political discourse. He was confident that with that power, he could rebuild Cloudbury into a successful socialist project and prove to the rest of the country that socialism was the only path forward. Of course, that had been something he had planned to do in the future. The L-NRP still only had around 20% support in Cloudbury and that was mostly towards the party rather than himself. He could not let this situation continue, however. He had to try… but it would not be easy.

Clara turned to Tobias.

“The question remains if “Mr. Centrist” over here is willing to put his reputation on the line to free Tanya or not. With the way things are going, it might be possible to get Rikard elected in a fair fight, but we all know that won’t happen. Mayor Nicholas has been running a 24 hour slander campaigns against us, posters are on every street-corner and being the incumbent mayor has its own advantages. There’s a reason he’s been re-elected again and again.”

Tobias sighed.

“I realize now that I’ve let this continue for far too long. I have to take risks if I want to see lasting reform. That being said, I can’t be the only person making compromises here. I’m not here to prop up a Democratic Socialist as mayor. That’s not just my personal opinion either. Whether I wanted it or not, my supporters will think I’ve drifted too far from the center and drop their support. That means your electoral platform will need to change. No abolition of private property, no tax-breaks for co-ops or heavy-taxation of corporations. I could go on, but I imagine you get the picture.”

Rikard nodded.

“Agreed.”

Clara turned to Rikard in shock.

“Sir! You can’t seriously be considering that! You’ll look like your betraying the cause! What will the workers think?!”

Rikard shook his head and turned to Ernst.

“That won’t be a problem, will it?”

Ernst reluctantly shook his head in return.

“No… we can come out looking fine to our supporters if we spin it right. If we can’t push for anything ostensibly socialist, we can still campaign for worker protections, charity and repealing Nicholas’ anti-socialist policies. While I’m sure some L-NRP supporters will be disappointed, as Head of Propaganda, you can leave it to me to handle that.”

Rikard nodded and turned to Tobias.

“This isn’t just about Socialism anymore, this is about preserving a Republic worth fighting for. But once this is all settled, expect that I’ll be pushing hard for socialist policies next election.”

Tobias rolled his eyes.

“You haven’t won yet. If fixing the Republic was so easy, I would’ve done it at some point over the last 20 years. Anyway, we need to focus on our policies. Here’s what I think…”

They continued talking like that, but Rikard could not help becoming distracted. This might save Tanya, but in doing so, he was compromising on his own ideals. His mind went back to his last meeting with Moe Sparrowsbane.

‘Skyvania and Moe won’t be satisfied with a nation with such a wishy-washy implementation of socialism… nor would I. It’s like Moe had said, I’m letting myself get taken in by the “easy path”. Like the President, I’m just pushing the hard choices down the road and pretending like doing so is some noble sacrifice. No, I’m just being indecisive and weak. The nation will never heal so long as the capitalists maintain control of the means of production and corporations are free to exploit the workers. It’ll turn this nation into nothing more than another aristocracy, just with corporate leaders rather than noble ones. It would be like the revolution was for nothing.’

Rikard would play along with the Harmonists for now, but for how long? Skynavia and Moe’s army would come knocking on the Republic’s door for revolution in the coming years. He could not afford to leave the nation unprepared.

If that meant he needed to betray this new partnership to gain power for the socialist cause? Then so be it.





September 23rd, 1003 – Powder Bridge Prison, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Tanya POV

Powder Bridge Prison got its name for two reasons: the bridge next door which forded the Cloudbury river at the southern edge of the city, and the prison’s former purpose. 200 years ago, the structure that would become the prison was built to be a gunpowder magazine. With two-meter-thick walls, a moat for protection and large interior spaces, it could house tons of gunpowder with little risk to the nearby city. However, with the age of the cannon and musket at an end, its transition to a prison was common-sense.

Unlike most prisons in the country, Powder Bridge had been used as one long before the Republic took over. Duke Plumenjar even held Republican prisoners there, which led to damage to the prison during a daring rescue in 980. Considering its history, many wanted the prison destroyed, but the cost of removing such a solid structure was expensive and there were few prisons in the country with conditions better than the squalor of a medieval dungeon. With its security, it became the ideal place to detain political prisoners that were at a high risk of escape.

For Tanya, the past few weeks had been surprisingly mundane. She knew – based on popular media and her former life’s upbringing – that prison was to be avoided at all cost. Prisons were filled with the aberrant and insane – the worst of society – and just a short stay would leave her reputation in ruins. In this prison – and the Republic in general – things were a little different. With the most dangerous criminals either being executed or leading bands of bandits in the north, the prisoners here were non-violent. In addition, her youth had worked to her advantage. The prison guards had said in no uncertain terms that “any harm that befell her would be returned a hundredfold.”

Of course, that did not mean things were fantastic; prison was still a miserable experience she would not wish on the innocent. The food was palatable but bland, all their time was spent indoors or with their wings tied up, and the proclamation of the guards about harming her had been a little too effective. Nogriff dared to even speak with her.

Tanya looked out of the bars on her cell to see a large crowd protesting outside again. She had learned from the regular visits from Ernst that they were protesting for her, but she had mixed feelings about it.

‘Should I be grateful that they feel so strongly about my release, or shameful that my incarceration is resulting in so much squandered productivity? Really, what are they trying to prove? If they have so much time to waste, they should be working to get me released… or doing something beneficial for me like investing in my business. Anything would be better than crowding around the prison and making a nuisance.’

Ernst’s visits also allowed her to keep track of her student-employees’ progress and assign new homework. Ernst had been hesitant to support her co-op at first – what with the lack of socialist dogma and her shady use of orphans – but she rebutted him with hard facts. Nogriff was going to take care of those orphans if not for her, and the goal of her business was to be impartial and fix the problems that all workplaces in the country had: capitalist and otherwise. The idiot capitalists needed to take their workers more seriously and the socialists needed to actually do their jobs. What finally got him to agree was pointing out her previous successes. She had mediated workers’ disputes in the past with that exact same logic.

‘Of course, impartiality is just an excuse. Realistically it’s a proven fact that the politics of the Republic don’t belong in the workplace. The only thing that should drive the economy are the Free Market, the Invisible Hand of Capitalism and Common Sense. Unfortunately, everygriff here seems to utterly lack the latter…’

She looked away from the window and at a pile of paper on a nearby writing desk. It was the initial draft of her book. Fixing the common sense of the Republic had to be her primary goal upon her release. She had considered flying away to nearby Capitalist nations like Skyfall or even liquidating her assets and living like a hermit, but those were no longer realistic options. Now that she had been involved with politics for so long, it was clear that the political ideologies clashing within the Republic were just setting the stage for what was to come. Authoritarianism from Communism, Fascism and ancient Monarchies was bound to plunge the continent into war. As it stood, she had the attention – for better or worse – of the top officials in the Republic. If she was to make it to retirement alive, she could not let that opportunity go to waste.

She would show everygriff what a workplace was supposed to look like, no matter how much their incompetence got in the way.

A bell chimed and her cell door was unlocked by one of the guards. It was lunch time. Stuffing her manuscript into her shirt, she was escorted to the cafeteria where she was served chicken meatloaf, cabbage and potatoes. She lamented the lack of salt, but knew the food was edible… no matter how awful it looked and tasted. She sat down at a table by herself.

As always, most of the inmates left her alone, with one exception. Recently, a writer named Cornelius Vinke had caused a riot in a beer hall and was sentenced to spend a week in Powder Bridge Prison to “sober up”. Normally, less secure Remand Centers were used for that, but Cornelius apparently had a habit of breaking out of those. Despite his strange behavior, Tanya had worked hard to ingratiate herself with the author. The griffon was famous for his political works: everything from criticizing Harmonic Monarchies to praising Republicanism.

Waving him over, Vinke sat down across from her. She gave him a bright grin.

“I’ve managed to finish my first draft. You said you were willing to look at it? I don’t really need any grammatical correction – I’ll hire a proper editor for that – but a successful author such as you might-”

Vinke waved a claw dismissively.

“Yes, yes, little chick. Verily, my prodigious intellect will help you. While in this cage of stone and steel, your amateur writing will no doubt serve as an amusing distraction.”

Left at that, the two ate silently. Vinke glanced at her writing in between bites, but after only 3 pages, he shoved it her way.

“Bah! I would not inflict such tepid and dusty prose on my most hated of enemies! Just look at this title: “Griffon Resources: Maximizing the Productivity of the Worker”. Is this a treatise or an instruction manual? Nogriff would be convinced by such drivel! Where is the passion?! The appeals to the heart and soul?!”

Tanya huffed.

“That’s just sophistry! If I couch my words in “flowery” descriptions, I’ll only be muddying the message.”

Vinke sneered.

“Well? Are you a sophist, or a nobody? Perhaps you’d prefer to have lived the aristocratic life. As a Prince of some Boreas-forsaken hell-hole like Aquileia, you could push your dull manifesto on your servants, but this is the Republic! Politics is not about truth, it is about inciting the masses! Revolution! Truth will let your message stick, but it will not drive griffons to your cause. Do you not believe in your convictions?!”

Tanya grimaced. 

“Of course I believe in this! The concept of “Griffon Resources” will transform the Republic into a global superpower! If only people would read it-”

Vinke pointed his meatloaf-skewered fork in her direction.

“They won’t read it unless you shout it from the rooftops with your writing! Paint the picture of this so-called glorious future with your pen. When Maar once again walks among us and the apocalypse comes, perhaps your amusing little theory will help one iota, though I doubt it. No, when the cultists controlling the empire finally show their schemes…”

Tanya let the griffon writer ramble about his religious nonsense in peace. It was far from the worst she had heard. Really, for an atheist like herself, it was no stranger than the fact that they believed in gods at all. While magic existed, she had yet to see power on the same level as that which caused her to be reborn as a griffon. Save the fact that a griffons’ mass should prevent flight, the strangely colored flora and fauna, as well as a few pieces of enchanted equipment, there was little evidence of anything supernatural in the world at all. Certainly nothing that could not be adequately explained by a scientific theory or two. If such “gods” existed, they seemed content to let their faithful suffer.

‘Still… perhaps Vinke is right… no he must be right. He’s the successful writer. I’d assumed that – like Japanese Dutch Learning (蘭学) of great western works such as Clausewitz’ “On War” – so long as my book was on shelves and my points were well made, readers would find and use it to make their lives better; that politics wouldn’t play any part. It’s the same stupid trap I fall in again and again. The Republic is not my Japan. I have to completely change my way of thinking! This country seems dead set on making me a radical and refusing to listen to anything but sophistry and lies. Again and again, strikes and riots keep happening, but they. Just. Don’t. Learn!’

Finishing her lunch, the bell rang again and she was escorted back to her cell. Looking in the distance, she could see the protests still ongoing. Tanya felt like an idiot for needing Vinke to remind her what was in front of her face. She had just been too stubborn to admit it. If she was adamant on setting the nation straight, she could not pull her punches any more. She needed to use all her knowledge of ideologies and the industrialized world to her advantage.

Looking down at her manuscript, she crossed out the title. In its place, she wrote something much simpler: “The Workers’ Struggle”.
> 11 - Griffon Resources
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dead Heat! Mayoral Race has Incumbent Mayor Facing Radical Competition

The people of Cloudbury will soon go to the polls for the most important election in recent memory. This election, in particular, will highlight a clear separation between the government and its people. Until now, the people have been free of government interference to their liberty, their freedom and their business.

That will change if Radical Socialist and Leader of the Left-Wing National Republican Party –  Rikard Astler – wins. The long-time Councillgriff has always made his hard-line stance clear: that only with the abolition of private property, the nationalization of businesses, and the displacement of thousands of families will he be satisfied with a “job well done”. Despite his insane platform, thousands have already shown their support with mass-protests and gatherings across the city. These extremists believe that with this new leader, their workplaces will be safer, their lives easier and their employment inevitable.

They are wrong. As councilgriff, Rikard has shown no results with his radical strategy and appears dead-set on destabilizing Mayor Nicholas Egscher’s tenuous balance between sustainable economic growth and robust industrial reforms. Many experts predict that even a partial implementation of some of Rikard’s policies will reap disastrous consequences for the nation, with companies closing and workers losing their livelihoods.

When asked, Mayor Nicholas had this to say: “I do not remember in my 15 years of political service of an election in which the people were so interested in these kinds of reactionary policies. The meetings I’ve had have been eye-opening on where people think the real issues are. Still, I want there to be no talk about my apathy in their concerns. This election will not be won or lost on what citizens think are side-issues or personal attacks and I recognize that. I want a real opinion from the people on Socialism. If I get elected, it will be because the people voted NO.”

With the initial polls still favoring the Incumbent Mayor, there’s still an opportunity to side with level-headed and steady progress. While the rest of the nation is descending further into anarchy, there is hope for this last bastion of stability.

- Headline Article of the Griffonian Republic National Newspaper, Der Republifaner (4th Week of September 1003 Edition)





October 10th, 1003 – City Hall, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Nicholas POV

Over two thousand griffons packed themselves in front of City Hall. The din of the crowd was such that nothing else could be heard; even the impassioned screams of individual griffons shouting this or that was lost in the menagerie.

