A House Divided

by Treilacl

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Other, Original Character
Length: 8167

Equestria, victories in the field of war, has left the Griffin Kingdom to lick it's wounds and rebuild. But how does a nation rebuild when the nation's leaders plot against each other? A house divided against itself cannot stand.

The Griffin Kingdom was devastated during the recent and failed war with Equestira. Left on their own, the griffins must find their way as they struggle to rebuild their home. With the nation divided between practitioners of the new parliament system and loyalists to the old monarchy, Eriviara Orn Vorastrix, finds herself in a prime position to take advantage of the growing tensions. She's determined to bring the Kingdom to heel, even if she's 'only' a female and, according to many, unfit for anything besides being a 'nest tender.'

This is a tale of the Griffins from the world of Dusk Quill. The events of this story take place directly after the events of The Griffon War: A Soldier's Memoirs.

Published 2013-09-21 00:30:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-07-31 03:45:53 UTC

Prologue: No End in Sight

Prologue: No End in Sight

The killing was done and the war was over!  Soldiers of Equestria milled about the decks of their ships, ecstatic to finally be heading home.  Soldiers chatted happily with their comrades.  They spoke of friends, lovers, and family.  It would take sometime, but they would soon be home.

Behind the Equestrian ships lay the Griffin Kingdom, the source of death and pain for the ponies of Equestria.  The Kingdom was responsible for the war and too many good ponies had been killed by the brutality of war, but at last the killing had ended!  The griffin’s armies had been disbanded, and the griffin’s King had been toppled.  Now the soldiers of Equestria looked ahead, to home and happier times.

*  *  *  *  *

Skyfall lay shattered before the 22nd Royal Legion of the Griffin Kingdom.  Not that the 22nd was much of a Legion anymore.  The Legion was well below half strength, with many of it’s soldiers scattered about Skyfall dead.  The city smoldered and burned as the victorious Equestrian army, the enemy, piled onto their massive warships and left the Kingdom.  As the Equestrians sailed away in victory, the griffins looked about to the grim task of rebuilding their nation.

Eriviara Orn Vorastrix stood facing the sea, the 22nd behind her on the mountainside, the destroyed city of Skyfall and the Equestrian navy lay below them.  From their vantage point Eriviara and the 22nd had seen everything that had transpired that day below them.  Through  a pair of binoculars grasped in her claws, Eriviara watched as the final shots of the war were fired, the last soldiers died a pointless death, and she watched Skyfall burn.  The city that had once been the gateway to the Kingdom now lay shattered, open to the world.  Eriviara watched as the ponies took to their ships and left.

With the enemy off their shores Eriviara turned her steely gaze to what remained of the griffin forces in Skyfall.  The final desperate attempt to destroy the Equestiran army had failed, and now the griffins before Eriviara were all that remained of the garrison force.  Skyfall had been the last stand for the monarchy and they had lost.

Eriviara’s voice cut through the silence. “Secure the city and search for survivors.” Without another word to the soldiers Eriviara turned back to the smoldering city and the Equestrian navy, little more than dots on the horizon. “We have work to do.”

*  *  *  *  *

A spotted griffin scurried through the rubble of the avian city of Asgard, a small note clutched tightly in his right claw.  Glancing about nervously the young griffin paused by an alley for half a heartbeat before rushing ahead.

Behind the little griffin the tiny note he’d grasped fluttered in the air before it was snatched from it’s unfettered flight.  A dark griffin carried his prize from the searching gaze of the sun and fled to the dark shade of an old aerie.  The griffin’s eyes darted about, checking to insure that he was alone before opening the note.

The griffin read the note several times, memorizing it before shredding it.  Clicking his tongue the griffin took a moment to enjoy the silence and sense of calm that pervaded the day.  It wasn’t something that the griffin expected to see again for a long while.  The war with Equestria had ended, but a greater conflict was approaching, and there was no end in sight.  The killing was far from over.

Chapter 1: More to a Female

Chapter 1: More to a Female

The capital city of the Griffin Kingdom, Asgard, was still in the soft morning light.  It was something Nelan had always enjoyed most about the city.  The day was too early for the early risers, and too late for night owls.  To Nelan it was the perfect time of day, when the whole world seemed to hold it’s breath and for once everything was perfect.

Closing his eyes Nelan could pretend the city was whole and complete, not the ravaged mess that it was.  The war with Equestira had ended four or so months ago, but Asgard was still in ruins.  The fighting had been terrible for both sides, but it had been the griffins that suffered the most. When the ponies had left, they left a broken city.  The once mighty gates had been smashed open, laying the city bare to any who cared to enter.  Most of the buildings had been severely damaged and no longer were suitable for use. Many buildings lacked walls and roofs, having been obliterated during the siege.

Nelan stood still with the world for a moment, letting the sun’s rays wash over him.  He missed the countryside where reminders of the war were scarce, and it was moments like this that let him feel like he was, for a moment, back home at Barton Hollow.  He’d been gone from home and his country for almost a decade.  The war had been strenuous on his country, but the city was the hardest to look at.  Even though Nelan had seen this sight upon his arrival a few days ago, it was still heart-rending to see the evidence of lives devastated, buildings turned to rubble.

Ruffling his inky feathers Nelan huffed.  Drawing his mind back into the present he rapped his knuckles on an oaken doorway, the entrance to an estate.  The estate itself had once belonged to an officer of King Alaric.  After the failed war and the death of the officer, his sister, Eriviara, had commandeered the estate.  Soundlessly the door swung open, revealing a large grey griffin.  Nelan tried to not let Fata, his sister’s doorkeeper, intimidate him.  He was Eriviara’s older brother, and couldn’t hurt her anymore than he could chop off his own wing, but that didn’t save him from Fata’s suspicious glower.  Fata didn’t trust anyone, Nelan often wondered if Fata even trusted Eriviara.  A moment passed between the two of them before Nelan spoke,

“Are you going to let me in?” he asked his tail flicking irritably.

“I’m not stopping you,” she replied through her thick accent, even as she remained in the doorway.  Nelan paused for a moment before stepping forward to squeeze past into the stone building.  Fata closed the door, nipping Nelan’s tail as he slipped by.  “She’s meeting vith Lord Gallar. They’re in zee office.”  Nelan nodded his head absently affirming that he’d heard and understood the message as he glanced about the foyer.  The room was nothing extravagant. There were no wall hangings or golden statues.  Nothing to flaunt her wealth, not that the family or Eriviara were terribly rich to begin with.

Nelan wandered through the mansion’s winding hallways to his sister’s office, his claws clicking on the stony floor, echoing off the empty halls.  Glancing down hallways Nelan found Eriviara’s headquarters in Asgard were strangely empty.  Each day there seemed to be fewer and fewer griffins traipsing the halls.  At first Nelan had assumed the griffins were abandoning his sister.  However, when pressed Eriviara had only answered Nelan with a, “Don’t worry about it.”  Nelan shrugged at the memory, if Eriviara wasn’t concerned then Nelan didn’t see any point in worrying himself over it.  Nelan’s mind drifted back to his current goal, as he turned a corner Eriviara’s office door came into view at the end of the long hall.

Nelan tried to keep his wings from twitching from irritability.  He’d been in the capital for three days and while he’d managed to greet Eriviara they hadn’t had a moment to truly talk.  Nelan had hoped he’d find a moment of free time in the early morning before Eriviara was called away to do...whatever it was that she did.  He still hadn’t been able to ask her what was consuming so much of her time.  That had been one of the questions he’d been hoping to ask. However, if Eriviara was dealing with a Lord then Nelan would likely get only a few minutes.  Heaving a sigh Nelan resigned himself to taking what he could get.

As he approached the downstairs office, the door swung open, revealing a charcoal colored griffin besides Eriviara.  The dark griffin could only be Lord Gallar.

Wow, he’s huge.

Nelan’s mind buzzed at the sight of the large griffin who towered over the two siblings.  Gallar’s eyes flicked to Nelan for a moment before switching back to Eriviara.

“So we’re in agreement then?” Gallar asked Eriviara, his voice laced with contempt. The Lord had little patience for a female playing at war, but for the moment he played along.  Heaving a sigh Eriviara waved the Lord out of her office.

“Yes, yes.  I’ll make the arrangements.”