It was something that Nicholas Egscher – in his years as Cloudbury’s mayor – was accustomed to. He had heard from his grandfather – also a career politician – that politics was something often forgotten; a duty done behind closed doors with a quiet dignity and purpose. Perhaps in the years before the Revolution that was the case, but not anymore. Every event he held – no matter how small – drew a crowd. Everygriff wanted change, and they were willing to hound him every step of the way to get it. He could feel them silently judging. At any moment, the people could choose some populist over his hard work: somegriff that would say a lot of flowery words and false promises to win.

It was the only explanation he could think of for why he was standing before this crowd next to Rikard Astler, the leader of the socialists.

‘Socialism is a rot. Like a moldy cheese, it hides its foulness by pretending to be “normal”. To the ignorant masses, it’s a delectable dish, but by the time you bite into it, it’s too late to prevent the spread of the disease. All their slogans and policies sound reasonable: government work for everygriff, less work hours, more say in workplaces, so on and so forth. It’s all lies. One need only to look at Skynavia to see the results. A stagnant and broken system that can barely muster a barter economy. Thanks to Skyvania’s simple and infantile government, they’ve barely survived, but if our disjointed Republic – a nation where bandits and warlords are barely kept in check – were to face even a tenth of the economic damage, it would signal the end of the nation!’

He could not let that happen.

Unfortunately, the constitution of Cloudbury City put a wrench in his plans. It mandated that 3 weeks before the election on the 31st of October, a debate had to be held between all candidates with at least 10% of the vote from polling done on the 1st. As it stood, he held 48% of the vote… but Astler held 21%. The dozen other candidates could not make the cut. It was the worst case scenario. If even one more griffon had over 10%, he could play down Rikard’s importance, but as it stood, the debate made them look like “equals”.

A red light illuminated above the desk of a mediator who sat below them at the base of the City Hall’s steps. The crowd grew quiet as the mediator spoke. Their voice amplified by speakers to the crowd.

“Nicholas. Citizens have expressed concern over the refugee crisis in the city and rising unemployment. How will your administration work to address this?”

The current mayor nodded and turned his way towards the crowd with a smile and spoke into his microphone.

“My administration has already worked hard to fix this issue, so the question contains a bit of a misconception. There are more jobs in this city then ever before and with a new term I vow to continue that trend. The rise of refugees is a testament to our fair city’s success. Griffons flock to the city in droves for a chance to partake in the progress we’ve made, and with more investment in industry and job creators, progress will continue to happen. Cloudbury’s business is business!”

On hearing the slogan, a number of his supporters in the crowd loudly applauded. It took a few moments, but the applause spread with a majority clapping along. Getting these politically motivated griffons clapping to his platform was a tried and tested way of improving his image. These were griffons who would go home and tell their families to vote for him.

The mediator turned to Rikard. As per the etiquette of the debate, each candidate would be allowed to speak for at most 3 minutes without interruption. It used to be 5 minutes, but as more and more important issues came up, the time per question was cut down. Even with the reduction, debates still went on for over 6 hours.

“And your response?”

Rikard shook his head.

“Idealism and naivete. These refugees need a solution now and the fact that this problem continues after 4 years of Nicholas’ administration is proof that he’s not willing to fix it. Despite the government’s mismanagement, I’ve put money where my mouth is and have personally involved myself in charity work to ease the suffering in the slums. These are griffons who struggle just to survive. I have first-claw accounts of griffons turning away from crime and finding work thanks to our initiatives. As mayor, I plan on expanding this program. I will improve registration to keep the unemployed and refugees on the job market, and giving a helping claw to those who’ve fallen on hard times due to layoffs, sickness or conflict. The workers want to work!”

There was a similar amount of applause for Rikard’s statement, but Nicholas was not worried. This was one of the topics the L-NRP were polling well on. The fact that there was only similar levels of engagement with the electorate was actually encouraging. If that kept up, there was no chance Nicholas would lose.

The mediator turned back to Nicholas.

“Final remarks?”

Now that both candidates responded, the initial candidate would have the last say. Nicholas pointed to Rikard with a look of disbelief. While Rikard’s platform was old news to him now, he made himself look like these radical ideas were utterly foreign.

“It’s unbelievable. It should be clear for everygriff that Rikard’s L-NRP ties are as strong as always. Charity and a helping claw sound nice until you remember who’s paying for it. The last thing the taxpayers of Cloudbury need is another fee. I’ve had to fight beak-and-claw to help businesses keep the heat on in the winter. He talks about struggling refugees, but what about the struggling middle-class? Aren’t you suffering enough? I won’t let this Skyvalian spy turn this city into yet another failed Socialist Commune!”

The end of his speech was met with applause, but less than before. That was also expected. Responding was always harder since he could not prepare something ahead of time end things with a catchy slogan. He was satisfied though. Most griffons were still antagonistic towards the Skyvalian traitors that had abandoned the Republic, and the clear socialism in Rikard’s platform made an easy and effective political poison. Nicholas was sure to hammer that point home again and again.

The mediator flipped to a new page and turned to Rikard. Because beginning and ending a debate was so advantageous, doing so was cycled between the candidates to promote “fairness”.

“Rikard. You’ve highlighted what you say are issues with Cloudbury’s courts. This has citizens concerned. What do you plan to do to address this?”

Rikard grabbed a piece of paper and waved it before the crowd.

“For too long, the “Judge Selection Loophole” has created a two-tiered justice system: the haves and have-nots. This piece of paper in my claws has over 200 griffons on it; griffons in prison right now because their judge was picked not by an unbiased council, but by the mayor. A process with no oversight. What did these griffons do to earn the mayor’s ire? We may never know, and that should worry you. Any of you might be next, innocent or otherwise! While most court cases only have an incarceration rate of 62%, the griffons on this list were imprisoned 100% of the time! Every. Single. Case. Led to a conviction, regardless of the evidence or the likelihood of guilt. Does that sound like justice? I vow when I’m mayor to close this loophole and re-trial everygriff on this list. No justice but popular justice!”

That got the biggest applause yet, but it was also Rikard’s most popular platform. It was a dangerous topic and Nicholas had to be careful to keep spotlight on Rikard’s motivations instead of his own. He pointed to Rikard accusingly.

“Rikard’s naked selfishness is all anygriff should be seeing right now, but what can you expect from a socialist. They cry and whine about “the worker this” and “voting that”, but the moment they get a taste of power, it’s all me, me, me. He wasn’t ready or willing to become mayor until one of his criminal friends was arrested. No doubt his list is full of his bootlicking cronies he’s itching to have re-trailed by a “fair, unbiased” jury of his Skynavian Komerads. Don’t let his fear-mongering keep you from making the right choice. Cloudbury justice not Red justice!”

He got a good amount of applause for that, but not enough to stop him from worrying. He grimaced.

‘I really shouldn’t have let Heinrich dump his dirty business on me like that. If not for that stupid bannergriff, I would’ve had this election in the bag.’

The mediator turned to Rikard.

“Closing remarks?”

Rikard turned to Nicholas and smiled.

“The mayor here makes some interesting points. He’s right that I didn’t feel ready, I’d thought I could wait another term, but I was wrong. What he calls my criminal friend is a 12-year-old chick! A bannergriff that only ever wanted to do right by everygriff. A “socialist” who’d side with the capitalists and the factory owners if it meant an end to harsh workers’ strikes. A patriot that braved gunfire to help her fellow citizen. But don’t take my word for it.”

Rikard held up another piece of paper and looked around at the crowd.

“This is a signed draft that Tobias Sivenhof – a self-described apolitical figure – personally addressed to me detailing the failures of the justice system in Cloudbury. A vote for me isn’t a vote for a Democratic Socialist, but a vote for steady, level-headed change! I’ll not be taking away private property. I’ll not be selling out to the Skynavians as Nicholas will have you believe. My policy will be overseen by Tobias himself to transform the judiciary back to how it was supposed to be. A vote for me is a vote for a more honest, less corrupt Cloudbury. Let me free you from Nicholas’ tyranny!”

The applause was similar to before, but Nicholas was no longer listening for that. He was completely blindsided.

‘How did he get-?! Damn it, if Tobias is siding with them, that means all my political campaigns until now have been for nothing! All my talk about him being a radical will just look like the whining of a loser.’

He calmed himself and did not let his anger appear on his face. He was in public!

‘I haven’t lost yet, but it’s far too close. I need to change my tactics. More money for a few last-minute smear campaigns against Rikard and Tobias might salvage my more hard-line supporters, but I need to do something about their image.’

He needed to prove the socialists were sending the nation into chaos… and if they were content to lie and cheat to hide their real intentions, Nicholas would lie and cheat to reveal them for the terrorists they were.





October 13th, 1003 – Powder Bridge Prison, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Tanya POV

Tanya sat alone in her prison cell. Occasionally she would glance over at the crowds of griffons still protesting outside. She would say she was touched… but that would be lying.

‘Either they’re wasting valuable productive work hours yelling ineffectually into the wind or they’re my so-called “friends” in the L-NRP or the slums who’ve nothing better to do than ride on the coattails of my “infamy”. I suppose if they get me out of prison I can consider us even, but if they want that, don’t they have more important things they could be doing? The election is only a few weeks away! They should be canvasing the streets for votes!’

Ernst Thällgriff had told her the protesters were trying to encourage her and make her feel better during her prison stay… but why? She was fine. If anything, prison was something like a taste of what she imagined an early retirement would feel like.

‘Of course, I’d never say prison is a good thing. It’s clear that my preferential treatment is only thanks to my connections to powerful political figures. If anything, it’s the best and the worst of the Republic: corruption got me arrested in the first place, but favoritism allowed me to at least somewhat enjoy it. Regardless, I can’t wait to finally be out of here and doing something productive for a change.’

That wasn’t to say she had not been productive at all. She was now on the 4th draft of her book and was confident enough in it to begin talking to publishers and editors. While it would never be a best seller, she was at least confident that it would not be utterly ignored by the Republic’s readership either. As an example:

“Struggle is the law of nature: the survival of the fittest. Through the crucible of competition, griffons improve and overcome, but it is a burden. No creature can survive endless strife and unnecessary struggle breeds contempt. Conversely, collaboration is the law of civilization: the modern world is built on factories, farms, and government full of griffons working together, but it too is a burden. Corrupt and criminal people bring down and divide society.

“Politics seeks to regulate the millions of these daily struggles and collaborations at the national level to drive economic progress: an eternal campaign with no solution. No single political plan can possibly cover every situation, yet economic progress happens regardless. It happens because you make it happen. When you lead your co-workers to make improvements in your workplace or when you cut out the ineffective elements of your business, the economy prospers. In these ways your ingenuity and collaboration overcomes your struggles and the nation progresses into a brighter future. You alone make the nation a better place.”

Tanya groaned.

‘Argh, it’s so embarrassing! Two paragraphs just to point out common sense like “politics doesn’t absolve personal responsibility”. Of course the book still contains a lot of actually valuable information, but its buried underneath the rhetorical minutia. I suppose I should thank my surface-level marketing knowledge or I would be completely lost.’

She had made enough “calls-to-action” that it changed from the Human Griffon Resources (GR) Manual she wanted to write, and into something closer to a self-help book. The first part of the book “hyped up” the reader with the thousands of ways workers and business owners around the world improved society throughout history: from developing better tools to better procedures and better business practices. She made sure to emphasize the “super-griffon” results of these success stories, but also clarified that these entrepreneurs had humble origins not unlike the reader.

Then she made her “pitch” about GR: about improving oneself and one’s fellow griffon using the previous chapters as proof of its effectiveness in improving society. She showed how one could manage and organize griffons using metrics and analysis to determine areas of strength and weakness and use this data to improve productivity in subtle ways. A chapter then detailed ways to work around roadblocks made by politics and regulations regardless of whether the policies were socialist or capitalist. Finally, she discussed the limitations of GR, such as how metrics discovered by workers could be “gamed”, the importance of qualitative intangibles like morale and happiness, and so on.

Every paragraph had to reinforce to the reader how they were a part of the value being cultivated and every action they made proved their worth to others. That was what she took away from the other popular Republican works she had read: the emphasis on what small things the reader can do to become part of the message. She reinforced that point: so long as the reader went above and beyond in their workplace, their actions would be rewarded by the system. That was the fundamental axiom through which the modern world functioned, but it was something she felt was sorely lacking in the Republic.

The additional “fluff” also meant that – what had initially been a mere 10-or-so pages – turned into a 200 page novel. Her cell looked to be made of paper now.

“Tanya, your… guest is here.”

Tanya was interrupted from her work by the voice of a prison guard at her cell door. Nodding in acknowledgment, she put away her writing and held her claws out through a hole in the door to be cuffed. Once the manacles rendered her even more harmless, the guard opened the cell and led her to small room at the far end of the prison complex.

Unlike the scenes she had seen in movies, there was no plexiglass bisecting the room or phones built into the walls for her to talk through. Instead, the meeting room was just an ordinary one with four chairs and a table in the center. Tanya figured that practical concerns trumped security. With how poor and primitive the Republic was, corners were no doubt cut where needed.

After about 15 minutes of tedious waiting, the far door opened and a 14-year-old griffon chick with black and white feathers walked in.

Astrid was one of her student-employees at her Griffon Resources Co-Op. Despite the two year age-difference, she was a full head taller than Tanya. She wore a plain white sundress and black pants. The clothing was not for aesthetics; they were cheap and would not need to be regularly tailored as she grew. Astrid had started visiting the prison ever since Ernst stopped a week ago… which was for the best. The L-NRP Propaganda Head’s mood had been diminishing with each visit. Tanya could empathize, the prison atmosphere was not conducive to pleasant emotions.