“Good,” grunted Gallar. “I can’t stand by and let these disgusting attacks against me go unpunished!”  With a flurry the boisterous lord was gone, leaving Nelan alone with his sibling.

“Idiot,” mumbled Eriviara.  Glancing down the hall Eriviara motioned for Nelan to join her, adding, “shut the door.”  Doing as he was bid Nelan shut the heavy door before taking a moment to examine the room.  It was, in all honesty, what he would have expected of his sister; efficient and simple.  There wasn’t anything in the room that didn’t need to be there: a desk, two chairs, books, scattered papers, and maps.  There were maps everywhere, three that he could see on Eriviara’s desk, another on the wall, the floor, dozens of maps rolled up in neat piles, and even more that were haphazardly thrown together.

“I see you still like to keep your eye on the world,” Nelan said as his gaze lingered on the world map laid out across the stone floor.  Tiny notes were scribbled all over it with pins and string stretching from one point to another.

“Hmm?  Oh, yes, it helps me organize things.”  Glancing back at his sister Nelan found her scribbling on a scrap of paper.

“So, what was that about?” Nelan asked casually.  He doubted his sister would tell him. She had always loved her secrets, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.  Much to his own surprise she answered.

“Oh, he’s pissed about nothing.  Nothing new there,” she said shaking her head in disgust. “All he can think about is how much money this, conflict is costing him, and affecting his lofty ambitions.”  Nelan blinked more than a little confused.

“Conflict?  With whom?” The only conflict that came to mind was the disastrous war with Equestira and that had ended months ago.

“With ourselves,” Eriviara said heaving another sigh.  “Ever since the Equestrians left with the parliament they installed and approved, the country has been politically frozen.  You have the royalists, or loyalists as they call themselves, griffins wishing to reinstate a monarchy, on one side and on the other you have ‘parlies’, griffins demanding that we keep parliament.  Both sides are at each other’s throats, both in parliament and out.  There have been threats, bombings, assassinations, small firefights between loyalist and parlies, and other acts of terrorism.  Each side is trying to cow the other into submission.”

Eriviara’s eyes flicked back to her desk and a loose stack of papers.  Picking one up she scanned it before her eyes returned to her brother.  “Here’s a report about a bombing last week, one killed and three others injured.  The target was a bakery, not a politician or bureaucrat, a baker.  He was targeted because he liked the idea that the country wasn’t ruled by the whim of a single griffin.  He liked the idea of a parliament, so he was killed.”  Eriviara let out a disgusted snort. “And here,” she said pulling out another report, “is one where a griffin wrote a letter to a friend in Learsi complaining about the lack of stability since the monarch was ousted at the end of the war.  Unfortunately for him, the mail system isn’t private these days and his letter became public knowledge.  He was shot four days later.”

Nelan stood motionless for a moment, letting the weight of his sister’s words set.  Nelan hadn’t been in the kingdom long, and had yet to see the chaos his sister described.  However, he didn’t doubt Eriviara’s words.  All this conflict and death, because everyone wanted to run the nation their way, while griffins like Gallar were more upset with their shrinking wealth.

“So what specifically in the conflict is costing Gallar money?”  Nelan asked hoping to get a better understanding of the situation.

“Many of his assets have been attacked and damaged, but the biggest loss to his wealth is the lack of trade with foreign nations.  His wealth has always relied heavily on trade with other countries.  However, since the end of the war the country hasn’t been stable...” Eriviara trailed off letting Nelan finish the thought himself.

“And without any stability even our closest allies wouldn’t wish to do business.”  It was no wonder that Gallar was unhappy with the lack of stability. If his family's wealth came from what limited trade the kingdom could garner with foreign nations then Gallar would be looking at emptying coffers.

“So...why is he coming to you?” Nelan was certain Eriviara would berate him for suggesting that she couldn’t be of use to Gallar, Lord Gallar. However, what he hadn’t been expecting was his sister to crack a grin and laugh.  It wasn’t a full belly laugh, just a light chuckle, but to Nelan she might as well have given a full throated guffaw.  Eriviara had always been more reserved of the two of them.  To hear her laughing now, even a fleeting chuckle, was uncommon.