Unlike the other orphans Tanya had “adopted”, Astrid was something of a “special case”. She was the oldest and the one least-effected by Tanya’s threats to send her to Red if she misbehaved. Luckily, she also seemed to idolize her. Astrid had heard of Tanya’s time as a courier and looked up to her as a role-model. Tanya could only conclude that her work-ethic and knowledge were being admired and seized the opportunity. Tanya took her on as a “protege” of sorts and Astrid took to the concept of Griffon Resources like a bird to flight.

Astrid had a large smile on her face as she practically leaped into the chair across from Tanya.

“It’s so good to see you, boss! I must’ve read your manuscript a hundred times since yesterday! It’s incredible! The world makes so much sense now! I’d always assumed that I wasn’t meant to be born… when everygriff told me I was worthless…”

Astrid paused and frowned. She pulled out the thick stack of papers from a saddlebag on her back. It was the 2nd draft of Tanya’s book. Tanya was already on her 4th draft so she did not mind giving the ambitious chick some extra homework if it kept her out of trouble. Astrid placed the pages delicately on the table in front of her and smoothed out a crinkle. She gave Tanya a big smile again and pointing excitedly towards the papers.

“…but I see now its those lying adults that were wrong! Griffons are resources to be cultivated and orphans like me are resources with the most potential! I’m so glad there is somegriff like you that could see my value and save me from their awful lies!”

Tanya could not help but chuckle.

‘There really is nothing worse than unemployment, is there? Most of the problems in the Republic could be solved just by giving everygriff jobs. Look at how eager griffons are to work! Once the Republic is back on track, I can step back and live out a quiet retirement safe in the knowledge that there will be plenty of hard working griffons to take my place.’

Tanya returned Astrid’s smile.

“No need to thank me. Each and every one of my student-employees are valuable resources for making the Republic a better place. Now we just need to get everygriff else on board.”

Astrid nodded and leaned forward at the table.

“Exactly! I’ve already been spreading your message in the slums and I think there are a lot of griffons interested in what you’re planning!”

Tanya was continually impressed by Astrid’s initiative. Had there been ambitious children like this in Japan? Tanya had been something of a loner in High School, but she remembered plenty of go-getters in the student council or in slice-of-life manga. Unfortunately, while Astrid’s drive was not in doubt, Tanya did wonder about her motivation. The chick was something of a sycophant: always agreeing with her ideas and sucking up to her. Luckily, Tanya had training as an HR manager and suck-ups were the easiest employees to manage. So long as she received second opinions from others and properly punished any, Tanya should be able to focus Astrid’s ambitions in productive ways.

For now, Tanya wanted to reinforce her employee’s determination. 

“That’s great to hear. You did an excellent job. I’m expecting a lot of growth once our results speak for themselves. The next few years are going to see the biggest Return On Investment in history. 200% or even 1000% annualized ROI will be commonplace. Once automation and resource management are explicit and forecast-able, there will be no end to funding as stakeholders reinvest their profits back into their companies. After all, anygriff will be able to see the explosion in worker productivity as a start of mass-industrialization and would be stupid not to capitalize.”

Astrid looked awestruck.

“You’re two years younger than me, but you see everything so clearly! How do you do it?”

Tanya grimaced. With how extraordinary her circumstances were, it was better to let people come to their own conclusions.

“Ah… well I suppose you could say I was born this way. Still, my knowledge isn’t anything special.”

Astrid nodded emphatically and pointed to the book-draft on the table between them.

“Exactly! It’s like you said last time; this is all just a new form of Common Sense. Really, it’s no wonder that you were arrested. Really, that those lying adults fear your message only proves how important you are.”

Tanya frowned.

‘She must have been hearing some propaganda from that corrupt judge. I’ll want to nip that in the bud in case she develops any wrong ideas.’

Tanya shook her head.

“I’m not some sort of criminal, Astrid. Once Rikard’s elected mayor, he’s promised a fair retrial to prove my innocence. No, something like my book is harmless. In fact, it’s not politics at all! While the… passionate rhetoric might seem a little opinionated, the concept of Griffon Resources is perfectly compatible with any system of government.”

Tanya chuckled.

“Really, I’m not out to form a new political party, GR is about seeing things in a new way and bringing out the efficiency of the average worker. That’s something everygriff wants. The Harmonists want griffons to work together, Capitalists want to compete, Socialists… want to laze around. Everygriff has their wants and needs and it’ll be our job to work behind the scenes so that everygriff is happy and productive. It’ll be thankless work – many of the workers and owners will be frustrated with the compromises they’ll have to make – but our reward will be the money we make and the knowledge we helped make a better society.”

Astrid listened to her every word with rapt attention. While Tanya believed she was a bit too much of a yes-griffon, there was also no doubt that the eager chick was very intelligent and absorbed every bit of information told to her.

Astrid took out a notepad and pencil and began writing things down.

“Of course, we have to show how harmless we are. You’re right, I’m getting carried away.”

The pencil paused and the black-and-white chick frowned.

“But I’m not as smart as you. I’ve had trouble understanding things. How do I know who to fight for? The workers? The owners? Where do I draw the lines for where to compromise?”

Tanya nodded sympathetically. It was frustrating that there was no clear answers. In Japan, the answer was obvious, but the Republic muddied the waters. Both socialism and crony capitalism were rampant!

“It’s something I’ve struggled with too. As much as I can write things down in my book, GR is not something that can be boiled down to simple “rules”. You must remain unbiased, focus on the facts, and be flexible. Try to quantify how much more productive a given decision will make workers and weigh that against the possible loss in profits. Weigh factors like employee retention and a company’s long-term growth. Companies that are profitable should try to retain their valuable talent and grow, while unprofitable businesses should “trim the fat”. Some businesses should even be allowed to fail or merge with more successful ones. This is not a measure of their worth, but factors outside our control.”

Tanya tapped at her manuscript on the table.

“The important thing is to work with your fellow GR Managers. Patterns of success and failure will emerge and it will be our responsibility to distill that information into processes that will benefit society. Let the workers focus on work, the owners focus on growth, while you focus on management.”

Astrid hardly looked up from her notepad as she nodded along and furiously scribbled things onto the pieces of paper. She paused and looked up with a hopeful expression.

“Right. And now for something a little less theoretical. I think I know who to side with now… but I’m not sure what to do. You see, a business owner is trying to undermine their employees with lies in the media. What would I do to counter that?”

Tanya groaned.

‘I knew it was something like that! Why is it always the owners in the wrong?! I swear, do the capitalists hire from prisons or something? This is nothing like Japan at all!’

Tanya sighed.

“You need the owner to back down. What they’re doing is illegal and negatively impacts their Public Relations. Of course, often people think that lies don’t matter as long as they push the message hard enough and at that point you can only fight fire with fire. Find proof of what they’re doing wrong and threaten to go public with the information but only as a last resort. Public mudslinging doesn’t benefit anygriff; not the owner and certainly not the workers. Remember, this is a job creator. They are a vital part of our plan and you’ll need to work with them to solve the problem.”

Astrid nods, writes a final note in on her notepad and shoots up from her seat.

“Thank you so much! I’ve an idea and have to go! Don’t worry, I’ll keep working hard with Rikard to get elected so you can be freed! I’ll be sure to come back again to give you more updates!”

Tanya smiled at her enthusiasm as she rushed out the door, but she said nothing.

‘Of course, little Astrid won’t be able to help at all… she’s just a chick. Still, there’s no point discouraging her. With Tobias and the C-NRP working with them, Rikard probably has a shot at getting me out? Right?’

She sighed. She had a 4th draft to finish… and would probably have plenty of time to write a 5th.
> 12 - A Helping Claw
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Workplace Violence on the Rise! Mayor asks for army involvement in quelling unrest.

With socialism normalized in the public perception, the past few weeks have seen workers across Cloudbury striking against their employers in droves. The evolving crisis has crippled our city’s economic and healthcare systems as the strikers are better armed and equipped than the police and owner-supported officials sent to keep the violence under control. Cloudbury General Hospital has already reported overcrowding as it struggles to treat the dozens of wounded first-responders and fatalities have begun to mount. The hospital administration has noted that October 9th was the worst day for them since the street-by-street fighting against bandits this time last year.

In response to the mounting crisis, Mayor Nicholas has called on the Kemerskai administration to authorize the urgent deployment of “a specialized armed force” to deal with the crisis. The Mayor has said that “[such an action] is necessary. I want to resolve this with my own authority, but the timing of these protests couldn’t be worse. Should I take direct action so close to an election – with a known socialist as my main competition – I would be accused of voter tampering. I want to assure the electorate that I am not against worker action when it is safe and productive, but these recent strikes are beyond the pale. Now, only the national government can handle the growing violence while also keeping an already delicate situation from becoming worse. I refuse to turn this into a political sideshow.”

What was left unsaid is the undeniable context: this sudden “worker action” is not an accident; not so close to the election. Rikard Astler – leader of the L-NRP and mayoral candidate – can only benefit from these growing worker tensions. While the rest of the Republic struggles to maintain order, the socialist leader continues to gain support and votes. Certainly, once elected these strikes will “suddenly cease” and things will go “back to normal”… but will this new normal be one which benefits the middle-class or the socialist elite?

- Article on the front page of the Griffonian Republic National Newspaper, Der Republifaner (2nd Week of October 1003 Edition)





October 14th, 1003 – Ring Motors Tractor Plant, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Clara POV

Clara Löwenkin of the L-NRP was understandably frustrated.

The Ring Motors Tractor Plant in the heart of Cloudbury was a sprawling complex in the north-end of the city. As the only domestic producer of tractors, it was a vital part of the national interest; especially in a Republic which was still only one bad harvest away from famine. Numerous foreign experts and large tax injections had been fed into the company to maintain a high level of production. The idea was to create enough tractors to replace the aging steam-powered machines and beasts of burden still used in agriculture. Despite this, it could not keep up with the rapid pace of modernization of the former aristocratic manorial farmsteads of the former Duchy. The Republic to this day still relied on food imports during the Republic’s harsh winters.

The situation was a political powder-keg: the Right-Wing had demanded the dead nobles’ estates transition to private ownership while the Left-Wing wanted collectivization to solve both the unemployment crisis and food shortages at the same time. As it stood, President Kemerskai had stepped in to create an unsatisfactory half-measure: the government collectivized the farmland but with oversight of the R-NRP whose policies created monopolies – such as Ring Motors – which were given exclusive rights to outfit the farms with the industrial tools they needed to function. This was considered “necessary” as past attempts by the R-NRP to purchase the land had resulted in an economic crisis every time. As it turned out, there really was no price high enough on farmland when a nation was half-starved for food. Yet despite the R-NRP’s numerous failings, nogriff had trusted the new socialist party; not when the Skynavian abandonment was so fresh in peoples’ minds at the time. 

Times were changing, but Clara still knew she had to treat any issues arising from Ring Motors with delicacy and tact. She had been uncharacteristically moderate in her support of the workers who had begun to strike against unfair changes to their employment. She knew one wrong move could exacerbate the food issues and paint a very unfavorable image of socialism in turn.

‘If only somegriff would remind the owner’s damned thugs about that!’

*PING* *PING* *PING*

The sound of metal crowbars, clubs and axes banging on the brick and concrete exterior of the Ring Motors Factory rang out as dozens of workers piled furniture and equipment against the barred doors and windows. What had, at first, been a simple sit-in strike escalated into a siege as the owner’s union busters tried to break in and attack the workers. Clara had tried reasoning with the thugs, but it was no use. At first she though it was an issue with language: she spoke Cloudburian while they spoke Herzlander. As the situation developed and her limited understanding of Herzlander began to pick up bits-and-pieces of their words, however, she could clearly see that her fluency was not the problem. The pot-shots of rifles hitting the boarded-up windows and repeated yells of “surrender or die” in broken Cloudburian made it clear that they were not “receptive to diplomatic efforts” as Ernst or Rikard might put it.

Clara frowned.

“I think we’re being played.”

One of the Plant’s Factory-line Managers – a male griffon who was taking a break from bracing against the door – turned to Clara and frowned.

“What do you mean? Obviously this nonsense is yet another stupid game by management to-”

Clara shook her head.

“The owner’s being way more aggressive than she should be. This is the second strike like this in as many weeks: once is a coincidence, but twice is a pattern. I’ve been in a lot of strikes and there's always a few days of discussion before the situation breaks down. One-sided violence before the end of day 1 is unheard of.”

The Manager shook his head.

“If that’s the case, why not do whatever you did to resolve that other strike?”

Clara grimaced.

“The workers gave up after a few days, not that I blame them. I hope this doesn’t start a trend or workers everywhere will have to make some hard decisions… Speaking of which, Ring Motors hasn’t had a strike in over a year, right? Did all this just come out-of-the-blue?”

The Manager sneered and spat on the plant floor in disgust.

“That’s right; it’s ridiculous! Honestly, things were going great. The other managers and I were even starting to get a few safety measures built in: rail guards for the turret lathes, emergency shut-offs for the assembly lines, and things like that. Then – out of nowhere – the boss cuts wages in half and we suddenly need to pay for our own tools! I’ve a family to feed and most of the workers are too specialized now to get better pay elsewhere. Ring Motors has a monopoly on engine production. Damn it, I just don’t know what went wrong?!”

“The owner’s been bought off by the mayor to force this strike.”

A new voice sounded out from behind them, causing Clara and the Manager to turn around in surprise. Thankfully, Clara’s instinctive fear that the union busters outside had breached the walls somehow were unfounded. Instead, the voice belonged to a black-and-white chick whose tiny body shimmied her way out of a small vent. The action was suspicious and as the chick glided harmlessly to the ground, the L-NRP activist was put immediately on-edge.

“What- How- Who are you?”

Rather than respond right away, the chick took out a business card from her saddlebag, held it in both claws, and bowed, presenting it towards her. Clara ignored the strange gesture as some weird “business” thing she did not understand, but she reluctantly took the card. It looked well made at least.

The chick looked up and smiled.

“Astrid from Griffon Resources. I’m here to help.”

Clara knew that name.

“Isn’t that Tanya’s Co-Op? Wait, so you’re one of Tanya orphans-”

Astrid shook her head with a furious expression on her face.

“No! I’m the Boss’ employee. I have a job and I’m valuable! I’m not just some orphan!”

Clara knew a social landmine when she heard it and immediately backed off.

“Alright, alright. Sorry, but Tanya being your boss doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. You say the Mayor’s involved, but I don’t see it. How does any of this benefit a politician?”

She gestured to the chaos around her: the workers desperately keeping factory walls from collapsing and fighting however they could against the bandits trying to break in.

Astrid’s expression quickly changed back into a smile again. She coughed into a claw and straightened up.

“We at Griffon Resources are committed to a culture of workplace resolution using a diverse range of effective strategies while ensuring compliance with all federal and municipal regulations. Our goal is quality and that means consulting services tailor-made to suit your business needs. If I can get in touch with your business owner, I’m sure I can get this whole situation cleared up without any risk of further violence.”

‘What in Boreas’ name…?’

Clara sighed. Normally, she would have dismissed the chick as just another weirdo. In the context of being one of Tanya’s friends – one who slipped into a besieged factory unnoticed no less – Clara had to at least hear her out.

“Right… I’m not sure I got all that, but regardless, having a meeting with the boss is easier said than done. The goons outside are content to just bash or shoot their way through any of us to get what they want. I’m not risking any lives here. I brought in enough food to last us a few more days so-”

Astrid turned furious again.

“No! You can’t do that! Don’t you see you’re playing into the mayor’s claws?”

Clara was just confused now.

“You keep saying this is some conspiracy by the mayor, but I’m not sure if you understand politics. If anything this whole situation works in our favor. They’re trying to kill us! How else could-”

Astrid smacked her face, grabbed a newspaper from her saddlebag and threw it at the L-NRP activist.

“Argh, you don’t get it! Look at what people are saying about you.”

Clara unfolded the newspaper and read the headline.

“…12-time convicted criminal – L-NRP socialist Clara Löwenkin – fires on perimeter guards?! What?! They’re saying I’ve riled up the workers and I’m trying to use the strike to overthrow the government! What kind of crap is this? They have no proof; there isn’t even a picture! How do they think they’ll get away with this?”

Astrid raised an eyebrow.

“The hospital is giving out death certificates to whoever asks for them… apparently Mayor Nicholas’ “donations” to them are paying dividends now. Of course, even that probably isn’t necessary. My Boss said that real proof doesn’t matter, just what people believe. If you keep having strikes and they keep saying guards are getting killed…? Well, they’ll think this is yet another Cavegrove Lumberyard Massacre.”

Clara crumpled up the paper in frustration.

“Then what are we going to do? We can’t quit now! I refuse to condemn these workers to slavery just to avoid some bad press! Socialism is supposed to help the workers!”

Astrid leaned on one of the plant’s machines with a smarmy grin on her face.

“Thankfully, Griffon Resources is here to help. We want Rikard elected just as much as you do, so he can get the Boss out of prison. All you need to do is wave a white flag out the window.”

It took Clara a moment to process what she just heard.

“Excuse me?! I just said we’re not surrendering-”

Astrid groaned.

“Do they look like they want you to surrender? Just do it. You want peace talks right? Just push a flag out the door and let Griffon Resources take care of the rest.”





The white flag worked as well as could be expected. One of the workers had attached a thick white cloth to the end of a metal pole and stuck it out a second-story window. It had been far away from the union busters trying to break in, but that did not last long. After about a minute, the bandits had brought a ladder and quickly dismantled the makeshift flag. They even managed to use the hole made by the flagpole to make even more headway towards breaking into the factory.

‘I won’t be making that mistake again.’

In hindsight, Clara should have never listened to the chick, yet it had been worth a shot. If – for some reason – the thugs had taken the flag as a legitimate sign of surrender, it might have been a way to bring both sides to a table to settle things diplomatically. As it was, it just reinforced in her mind that there was no way out of this scenario except through the liberal application of good-old-fashioned violence. As she ran through methods in her mind on how to use the machines in the factory to build makeshift weapons, however, Astrid seemed to be perfectly confident that things were going well.

“Cease fire! Stop it! I’m going out! Damn it, I said pull back! Do you want me to cause problems with your boss?!”

Before Clara had a chance to question Astrid’s confidence, a new female Herzlander voice shouted its way through the din and chaos of the siege. Clara peeked through a crack in a nearby boarded window and saw two well-dressed griffons make their way through the crowd of thugs at the doors. The thugs slowly backed away from the griffons and so Clara did not need to understand Herzlander to realize that this could only be the Owner of Ring Motors.

The other well-dressed person – male griffon next to the boss – shouted in Cloudburian.

“Sonja Ring – the Owner of Ring Motors – wants to speak with Clara of the L-NRP! We come in peace, but if you’re worried, we’ll stand between you and our guards to avoid further violence! We’re having them back off, see?”

Clara could tell – based on Sonja’s rage-filled expression – that the translation was almost certainly missing a few “heated” comments. Sure enough though, the thugs and union busters slowly stepped back a good 100 meters away from the factory.

Astrid stood in front of Clara with a smirk.

“Looks like everything’s going according to plan.”

Clara grabbed her by the withers.

“What did you do?”

Astrid calmly escaped her grasp, never letting her smirk fall from her face.

“Come on, they want to speak to us.”

Clara frowned.

“They want to speak with me.”

Ignoring her, Astrid quickly rushed to unbar the door despite several workers trying to convince the chick otherwise. Clara could tell that everygriff was fearful of what would happen if the door was left open should hostilities resume, but she sighed and told the workers to let the chick do what she wanted. If no one went out to meet the owner, the situation would never improve.

‘I guess after working with Tanya, I’m used to chicks causing no end of trouble. I shouldn’t trust her but… Astrid at least has some sort of plan. That’s better than me right now. I’ve been on the back-paw since this whole thing started.’

With the door unbarred, Clara and Astrid walked under a newly made white flag towards the factory owner and the translator. Clara would have preferred to keep the chick far away from any chance to cause an incident, but apart from tying her down, that would be impossible. The last thing this situation needed was for the chick rush out from the factory and cause a panic. The next best place for her, then, would be by Clara’s side. 

The translator was the first to speak.

“I am Johannes Stonebeak, translating on behalf of Sonja Ring here.”

Clara immediately recognized the griffon as one who had translated for a number of other owners in past strikes. Stonebeak was a personal translator for Heinrich Kingfeather; the Leader of the R-NRP. 

“I’m Clara Löwenkin. I suppose it should be telling that one of Heinrich’s translators is here. I guess I should’ve expected the R-NRP to be behind this.”

Stonebeak grimaced.

“What? No, I’m not here under orders from the R-NRP. Please, this is a private affair and-”

Clara growled.

“I’ve seen enough slander in the newspaper to know that’s a lie! What do you-”

Sonja Ring threw a newspaper which Clara deftly caught.

“Enough of your Cloudburian gibberish. What in Boreas’ name is this?! Are you trying to destroy my business? Did you think your scare-tactics would work?”

Stonebeak reluctantly took a step back and translated everything word-for-word.

Clara looked to the newspaper headline with surprise: “Hired Thugs ruthlessly beat Ring Motor Strikers trying to Surrender”. Below the title was a picture taken from behind the perimeter fence surrounding the plant. It not only showed the union busters tearing down the white flag they had put up just a few hours earlier, but also the owner in the foreground, looking at the scene with satisfaction.

Clara looked down towards Astrid.

‘How did you…? You had this all planned out from the beginning? You even framed the shot perfectly…’

All but confirming her thoughts, Astrid smirked at the factory owner.

“That newspaper isn’t published yet… but that can change at any time. The question is, what are you going to do about it? Is this what you want, your business ruined because the mayor couldn’t do his own dirty work?”

Waiting a moment for Stonebeak to translate, Sonja smirked back.

“Is that what you think? You don’t know the first thing about-”

Surprisingly, Astrid did not wait for the translation and responded back in Herzlander.

“Your business is being destroyed as we speak and you’re smiling?! Your valuable, skilled, workers are talking about quitting, your Public Relations tainted and for what? A few favors from a mayor that hasn’t even been elected yet?”

Sonja frowned.

“A mayor that will be elected when-”

Astrid gestured around.

“Is this what the actions of a mayor destined to be elected looks like? If Nicholas can only succeed on the ruins of your business, that’s not things going well, that’s desperation!”

Sonja let out a frustrated scoff.

“And what’s the alternative? A socialist? Better my business ruined now with a chance of recovery than letting that idiot get elected. He’d ruin the nation!”

Once Stonebeak had finished translating what was going on, Clara stepped in between them. She needed to take back control of the situation.

“Enough! Rikard has already vowed to suspend any socialist reforms. We have Tobias Sivenhof himself vouching for us. What more do you want?!”

Sonja glared.

“And why are you suddenly walking-back your radical beliefs now? All you socialists know is deceit. You sneak into my factories and undermine my otherwise happy and productive workers. Why should I believe anything you say?”

Astrid stepped back into the conversation.

“Because you’ve seen the truth for yourself! You now know how low the mayor is willing to go for power. Is it any surprise a coalition has formed between the L-NRP and C-NRP to take him down? We just want the mayor’s insanity to end!”

Sonja looked like she wanted to yell something in response but she paused. She was looking behind them, towards the factory.

“Insanity… This whole situation really is crazy, isn’t it.”

Sonja groaned and frustratingly scratched at the feathers on her head. She turned to Clara.

“Argh, fine! Alright, you “win”. I’ll undo any changes to their wages, but you let the workers know this wasn’t my fault. My problem is with you L-NRP nutcases, not my workers. I want you out of here and I want them back to work tomorrow like none of this ever happened.”

One of the union-busting thugs overhearing the conversation yelled out.

“What?! We had a deal-”

Sonja’s expression turned nasty as she pointed to the thugs and then towards the perimeter gate of the factory.

“We had a deal. Now I expect you off of my property! Right! Now! Did you think I would just sit by and watch you tear apart my legacy with axes and crowbars forever?! This was not what I agreed to. You tell the mayor we can “renegotiate” once he’s re-elected and not a moment earlier!”

The armed thugs grumbled but they did not push their luck. With shouts of “the mayor will hear of this” and “you haven’t see the last of us” they filed their way out of the factory gates.

With the situation finally under control, Clara was more than happy to head back to the workers and tell them the good news. She left out nothing, informing them of the mayor’s plot, the politics involved, and that their lives would soon be returning back to normal. While she would have preferred that Rikard’s mayoral candidacy had not caused the problem in the first place, it proved in her mind that the L-NRP was growing to be a serious political influence in the country.

The Factory Line Manager was relieved.

“Thank Boreas this is over. I’m not happy going back to work tomorrow and pretending like my boss wasn’t willing to throw us all under the bus like that, but I’m not sure if I can blame him. I never would’ve guessed the mayor was so corrupt! I guess I know who I’m voting for!”

The workers cheered, hugged and shook claws with one-another. After a few minutes, they instinctively got to work: reorganizing the piled-up furniture and equipment back to their proper places in the factory. Clara was so distracted by the scene that she only now realized she had seen nor heard from Astrid in a while. It took her a few more minutes, but just as she was about to give up her search, she found the chick talking with Sonja Ring and Stonebeak outside.

Clara had missed most of their conversation, but she arrived in time to see Astrid pointing to some complicated-looking charts and graphs.

“…and so by focusing more on health benefits and other intangibles, you’re more likely to retain workers at less cost. It’s all about setting yourself apart from the competition. It might seem unnecessary, but if you can avoid strikes before they happen for a couple of years, you can see on this graph here that the overall likelihood of a future strike is reduced by as much as 80%.”

Clara was not surprised to see Astrid talking to the owner – Tanya had also been strangely chatty with capitalists – but what did surprise Clara was that Sonja seemed receptive. The conversation was in Herzlander, but she did not need an understanding of the language to know that a capitalist nodding in agreement with something was not anything she would have approved of.

Once Astrid saw the L-NRP activist approach, she quickly finished her speech and did more strange “bowing” gestures to give her business card to the 2 capitalists. Clara was puzzled that they were just as confused about the bowing as she had been.

‘I thought it was a weird business thing, but if not… where did Astrid learn to bow like that?’

Astrid smiled through their bewilderment as Sonja and Stonebeak put the business cards into their coat pockets.

“Sorry, but it seems I have to go. Please keep Griffon Resources in mind! Our rates are very reasonable!”

Sonja nodded before gesturing for Stonebeak to follow her back into her factory. No doubt she wanted to salvage any amount of goodwill she might have left with her employees. Clara hoped the owner died in a fire.

Clara turned to glare at Astrid.

“Well? What was that about? Why were you getting so cozy with the Owner of Ring Motors?”

Astrid frowned.

“Is that the thanks I get for helping you? Tanya’s worked with you socialists to mediate with the capitalists before, what’s the difference here?”

Clara grimaced.

“Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… Tanya spent months working with us before those negotiations. I suppose I just don’t trust you yet.”

Astrid smiled… and Clara realized every smile the chick had shown until now was fake. This one was bright and genuine. Astrid held the pile of papers she had shown to Sonja tightly to her chest.

“If you trust the Boss, you can trust us. We’ll follow wherever Our Leader wishes and right now, that means we’re apolitical. We’ll work for whoever is paying us: socialist and capitalist. After all, Griffon Resources is a paradigm shift in workplace management that anygriff can benefit from.”

Clara frowned.

“You should know better than anygriff that the capitalists treat the poor in the slums like trash. Is Tanya really going through with this?”

Astrid scoffed.

“And why not? Did any of you adults in the L-NRP keep her out of prison?’

Clara grimaced.

“That…”

She sighed.

“I suppose I’ve no right to argue with that. I still don’t know why she was arrested, but we failed her to protect her when she needed it most.”

Astrid nodded.

“At least you’re finally doing the right thing. Besides, I failed her too… but I won’t let anything happen to her ever again. Tanya’s going to help all of us orphans get jobs and become productive and valuable griffons. We won’t let you adults keep treating us like dirt!”

Clara looked to the small chick with a pitiful expression.

“I guess I took Tanya’s support for the L-NRP for granted; I never considered it from her perspective. We did do some charity in the slums and we helped her out, but I won’t pretend that we’ve done much to improve things for the orphans in the long term. If working a little for the capitalists on the side means a better life for you chicks, who am I to get in your way? You deserve a chance at happiness.”

Astrid gave her a fierce grin.

“The Boss has already promised me happiness so there’s no “chance” involved. Whether its from prison or a Skyfallian penthouse, I’d follow her anywhere.”

Astrid shook her head.

“No, I’m doing all this for her, not myself. I’ll make sure that Our Leader gets everything she deserves and more.”

Clara tried to get clarification on the ominous phrasing, but the chick ignored her, turned around and left. It was only when she met with a group of chicks just outside the perimeter fence that she realized why she felt so suspicious and uncomfortable around her.

‘She’s just like me when I was a chick… The hatred of adults, the drive to fix things for everygriff, the anger… I just hope Tanya’s the same positive role-model as Rikard was for me. Those years of pain aren’t something I’d wish on anygriff.’





October 16th, 1003 – Red’s Casino, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Red POV

Red was having her ordinary routine disrupted again and again.

She should have known that getting involved with Tanya – the most infamous street rat in the slums – would be setting her business up for upheaval, but Red had thought that would only come months or years down the road. Between Tanya’s arrest and the election, however, Red found herself getting more and more tied up in a web of conspiracy; a web she could not see the edges of anymore.

“…and that’s how the situation was handled. The mayor’s plot is foiled and Tanya has a potential new customer, killing two pegasi with one stone.”

Astrid finished her account of the Ring Motors strike with a clinical detachment Red was unused to with the chick. How quickly things had changed for the small black-and-white youngster. Just a few months earlier, Astrid had been a moody and violent teenager who was more likely to solve her problems with a butterfly knife than with words. The stereotypical “slum rat” who led a small gang, hated everything, and would do almost anything for a hot meal. Red had thought the chick would be the perfect little spy into Tanya’s new business: somegriff who would not grow attached and would be perfectly happy supplying information in return for a little extra cash on the side.

‘Just one visit to the prison was all it took for Astrid to change sides… although that isn’t quite right. Astrid was never really on my side, but I also never thought she could have a side. I suppose it isn’t a problem – I never spied on Tanya because of a lack of trust – but it’s one more concern in a quickly growing list. It’s common sense that I want to better understand the type of business Tanya’s planning, especially since the chick’s so Boreas-damned tight-lipped about her plans. It’s clear that she has no qualms about criminal activity – if her history as a drug-running “courier” is any indication – and she wants to work closely with me, yet she refuses to let me invest in her business…’

Tanya was a frustrating mess of contradictions. She refused Red’s money because she “could not settle on an ROI percentage and stock options” but it was not like Red was strapped for cash. She had so much excess unlaundered money she was stuffing it beneath the casino’s floorboards. She could not use it – not even to donate to charity – because it would bring a lot of unwanted attention, but investing in Tanya’s business was the sort of thing that could help launder some of it. Tanya ought to know that, but she still refused.

Red looked up from her paperwork and let out a frustrated sigh in Astrid’s direction.

“Then I guess everything is working out perfectly for Tanya’s release. It seems my contacts in the media worked out well for you. You must have really tightened the screws on them if you could get them to make you a draft newspaper in less than two hours. Anyway, with this, the last chance for Mayor Nicholas to be re-elected has slipped through the cracks; not that he had any real chance to begin with. While the former mayor might’ve seen the obvious political maneuvering of the C-NRP and L-NRP joining forces under Rikard, he completely missed my own operations in the slums. The election on the 31st will see a near 100% turnout of the “lower-classes”. I’ve had my griffs promoting Rikard hard and even had regular soup-kitchens in the future locations of the polling stations. Nogriff seems to appreciate how effective a little money in the slums can be in getting votes, and I aim to surprise them.”

Astrid smirked.

“There’s at least one griff who knows that all too well. The Boss said… she said…”

Astrid frowns, takes out a well-used notepad and flips through the pages. Finding a page, she looked up with a bright smile. It was an expression Red had never expected on the chick’s face until recently. She had been dour and moody for as long as Red had known her.

“Ah, right! The Boss said that she’s “expecting a lot of growth once our results speak for themselves… even 1000% annualized ROI… anygriff will be able to see the explosion of worker productivity as a start of mass-industrialization and would be stupid not to capitalize”.”

Red tapped a claw on her desk.

“Mass-Industrialization, huh? From anygriff else that would be idle talk. The R-NRP’s been harping on the “inevitable start of the 2nd Industrial Revolution” for over 15 years now. Tanya – on the other claw – has already proven her expertise. Despite only being a consultant, she’s made the 3rd Munitions Plant in Squark so effective it still cranks out one hundred 11mm rounds an hour over their competitors; that’s despite heavy investment from the Right in the other factories to try and save face. Armaments Minister Erich Kreiger still doesn’t know how they do it; he thinks it’s some scheme cooked up by the L-NRP, the fools. No, Tanya doesn’t know the definition of idle talk and 10-times yearly growth… even in just a few years, she’ll be the head of an organization of tens of thousands…”

Astrid grinned.

“…and she has slums practically overflowing with her future loyalists. She’s already approved of me hiring as many griffons as I can find.”

Red frowned.

“Are you sure? That doesn’t sound like the cautious chick I know. While Tanya might’ve been the best street rat courier in the business, that didn’t come from recklessness. She has a keen eye for the path of least resistance. She never took jobs that sounded too shady or were too overtly illegal. Hiring hundreds of griffons out-of-the-blue would bring a lot of unwanted attention.”

That was probably the trait Red liked most about Tanya. After spending most of her time working with irresponsible Mob Bosses – which were content to spend their time bragging about their accomplishments or planning reckless high-stakes crimes – Tanya was a breath of fresh air. She always prioritized the long-term with only her recent, confusing arrest marring an otherwise perfect record. Even to this day, nogriff seemed to realize that she was a purely self-interested individual with no care at all for politics.

Astid had a look of realization.

“Of course…! The Boss had said something before, but now it all makes sense. She made it absolutely clear that we needed to look like a “harmless” company. We’re supposed to be “apolitical” and focused only on “improving productivity”.”

Red raised an eyebrow.

“And how is anygriff going to buy that when the business grows at an unprecedented pace? It wouldn’t take much searching to realize that Tanya’s planning on taking control of the city, if not the country.”

Astrid grinned.

“That’s my job to figure out, but the Boss hasn’t steered me wrong yet. Her new workplace organizes employees into three categories: the workers who work, the owners who lead, and Griffon Resources which manage. The Boss has obviously taken on the role as leader to bring us into a bright new future, but our new workers from the slums still need management.”

Red gave the chick a knowing look.

“And I guess you are the one to do that?”

Astrid took out a thick binder from her saddlebag and pointed to it.

“It’s not a guess: it’s all outlined in her book. The Head of Griffon Resources is the one in charge of hiring within a company and the Boss has given that role to me. I’m not a stupid chick who needs things spelled out. That’s not how Griffon Resources is supposed to work. The Boss has laid out her vision and I will work to make it a reality. We’ll show those lying adults what us chicks can do!”

Red groaned.

“So long as you remember there are still adults like me out there that supported you along the way. I know the Herzlanders ruined your chickhood, but I remember the time before the war and the Cloudburians weren’t any better. Don’t let your vengeance cloud your-”

Astrid growled.

“I don’t need you to tell me that, Mr.Murdered-my-former-boss!”

She took a moment to calm herself down.

“I’m… grateful – really, I won’t forget what you or any of the other so-called “honest” adults have done – but this is bigger than you, of any of us! This isn’t about my petty grudges. The Boss’ vision will have every chick able to live a life – a real life – without scrounging for food or being spat on and kicked to the curb. I’ll do anything to see that through, but you’ve nothing to worry about. You aren’t going to get in our way.”

With her report finished, Astrid turned and walked out the door.

Red could only sigh. She opened the bottom shelf of her desk and pulled out a bottle of Cloudburian Plum Akvavit – Blommesnaps – and downed a shot as soon as she poured it into a glass. It was, unfortunately, far inferior to the product Cloudbury was once known for; the alcohol which allowed the Plumenjar merchant family to take control of the Duchy and form a dynasty centuries ago. Red had a secret distillery working around-the-clock trying to perfect the old recipe, but it was slow going. Still, it was far superior to the weak Imperial ales and mead the Herzlanders were so fond of. She knew that this would forever be an area of production they would never beat a Cloudburian in.

‘Nothing to worry about, huh? I suppose Astrid’s right. Even if I can’t invest into Tanya’s company with money, the amount of work I’m putting in is sure to keep me in their good books. That said, I would also have nothing to worry about if I simply ratted out on them. I suppose if I was a patriot, warning the political factions of the true nature of Tanya’s business would be the logical thing to do…’

She brought up her glass in the rough direction of the City’s downtown and with a cheer of “Jubel!” drained the glass.

‘Ha! Like I give a damn. Look what patriotism earned Tanya? Stewing in a cage and forced to rely on the good-will of politicians to get her out… I mean, she wasn’t a real patriot, but they didn’t know that. No, Cloudburians have to stick together. If Tanya thinks her plan can earn ourselves a place in our own country again, then I’d be the worst kind of hypocrite to not give her all the support I’ve got.’

As she drank in the dimly-lit office, however, Red could not completely give up on the thoughts she tried to bury. She still had no idea of Tanya’s true intentions. It was true that the chick was no Republican patriot… but she was no Cloudburian patriot either. Yet… nogriff would amass so much power just to fade into the background. There had to be some end-goal, but what?

Red had already been through one revolution. Was she ready for another?





November 8th, 1003 – City Courthouse, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Tanya POV

‘Finally… it’s all over.’

Tanya supposed she should be feeling happy about finally being released from prison – perhaps thankful to the hundreds of griffons that had worked on her behalf to fix the corruption that had her arrested in the first place – but after 7 days and over 100 hours being transferred to-and-from the prison and the courthouse, she just felt relief. The whole situation was rushed, but she could only hope it would be the last time she would ever set paw and claw in a courtroom again.

As soon as she exited the Cloudbury City Courthouse, she was mobbed by the L-NRP. In particular, Ernst Thällgriff swept her up in a hug and had tears in his eyes.

“Thank Eyr you’re alright. You’re never going to be arrested again, you hear me?’

Tanya could not help but roll her eyes at the dramatic display.

“Yes, yes. I’ll remain innocent. It wasn’t like I’d ever done anything illegal in the first place.”

Rikard, Clara and her student-employee Astrid were quick to follow suit: shaking her claw, patting her on the back, and formally bowing respectively. The strange use of Japanese formality was punctuated by her personal, unpleasant, thoughts on other matters.

‘I’ve mixed feelings about a socialist in charge of the city… but perhaps working together with Tobias Sivenhof and the C-NRP will finally mellow out the radical elements.’

Tanya was not hopeful, but that did not change the fact that they helped her, so she kept that to herself. She gave Rikard a wry smile.

“I suppose congratulations are in order Mayor Rikard. While everygriff said you’d won the election, I could hardly believe it. The L-NRP could barely scrape together 20% of the vote when I was arrested.”

Rikard nodded and gestured to Astrid.

“Yes, and I hear I have you to thank partially for that. Between the wedge issue of your arrest and your… employee here, we were able to overcome all of the problems thrown our way.”

Tanya could not help but chuckle.

‘Did he think I’d be impressed by such obvious false-modesty? Like Astrid could have possibly done anything…’

Tanya smiled and did her best not to roll her eyes.

“That’s right, Astrid here mentioned something about that. I’m glad she… helped in some way.”

Astrid seemed to miss her sarcasm. She beamed with a bright smile.

“I was able to help free you! Now you can come back home and teach us all to be productive and valuable citizens again!”

Rikard coughed into a clawed fist.

“As touching as all this is, it has also brought something to my attention. It seems you’ve been planning to make your business “apolitical”. I’ve been led to believe you will work with the capitalists as well as us.”

‘That’s right! I’ll finally be free of you socialists! Finally, I can put my future knowledge to good use without the fear of the rise of a griffon red-fascism. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I inadvertently caused the Republic to make a “Great Leap Forward” with some horrible misunderstanding of Japan’s economic practices.’

Tanya had only worked with the L-NRP out of necessity. What little work she had done for them was only to stave off the L-NRP’s most radical aspects. Now that she was out of prison and had a growing network of capitalist workplaces that were interested in hiring her company as Griffon Resource consultants, she had no reason to stick around.

Of course, that did not mean she would burn bridges. Rikard was the new mayor after all.

“That’s right. Now I don’t want sound ungrateful for all your generosity and support, but I’ll be leaving the party to start my business in earnest. While your party has highlighted a lot of problems that I want to fix in the Republic, I just don’t see how staying in the party can help. Mediating disputes, helping run a factory; everything I’ve done has been things any business could do and I want to share those ideas with everygriff. I hope that by working with capitalists, I can show them a new, better way. While I hate the soc… ahem, I mean… while I hate the capitalists, I’ve seen how they can do better when pushed in the right direction. While you work to make Cloudbury a… better place… I’ll work to make things better one workplace at a time.”

Tanya took out a bound manuscript from a saddlebag.

“I plan on releasing what I’ve learned in the form of this book. Once I’m finished, I hope you’ll consider giving it a read and realizing that you have nothing to fear from me.”

Rikard’s features softened at that.

“I see. While I might not agree on the need for a middle-of-the-road approach, I certainly won’t stop you from trying. I only hope you remember that while you’re no longer an official member of the L-NRP on our payroll, you’re still a socialist. You can be proud of that. No matter what you do, I can rest assured that you’ll be helping this nation become a better, more socialist place.”

Tanya could feel bile rising from her throat, but she was able to keep herself controlled enough to keep a horrified and disgusted expression from showing itself. She could only hope they would think she was just “feeling emotional”.

Thankfully, Astrid seemed to realize something was wrong and was quick to drag her away by a forelimb.

“Come on! Your book is finally finished and now that you’re out of prison we can get it published! Oh I can’t wait to show it to everygriff!”

Tanya chuckled, glad to be pulled away from the conversation. However, before she could finally leave, Clara grabbed her by the withers. She stared into Tanya’s eyes.

“Tanya… I’m sorry we couldn’t help you sooner, but be careful, alright? I know you’ll probably do fine on your own, but we’re here to help you if you need it. Us socialists are used to small differences in opinions dividing us, but we’re all in this together. Don’t try to grow up too fast, okay?”

Ernst was quick to nod his head in agreement.

“If it was up to me, we’d do everything we could to keep the problems of the Republic away from chicks like you, but… it would be grossly hypocritical of me to hold you back when you’re helping so many of your fellow orphans live happy lives.”

Tanya was tired of the theatrics and let herself be pulled away by her employee. However, she quickly yelled back before she got out of hearing so she would have the last word.

“I’m just doing what I’ve always done: proving that compromise and negotiations are not zero-sum games. Contracts and deals are best when everygriff wins. You’ll see! By the time I retire, you won’t even recognize the Republic!”
> 13 - The Season of Giving
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Griffons across the Continent: Belligerent for yet another Blue Moon Festival

Another year has come and gone. With it, another Blue-Moon Festival is celebrated with Griffons across Griffonia more disjointed and isolated from one another as ever before. The Sunstrikers raid and pillage their brothers with impunity, the Griffonian Empire and Kingdom of Aquileia brutally repress their citizens to maintain order, and the rest are content to ignore the emerging crises in Prywhen and Longsword until the growing violence spreads past their borders, as it inevitably will.

Our Republic – with its remote location and weak socio-economic position – is more justified than most in its isolationist policies. However, it cannot claim the moral high-ground. Tensions continue to mount between the Herzlanders and Cloudburians among us and no diplomatic solution to the bandits in the north has been considered for several years now. Even distant relatives of the former Duke remain separated from their families despite their political irrelevance. Truly, a microcosm of Griffons as a whole.

Even the holidays themselves are not immune to political discord. In their speeches, Rikard Astler of the L-NRP focused solely on internal unity between Herzlanders and Cloudburians, and Schnabel Sunglider of the C-NRP focused solely on external unity through a war with the Griffonian Empire. Only President Kemerskai and Heinrich Kingfeather of the R-NRP in their joint address spoke of the true meaning of the holidays, of family and faith. Yet how can they be believed when they have yet to make the day an official work holiday.

Thankfully, the griffons of our nation have not forgotten their traditions. Most we polled plan to spend their time with family, eating scones and drinking warm eggnog around a fire and  ignoring petty politics.

It is the hope of this newspaper and of all pan-griffonians that everygriff try to do some small thing for one another this Blue-Moon Festival. Give some of your extra food or money to a charity near you. Take some time to learn the culture and language of the griffon friends you know. Above all, take this day to pray to Boreas, Eyr, Arcturius and all the minor deities. Reflect on their unity and the lessons of the faith, and use them to motivate within you feelings that can be spread to your local community.

While chaos and war have always been a staple of the griffon way of life, so too are leadership and family. Be a leader and family for your community this holiday season and one day we might look at the griffons around us, not as enemies and strangers, but allies and friends united as one family.

- Article on the front page of the Cloudbury Local Newspaper, Den Uafhængige (4th Week of December 1003 Edition)





November 24th, 1003 – Griffon Resources Co-Op and Orphanage, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Tanya POV

Things had improved over the past few weeks for Tanya’s business cooperative.

With her release from prison, her notoriety had soared to astronomical heights and she used that infamy to leverage good PR for her brand. Her reputation as a negotiator that prevented strikes helped convince the capitalists of her competence while her time working with the L-NRP helped with the socialists. Finally, her lifetime of work was paying off and she would soon reap the rewards she so justly deserved!

That was not enough to make a business successful on its own, but it saved time-consuming and expensive start-up costs. That was vital, as the seed money she had used to open her business was almost completely gone. It meant that – with her employees now working and not utterly failing at their jobs – her cash-flows were now in the black. She needed only to foster a good reputation, gather feedback, and reinvest back into her employees and she would soon be set for life.

The orphans were already cost-effective and motivated, so the next step would be to further hone their skills so that her business would continue to remain competitive. This reinvestment is what motivated herself to spend the past 4 hours pacing in front of her classroom and finishing a lecture.

“…and that is the nature of a government audit. For this reason, it should be clear that your work must be free of political bias and above board. Are there any questions?”

As was normal, there were few questions. Instead, the only sounds being made were Astrid and the other “Directors” at their desks furiously writing into their notebooks. Tanya had been worried, at first, that perhaps she was being too tough on them. These were certainly topics that would have been too much for herself at their age. Yet despite all odds, they seemed to keep up.

‘Obviously I’m no match for the dedicated Japanese teachers and professors that taught me almost everything I know… but maybe it’s my razor-focused approach that makes it work? If I focus only on things necessary to do their jobs – instead of the generalization of a modern universal education – I suppose that the lessons are simple enough that even a novice like myself can teach… Or maybe I have a knack for it?’

With the lesson over, the classroom erupted in a cacophony of action as her orphan-students Board of Directors rearranged their desks in a circle and waited for her to sit down with them. Before she did, they all bowed.

““We give respect to the Boss!””

Tanya grimaced.

‘Do they have to make it sound like I’m an 親分 (oyabun, yakuza leader)… although maybe that’s inevitable since I am their 親分 (oyabun, foster parent). Ha… Although I suppose this is still better than the last few weeks. At least they aren’t wasting hours yelling over one-another trying to prove their “undying loyalty” and their “knowledge of Griffon Resources”.’

She had addressed their unproductive sycophancy in the only way she knew how: falling back on her years of working as a Japanese Salaryman. She made it clear that any praise would be contingent on their performance which would create a hierarchy of respect in the company. She figured that with a strict protocol on how to act – depending on one’s station in comparison to one-another – they would retain a culture of respect while motivating themselves to work harder.

Unfortunately – as with most of her lessons – her students took things further than she would have liked, but there was nothing wrong with that intrinsically. They were overly formal, but that was better than the alternative, so she let them be. She just had to be vigilant and keep things under control. Hopefully they would settle into a more reasonable attitude with time.

Her Japanese sensibilities would not allow her to accept the undeserved and overdone greeting from her employees, and so she bowed her head in return to even the score.

“I am grateful to my Board of Directors.”

They looked ready to give a retort, but Tanya glared at them before they could. Thankfully, it seemed that her work over the past few weeks had paid off and they said nothing. Finally, the start of the meeting did not devolve into an hour of pointless back-and-forth. With them all settled into their respective desks, she started the meeting.

“The Griffon Resources Board Planning Meeting for Week 46 is convened. The minute-taker will be Head of Internal Griffon Resources: Astrid. Hopefully we’ll soon have someone dedicated to the role so we are not wasting the valuable time of our Directors writing things out.”

Astrid typed down the minutes of the meeting on the typewriter in front of her with a big smile on her face.

“Please, take your time Boss. I’m more than happy to record your words for the rest of my life!”

Tanya frowned. It was another strike on a long list of disappointments she was having with her so-called “number 1 fan”. Astrid had been a diligent and capable worker… yet she chose to be Head of Griffon Resources.

‘I tried to explain to her that, despite our work, Head of Griffon Resources was not a valuable position. After all, I didn’t create this company because GR is the most important thing in the world, but merely that it was a key aspect of modern management missing in Republican companies. A niche that could be exploited for short-term profit. Once competitors arrive and the market saturates, it’ll be like any other job. For some reason, that explanation only made Astrid more eager to “prove GR is the best”. Is that the limits of her aspirations? With her capabilities, she should be leading Operations or even demanding the creation of a Chief Operations Officer to match my Chief Executive Officer position. She’s just squandering her potential.’

Tanya sighed. She would not be able to change Astrid’s mind, but at least she could try to reprimand the chick… again.

“Be that as it may, I would like to remind you that the purpose of Griffon Resources is to improve efficiency. If all you want to do is take minutes, you’re free to remove yourself as Head of GR. We all have our likes and dislikes, but the purpose of these meetings is a quick and productive summary of the company agenda for the week. If you are distracted by other things, that will no longer be the case.”

Astrid looked surprised.

“Of- of course! Please forgive me! I’ll be sure to find a suitable replacement by the next meeting, I promise!”

Her meek attitude reminded Tanya of yet another problem: nogriff was challenging her.

“I’m sure you will… That said, I will remind you all that – as a Co-Op – this company is democratic. That means you are not only encouraged but required by the company charter to speak up if there are any problems. Just as voting is your duty as Republican Citizens, criticism and self-improvement are your duties as employees. If any one of you thinks that you can lead this company better than I can, you are free to elect my replacement. We all want this company to succeed, but that can only happen with the best griffons in charge.”

She looked to the other directors and they all appeared to be taking her advice seriously. They were still young and unlikely to be serious competition as her replacement in the short-term, but the last thing she wanted was for them to throw away their ambitions like Astrid. She knew from her time with the L-NRP that most co-ops made it difficult to fire or remove voting members which allowed incompetence and corruption to fester in their ranks.

She would not allow that to happen to her company. She wrote the company charter specifically to avoid that: outlining a three-branch structure with a Board of Directors (Legislative), Griffon Resources Department (Judiciary) and CEO (Executive) emulating a Parliamentary System which allowed the company to hire, fire, promote or demote any member when appropriate evidence is found and procedures followed.

‘By showing how a Co-Op ought to be run, maybe they’ll stop their political nonsense. After all, democratic workplaces like Co-Ops, Partnerships and Credit Unions all functioned perfectly well in a capitalist society despite what the socialists might want to believe. If I can show that their mindset is the issue, I can at least try to deprogram the more moderate socialists back to being normal, productive citizens.’

She grimaced as she remembered the other reason for choosing a cooperative business structure.

‘It’s too easy for top-down businesses to fall into crony capitalism in the Republic. Of course, that’s hardly the fault of capitalism. Without laissez-faire economic policies, a well-regulated stock-exchange, and an honest judiciary, the market in the Republic is not free and ripe for exploitation. Without those fundamental axioms on which modern capitalism is built, it’s impossible for the Chicago School or the Invisible Hand to self-regulate. However, if I can show that there is value in voting-option investment and a Board of Directors checking the power of a corruptible upper management, I might be able to reduce the number of cronies interfering with the market.’

She would do her best to mitigate the harm until the government started doing their job to fix the economy, but it was almost certainly impossible to achieve in practice. It was not like Tanya had any delusions of grandeur, however; it was just a nice goal to work towards. Realistically, she would use her future knowledge to make sensible business decisions while riding the exponential rate of industrial growth. She would be able to retire early on a rich pension even in her conservative estimates, so there was not much point in attempting nation-wide change.

At that reminder of her bright future, she had a smile on her face as she turned to Kurt: a diminutive green griffon and 14-year-old Director of Public Relations.

“Last week, you discussed issues in reaching out to other companies about our standing in the business community. Were you able to speak with company reps in Cloudbury? How does our company look?”

Kurt rocketed out of his seat and nervously shuffled through his papers.

“Y-yes, boss. T-thank you for g-giving me a second chance to prove myself… Um, it seems our PR with the capitalists is, uh, alright? They’re coming to us whenever they have problems, but they’re not eager to work with us full-time. However, our PR with the socialists is great! They heard of your amazing work with the Squark Munitions Plant and everygriff’s hoping we can do that for them too. Unfortunately, uh… I tried convincing them about Griffon Resources – honestly I did! – but they just wouldn’t listen. They want you to make their businesses better without changing anything. Giving them something like those Gauge Blocks, for exmaple. Some of the co-ops have seen the light and taken one of us full-time, but the rest…”

Astrid paused her typing and sneered.

“It’s just like those foolish adults to throw away a path to greatness because they’re blinded by shiny trinkets.”

Tanya sighed and shook her head.

“Remember: the customer is never wrong, especially regarding our image. This is a PR problem-”

Kurt paled.

“I-I-I’m s-so sorry B-Boss! I-”

Tanya tried to calm him down.

“No, no, it’s not your fault either. As with all our issues at the moment, the fault is mine. My reputation is a double-edged sword. To anygriff outside this room, my actions in improving the Squark Munitions Plant or my negotiations with the capitalists were just my own personal skill or luck. They don’t understand that my solutions stem from GR and are teachable. It will be up to us to ensure that our PR continues to improve once we’ve got a proven track-record. I look forward to your future results. Point the biggest complainers my way after the meeting. I’ll see what I can do.”

He bowed to her repeatedly.

“Yes! Of course, Boss! Thank you for helping me! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Tanya groaned. She was about to try explaining again that this was not his fault, but ultimately decided to move on. Just like with Astrid, Tanya was realizing that trying to change the mind of a child was impossible. The best she could do was guide them towards productive ends with her actions.

She turned to Ida, a pink 13-year-old chick. She was the Director of Operations; the position second only to herself. Unlike Astrid, she seemed to have a good head on her shoulders and was productive in ways that mattered. It was Ida’s task to ensure that the company provided a valuable service that companies wanted. If she failed, the company was finished. Tanya gave her counterpart a serious stare proportional to the severity of her job.

“When we left off last week, you mentioned that there were issues with on-boarding our first new batch of employees. I can’t teach every new hire like I had with you Directors. We need effective and scale-able training if we’re ever to remain competitive while we expand.”

Rather than being intimidated, Ida smirked with a haughty expression.

“No more problems to report! With your book printed and given to everygriff, it’s been far easier getting them ready. We should be able to turn any literate orphan like us into employees after just a few weeks instead of a few months like you feared. I’ve even got the 1st draft of the long-term mentorship program started based on our experiences working with the co-ops and Ring Motors over the past few weeks. Between the two, I’m sure we can hire as many griffons as we need!”

‘Of course, there’s no doubt it’ll be harder than all that. It’ll take months to weed-out incompetence… but that’s a lot better than I was expecting.’

Tanya was skeptical that they could already make so much progress in such a short amount of time, but that was the point of these meetings: to hold them accountable. Only after gauging their progress week-after-week against their promises could she filter out the blowhards from the entrepreneurs.

She then talked with the Director of Sales, the Director of Administration, and then the Director of Accounting. At this stage, there was not much those departments were needed for and their jobs were mostly to support the other departments in maintaining and growing the business. With no surprises, she finally landed on Astrid. As the least-important department, Tanya left Griffon Resources to the end of the meeting.

“Astrid… I did not give you any agenda last week, but perhaps you can update us on your status?”

At this point, Tanya had little hope for the chick. Tanya had been giving her less and less work on the expectation she would realize she was being ignored. Tanya had hoped it would re-ignite some of the chick’s former ambition… yet nothing happened. Now, Tanya was just looking for an excuse to demote and replace her with somegriff better. It was not that she felt Astrid could never improve, but without setting some sort of example, her lackadaisical attitude would spread. That was poison for a new company.

Ignorant to her thoughts, Astrid’s face lit up at her question.

“Of course! I must thank you for giving me so much time. Since I’ve already… thoroughly informed all our current employees about your expectations, I’ve focused on developing contacts with the orphanages and the refugee camps on the outskirts of the city. I’m confident that – with our current projections – we can handle the expected 10-times annual expansion of our business with 500 new employees by the end of next month.”

It was only when Astrid finished that Tanya realized she had somehow stood up from her seat and tore small grooves into her desk with her claws. Her eyes widened in panic.

“What?!”

She turned to the other Directors.

“And you agreed with this? Why did none of you bring this up? We only have 32 employees at the moment! Even that has us struggling to maintain profitability!”

Ida – the Director of Operations Tanya had placed so much hope on – actually smiled; like this was anything other than madness!

“But that’s why we’re only hiring orphans like us. We’re used to sleeping in small cots and working only for food and shelter. With my quick training program and my other projects, we can hire as many people as we can and still turn a profit!”

Tanya turned to Kurt, the Director of PR.

“Kurt, you have to see this will never work! We’re having trouble getting companies to sign on our workers!”

Kurt grimaced.

“I know, I know! I’m so, so sorry! I was only able to find 95 businesses that were willing to hire on somegriff, but the 200-or-so I’ve been working with are still hesitant. I’m sure a few quick words from you will change their mind! I’m so glad you’ve volunteered to help! I was at my limit trying to organize something for these new hires to do!”

Tanya felt her understanding of the situation slip.

‘That’s a lot more businesses than I was expecting. I thought we were struggling to find places for our current employees, but they were thinking so far in the future… What’s going on?! We had these meetings every week and this never came up! I thought- I assumed…’

It was only now that she realized she had never asked for hard values. She had assumed that they were working in the limited scope of the projects she had set for them and not going above and beyond. She had been so distracted between her arrest, organizing the company charter, and teaching that she had focused too much on cash-flows and not on the specifics of their work.

Still… something was not right. She turned to Astrid.

“How do you expect this to work? Our profits have hardly changed, yet the amount of money we would need to house and feed 500 new employees is massive.”

Astrid looked to the others and they all nodded.

“We’ve been pooling our salaries together. We should have known you were giving us so much extra money for a reason… but your hint to “use the money on whatever you want” was a bit too vague for us at the time. Sorry it took us so long to realize we love this company and your ideas so much we had to re-invest it. That, and I’ve been working with Red on covering some of the shortfalls with the plan. She said that since she cannot invest in the company directly, it was the least she could do to get involved.”

Tanya felt her heart race.

“Even Red?! I- I don’t understand. Why go behind my back on this? Why would you think I wanted all these new employees?”

Astrid smiled.

“No need to be so humble, this was your plan, right? I know you love to coddle us, but you don’t need to take things so slowly. You were the one that said industry in this country will see an ROI of 1000% or more annually. We can’t possibly compete in that sort of world if we can’t scale up to match and we’ve worked non-stop to see that happen. Red’s also been eager to get involved however she can and together, we’re willing to do anything to see your ambitions come to life!”

Everything finally clicked into place.

‘This is all my fault?! No! I meant that other industries will achieve 1000% growth annually, not us! That’s… that's…’

But as she saw the eager looks on everygriff’s face, she realized she had been cornered.

‘If I turn my back on this plan, what would they think? I’ve been reminding them they could replace me at any time, but that was when I was sure it would be a slow, gradual process! I was expecting to at least be on the Board. If I tell them they just misunderstood – now that they all worked tirelessly and invested their life-savings into the company – they’d riot! Damn it, why did I have to make this company a democracy! They could toss me to the curb and all my investment would be worth nothing!’

Her claws tightened, but she could not lie to herself: this was her fault. She had assumed her employees needed motivation. She had assumed they would come to her for any misunderstandings. She had assumed any hidden agendas would be caught by the sophisticated system she had set up. She had relaxed too much; had put herself into a mindset that things were finally going her way and now that she was part of a proper company, people would act like rational, reasonable beings.

The worst part was they were not wrong. Their plan was aggressive, but it was also possible. They had 100% market share and ruthlessly investing every last Republican Scrip to retain as much of that as possible could see massive growth. 20 years from now, they would either be the most successful business in the Republic, or bankrupt… and after investing all her best ideas into this business, she might not be able to make another one nearly as good as this one.

She gave them an uneasy smile.

“Of course… I can see now that my concern has been… misplaced. Perhaps I have been taking things a bit too slowly. After all, it was my idea to push your ambitions so hard like an idiot. I’ll want to be involved in this project as much as possible, but I’m… glad to see you working so diligently. Keep up the good work…”

The entire Board preened and it took everything in Tanya’s power not to scream.





November 24th, 1003 – Griffon Resources Co-Op and Orphanage, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Astrid POV

Working for the Boss had been the hardest thing Astrid had ever done. From the moment she woke up, to the second she passed out in her bunk-bed 16 hours later, every waking moment was spent working.

Yet it was an improvement over her life on the street. There, she plenty of “free time” but that was just a matter of perspective. That time was spent improving her butterfly knife skills, learning how to pickpocket, finding marks to steal from, or learning which Military Police patrols to avoid. Her life never improved. If there were no good marks entering her turf or Red had no jobs for her, she starved that day. Even on good days, she had to share her haul with her gang or they would starve.

One day she snapped. She went behind Red’s back to rob one of the houses in the richer part of town, but she got caught. She was too young to go to prison, but they made sure that she “would never cause trouble again”. She was beaten within an inch of her life. When she went to Red the next day, black-and-blue and crying, Red just told her “I hope you learned your lesson”.

She had. She had learned that things would never get better.

And then the Boss changed her life. Suddenly, she had clear goals. She could spend the morning getting everygriff working productively, spend the afternoon organizing “orphan transfers” with the orphanages in town, and spend the evening sitting in class learning wonderful new ideas from Tanya herself! In between all of that, her fellow employees would take turns cooking the amazingly simple recipes Tanya taught them: “vegetable soup”, “stuffed dumplings”, “fried potatoes” and more.

Then the lessons grew more complicated and they struggled to learn new things. Some of them thought it was because the Boss was a poor teacher, but she knew better. As they got together in “study groups” after their lessons and pored over what they were taught, Astrid realized that the Boss was just teaching them far more efficiently than before. It was obvious in hindsight. The Boss saw teaching like she saw everything else: from a place far above-and-beyond what anygriff else could see. She had so much knowledge to give, but so little time to give it and so she forced her students to adapt. Everything tied together: little things they learned weeks ago; bits and pieces of socio-economics one of them found in a book; an off-claw remark the Boss had made. The implications startled Astrid.

‘If we can only understand her lessons by working together afterwards… what about her book? What about everything else the Boss has ever said and done? What hidden meanings could I find?!’

Astrid began to decipher the Boss’ seemingly inconsistent behavior: the Boss’ standoffish nature, her claws-off approach to their work, the repeated emphasis on rewarding their accomplishments, and the regular meetings. It all added up to one thing: the Boss wanted them to impress her.

‘But how? That was the one thing missing. Obviously just doing our jobs wouldn’t be enough. There had to be more… what was the Boss’ end goal? What was everything leading towards?’

The answer was obvious: the Boss wanted to save not only them, but every orphan in the Republic. It was what Astrid would do in her place. Otherwise, why would she only hire and train orphans like herself? They would quickly grow in power and lie in wait until the moment was right, then they would seize control of the nation and change it into a place where nogriff like them would ever starve again.

The Boss’ Board Meeting was finished and Astrid typed out the last of the minutes. Not waiting for her to finish, the Boss stood up from her desk.

“I’ve got to go. I have some… important clarifications to make with Red to address some- I- I’ll be back.”

She hardly completed the sentence before the Boss raced out of their Orphanage Co-Op.

Astrid turned to the other Directors.

“With the Board Meeting adjourned, let’s convene our “Post-Meeting Study Session”.”

As with anything involving the Boss, even the weekly Board Meetings required a study session to truly grasp the meaning of what the Boss wanted from them.

Astrid focused a glare at the Director of Public Relations.

“I think after today, nogriff here can deny I wasn’t right all along, right Kurt?”

Kurt sat back in his chair and crossed his forelimbs with a frustrated look on his face. Without the Boss here to make him nervous, he looked as confident as anygriff else.

“I’m not sure. I still think all your talk about there being “hidden meaning” behind what the Boss was doing is a load of nonsense. Even in the meeting today, she seemed upset and angry at us for “going behind her back”.”

Astrid glared.

“And what’s the alternative, huh? That the Boss’ a bad teacher? That she doesn’t have a grand plan in mind? That for all her knowledge and capability, she’s just- just messing around?! She is one of the most popular griffons in the Republic and she’s worked hard for years both as a street rat and in a political party to learn and master Griffon Resources: a concept that stuns even adults like Red. She’s angry because it took us this long. We’ve got undeniable proof now. If this wasn’t her plan, would she be fine with me hiring 500 new orphans?”

Kurt was incensed.

“Fine! I made a mistake, alright?! Obviously she’s no ordinary 12-year-old, but some super-amazing mastermind that could think and understand so far beyond any of us just didn’t make any sense… but whatever. The Boss is the Boss. If she says she’s fine with your plan, I guess you were right.”

Astrid frowned. Despite finally convincing her idiot coworker about the obvious facts, she was not happy.

“It’s still not fast enough. Some orphans are going to die this winter. We won’t be fast enough to save them, but hopefully they’ll be the last. The Boss has shown us a way to save them all!”

Ida tapped at her desk. The Director of Operations had a frown on her face.

“I talked-up my ideas in the meeting, but even a few weeks is a bit too long to train so many… That’s ignoring that most orphans need a lot of on-the-job training. Not only that, but we’ve been picking only the best, most literate ones so far. If we’re going to save them all, we can’t keep going on like this.”

Kurt leaned on his desk.

“That’s an understatement! We’re going too fast! I’m already at my limit with those stupid companies! They just don’t get it. Heck, I don’t get it half the time. We’ll never have enough new clients at this rate.”

Astrid slammed her desk.

“Don’t give me that! The Boss promised to help you out with that and you-”

Kurt slammed his desk in return.

“Well maybe she can’t! Even if she’s some super-genius who plans all these amazing things, adults are stupid! How do you even know she wants to save all of us anyway?! Taking on a few extra orphans doesn’t mean nothing.”

Astrid growled.

“You take that back! Despite how little we deserve it, she bows to us every meeting, she treats us like equals, she spends her valuable time training us despite how much money we’re already making for her. She gave us everything and you think it’s so hard to believe that she wants to do for all orphans like she’s done for us?! She’s known to be a “hero of the Republic”, but it’s clear she’s a hero to us even more.”

She clenched a fist and felt her eyes tearing up.

“You ever go to the refugee camps this time of year, when the frozen wind will kill you in a few hours? I can see it on their faces… there’s no hope. Maybe some of them get enough support from the matrons to get out around our age and join a gang, but the rest… And even with a gang, it isn’t like I’ve never had a sick comrade just… never come back one day. We can stop that. We have to stop that. Even if the Boss might be willing to take it slow – to not trust that we can keep up with her – we have to try.”

They were all silent for a moment. Despite how belligerent Kurt had been, even he had tears welling up in his eyes. He wiped his face.

“I get it, alright? I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it like that, but… can it really work? All these adults pretend to care about helping us all the time, then the next day we’re just trash to them. Now we can just follow a script and force them to do their jobs and suddenly we have money coming out of nowhere. How’s that work?”

Astrid sniffed and cleared her own tears from her eyes. She had a bright smile on her face now.

“That’s the power of Griffon Resources: we can use griffons to make other griffons work better so it is like getting something for nothing. We can transform all the “worthless bottom-feeders” the adults keep telling us we are into “valuable resources”. We can snitch on those incompetent wastes of space to their bosses and fight back against everygriff that keeps trying to put us down. We can prove we are better than them!”

Ida nodded.

“We never have to starve anymore.”

Kurt nodded.

“We’ll do everything we can. We’ll prove to the Boss we’re worth all of her effort.”

With the meeting over, they quickly got back to work.

Astrid quickly typed out the minutes of their impromptu meeting and pulled out the paper from the typewriter. Carefully, she bound them into a binder and gingerly placed them into her locker at the foot of her bed. Inside were a dozen other binders full of scribbled notes of every word the Boss had ever said.

In the center of the locker was a small picture of the Boss that Astrid had sneakily taken when the Boss was not looking. It was one of her rare smiles that seemed to light up the world around it. She was adorable when she was not trying so hard to look mature. It made Astrid want to wrap her up in her wings and protect her from all the horrible things in the world.

Astrid slapped herself and slammed the locker shut.

‘I’ve got a job to do and people to save! O-other things… they, c-can come later!’

She was quick to get back to work, but the blush on her face would stay for a few more minutes.





December 22nd, 1003 – South-River Orphanage, Cloudbury, Griffonian Republic – Gertrude POV

At 58-years-old, Matron Gertrude of the South-River Orphanage was not sure she was cut out for her job anymore.

As the sole caregiver of 24 orphans, her monthly government stipend – her sole source of income – was at its limit. She could not afford to hire extra help, so her bones creaked scrubbing the floors and her joints cracked hanging up the laundry every day on the clotheslines. She would spend any of her dwindling free time trying to stretch her money as far as she could. She visited nearby restaurants, soup kitchens and food banks in the area for any free handouts, but now that winter was upon them, food prices and food scarcity were sky high and there was rarely anything to find.

It was for this reason that she pushed for orphans as young as 12 to leave and get jobs of their own. It started with comments about on how tight things were getting, about how little they had to feed and clothe them, all well within earshot of the little ones. Then – when “they” made a decision to leave – she would make only token resistance to the idea before sending them packing.

It was not that she did not care about them… rather there was no other option. The war in the north “made” orphans at an alarming rate and if she did not find some way to kick out some of the older ones, the younger ones would die on the streets. She had long ago made the choice that she would save as many young lives as she could… but perhaps if she knew the true cost of that decision, she probably would have never even started.

That is not to say she had left those young griffons to fend for themselves. She was not a monster. She put them in touch with the few stable employers willing to take on any cheap labor they could find. Unfortunately, that meant working with Red’s casino and the other gangs in the slums. She knew the casino often had adults “disappear” and that they dealt in drugs and other shady business behind closed doors… yet it was the best chance for an orphan to survive. Even prison was better than the alternative.

‘Why does this happen? So much for the “Republic”. For the weakest and most vulnerable, things have only gotten worse.’

She did not have rose-colored glasses about the Cloudbury Duchy. Griffons as young as 12 would be expected to help their families in the fields and had no chance of ever doing anything else. Chicks as young as 10 would be expected to sew and knit for their families in the wintertime to repair old cloth or make a little extra money. Times were hard and they had been serfs; little better than the draft animals that helped till the fields.

Yet in those times, there was always somegriff that could help when things got bad: a neighbor that would lend out a pound of flour or a bucket of milk if a harvest went poorly; a family could be fully exempt from taxes if they failed to make enough. At the very least, griffons always found a way to feed themselves. Those same griffons now hoarded whatever they got their claws on and isolated themselves from one-another. Half the nation spoke another language. Bandits roamed the countryside. While educated city-dwellers could work well-paying jobs in the new factories, for country-folk like herself, it was a huge step backwards.

*DING DING*

She was in the middle of preparing for dinner when the chime of her doorbell rang out. She moved the pot of lukewarm soup to be half-on the heater of her wood-burning stove to avoid it boiling too quickly. She yelled out “I’ll be there in a second!” while she washed up and had one of her older orphans take care of the kitchen while she answered the door.

She opened the door and looked to see who it was.

“What is it-”

Her heart sank. On the other side of the door was a young black-and-white chick no older than 15. It was the last sort of griffon she wanted to see. No teenager she sent out to work would ever come back to her. They would be too busy surviving and she taught them better than to come for a meal; not when it would mean taking food out of the mouths of younger griffons. No, the only teenagers who would find their way to her were those that lost their only family in an accident at work or in the fighting in the north of the country. With no family to turn to, and no worthwhile skills save for maybe the ability to read-and-write, they would come to her for help.

She looked at the chick with undisguised pity and she found herself gripping the doorhandle with more force than she was used to. She would not be able to keep them here, not for more than a day at most, but she could at least give them a meal, teach them how to take care of themselves and send them towards one of the gangs.

“Hello little one… I’m sure you’ve found yourself in a bit of trouble and-”

The teenager shook her head with a smile.

“You got it all wrong, Matron. I’m here to help you for a change. Mind if I come in?”

Gertrude was hesitant, but there was little to fear. Orphanages were the one business that would never be “hassled” by small-time thugs or the local gangs. She had nothing anygriff would want to steal, yet she was a “source of labor” for the gangs she was affiliated with. It was the sort of combination that earned her complete immunity. Still, she had heard the rumors. Somegriff had been going around to all of the orphanages over the past month but her schedule prevented her from finding out why.

Nevertheless, she would not turn away a chick from her door, no matter their motivations.

“Come in, I’m just finishing getting ready for dinner.”

The chick smiled.

“Of course. Let me know if you need any help.”

The Matron could have used the help, but she did not request it; not when she had no idea what the chick had in store for her or her orphanage.

An hour passed while she cooked the meal and served the soup to the little ones in her care. The adorable baby griffons tumbled over one-another like a flock of chickens going after seeds. Some of the younger ones were messy and she had to wipe them clean with a napkin, but the older ones were more experienced. They sat quietly and ate with their bowls held close to their chests so that not a drop was spilled. During all this, the teenager that had arrived at her door thankfully did not ask for any food and patiently sat in her living room. She read a well-worn book from her saddlebags in quiet indifference.

When the food was finished and Gertrude charged a few of her orphans to tidy up and wash the dishes, she sat across from the teenager and got down to business. She leaned forward and stared at the chick, not letting a hint of her unease show on her face.

“What do you want?”

Closing her book, the chick smiled back at her.

“First, let me introduce myself. I’m Astrid, no last name. I want to say I’m sorry for dropping by unannounced – I know you Matrons are very busy, but I’m in a bit of a rush and couldn’t wait for a better time to visit. As a token of goodwill, let me wish you a happy Blue Moon Festival.”

She had almost forgotten the festival was today. Now things were coming together. Between the last name and her accent, Gertrude was quick to conclude the chick was a former orphan herself, probably part of a good gang if she could act so confident despite her difficult upbringing.

Astrid took out a block of paper and placed in on the table between them. Only when she squinted at the block did she realize what it was: a stack of Republican Scrip. Between the small-denomination-bills in the stack and the regular inflation, the stack was not worth as much as it appeared, but a quick tally in her head confirmed it was a least 20% of what she was given by the government every month. It would not be enough to really change much, but she would not need to cut back on meals and maybe even take on an extra orphan in the spring.

Gertrude’s eyes narrowed.

“How… generous. I suppose because you’re being so generous there are no strings attached? Just felt like giving a bunch of money for charity, huh? Any reason you didn’t donate through the local Eyr church or drop it anonymously in our mailbox?”

Astrid smiled and did not appear at all insulted by her insinuations.

“Of course I want something, but I understand your suspicion. As an ex-orphan, I can promise you this is nothing bad. Rather, think of it as a bunch of us orphans coming together to help out. We’ve come across an amazing new way of doing business that can solve all the problems you’re having.”

She could read between the lines and sighed.

“So you want me to give over some griffons to your new gang? Look, you’ll have to talk to Red first if you-”

Astrid shook her head and gave her a business card and a written note.

“No, no, we’re no gang. We’re a business. You’ll see from that note there that we’ve already talked it over with Red and she’s already bought into the idea. We just expect you to take our money every month and let us teach some extra “life-skills” to the orphans to make their transition to our business nice and smooth.”

That did not sound much worse than what Gertrude was already doing, yet allowing “businessgriffs” – clearly just a cover for their gang – into her orphanage could get her shut down.

“That sounds nice, but-”

Astrid cut her off.

“Please, just look at what our employees look like.”

Astrid gave her a black-and-white photograph. Gertrude paused what she was saying to look at it. It was a group picture of a few dozen young griffons no older than the chick in front of her. In fact, she noticed something familiar about the stern-looking young griffon sitting in the middle-

Gertrude squinted.

“This chick here, she wouldn’t happen to be named Tanya, would she?’

Astrid looked stunned.

“Y-yes, actually… wait, are you saying that this was the orphanage Tanya came from?”

Gertrude breathed a sigh of relief.

“So she’s still alive… you know, she was the youngest griffon I ever allowed leave the orphanage? 10-years-old… Normally I start pushing them to leave around 12 or 13 at the earliest, but I could hardly keep her here. Always had a head full of ideas, that one.”

Astrid gave her a warm smile.

“Then it seems I have two reasons to help you now. She’s my Boss, the griffon who’s given us the chance to help all of our fellow griffons out of this horrible fight for survival.”

She gave Gertrude a pamphlet, she quickly scanned the page to see it detailed a number of strange topics and activities. Astrid gestured to the page.

“That goes over what we plan on doing. I encourage you to go over it and let somegriff at Griffon Resources know if you have any questions. I know it seems too good to be true, but we really do have a plan to make things better; at least… something less shady than the gangs. I’m sure you’re worried about how it might look, but the teachers we’ll be having visit you will be orphans like me. I can’t promise you that we can fix things right away or that you’ll be able to retire anytime soon but… we want to make things right.”

There was a few more minutes of small talk before Astrid bid the Matron farewell and left her alone with her thoughts.

“Matron Gertrude, what’s wrong?”

She looked up to see a few of her orphans staring at her from the doorway to their bedrooms. Only now did she realize her cheeks were wet with tears. It was not that she was particularly sad or happy, rather even the small amount of money Astrid had given her would mean she would not be seeing any of her orphans die this winter.

She wiped her face and got up. It would still be an hour or two before the orphans’ bed time. She looked between them and the money still left on the table.

‘If what Astrid said was true, maybe…’

She smiled at the young griffons.

“How would you like to go visit the Blue-Moon Festival in the market square tonight?”

The little ones looked up with surprise and awe, but the older ones looked concerned.

“You said we wouldn’t be able to go this year. Are you sure?”

She nodded. It was true, normally she would never let them go. The festival was surely great fun, but nogriff would let them enjoy it for free. Between the stalls, games and food, she could feed them for a week for the cost of just one evening at the festival.

“You deserve it for being such good griffons. Come on, I’m sure we’ll all have a great time.”

They cheered and raced to put on their worn-out winter clothing while she helped the really young ones put on their scarves, boots and gloves.

As they raced down the road – but always keeping well within her sight – Gertrude looked up for a moment as the new, mare-less moon rose in the East with a complicated expression. She did not know why she was taking the little ones out to the festival. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision that she would probably regret.

But as she saw the grinning faces of her orphans, she felt something for the first time in years.

“Perhaps next year… things will be different.”