“I guess you haven’t been keeping up with current events have you dear brother?”

“What are you talking about?” he asked slightly bemused.  “I’ve been keeping abreast of everything while I was in Learsi.”

“Maybe you did as well as you could have,” a cocksure grin slowly began to grow on Eriviara’s face.  “However, I think you’ll find that you missed a number of things.  A number of important things.”

Nelan paused for a moment, his sister’s growing amusement causing him some wonder.  He knew she was enjoying lording her knowledge over him while it lasted.  He’d often done the same to her when they were hatchlings.

“Okay, okay I give,” he said admitting her triumph.  “You know more than me. Will you now please tell me what you’ve got that has a lord making house calls?”

“Oh alright,” she said as she lorded her superiority over him.  Nelan had forgotten just how competitive his sister could get.  “Shortly before the war I left the Mistweavers to join the Gemiehe.”  Eriviara held up a claw, cutting Nelan off before he could unleash a barrage of questions.  “At the end of the war I took control of what remained of the organization and have rebuilt it. Gallar needs me.”

Nelan stared blankly at Eriviara as his mind caught up with his ears.  The Gemiehe was the secret police of the Kingdom.  For generations they had protected the monarchy and insured that no internal threat arose.  When King Alaric was dethroned by the Equestrians Nelan had assumed that the group had either been disbanded or destroyed.  Discovering that they were still in operation, and run by his sister no less, was bewildering.

“You? How...” Nelan’s beak open and closed it again.  Eriviara sat back and delighted in watching Nelan try to comprehend how his sister had managed to become in charge of one of the key elements of the old monarchy.  That Eriviara was female was troubling enough. The Gemiehe had been made of loyalists.  Nelan doubted that any of the old royals would have considered allowing a female to do something so important or involved with conflict of any kind.

If the Gemiehe had been full of northerns or the griffins from Skyfall, Nelan could more easily believe that Eriviara was in charge.  The Northerns came from the clan tradition, where matriarchal roles were accepted.  However, deep sexism ran through the rest of the kingdom, and particularly in the Gemiehe.  Eriviara’s news was mind boggling.

“I’ll answer your questions in time brother.  Meanwhile there are other things that I must attend to.  Our esteemed visitor, has demanded answers on the latest attack against him and now I must provide them.”  Eriviara rolled her eyes and snorted in contempt. As if I didn't already have them.  Not that Lord Gallar needs to know that-she thought. “While I’m attending to Gallar’s demands I need you to begin packing.”

“Packing?” Nelan took a step back in surprise.  He had been here only a few days.  He’d hoped to help restore the Royal Archives and library, and maybe do a little tinkering on the side.

“I’m relocating west and I don’t want you to remain in Asgard, especially now.  It’s...” Eriviara paused, a flicker of concern flashed across her eyes. “It isn’t safe, especially for you.”

Nelan’s shock and disappointment gave way to a flood of warmth.  Eriviara was still his sister.  Ten years and she still protected him.  “Where am I headed?” he asked accepting his fate.  If Eriviara decided he was going to leave Asgard there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

Eriviara locked her eyes with Nelan’s own, her eyes glimmered and crinkled into a warm smile, “Barton Hollow. Home.”

*  *  *  *  *

“Prime Minister?”  The voice drew Calack from his musings.

“Yes,” he asked, his normally chipper voice tempered with wear.  Ever since the end of the war, life in the Griffin Kingdom had been tense and strained.  However, the past few weeks had been the worst.  Stability was decreasing at an alarming rate, and Calack’s fear that civil war would break out grew daily.  “Yes,” he asked again finally turning his full attention to his secretary.

“Sir, I was told to tell you, ‘Queen to Queen side. Gates are barred.’ I assume that means something to you?” The young secretary promptly found himself the center of Calack’s full attention. The young griffin shifted uncomfortably under the elder’s gaze.

“You’re sure the message was, ‘Queen to Queen’s side?’ Not, ‘Queen to Rook?’”

“Umm, yeah.” The secretary shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, is it important sir?”

Prime Minister Calack studied his young secretary for a long moment, noting the earthy colors that the griffin sported.  Trusting anyone these days was dangerous. Calack hated the paranoia that was engulfing the nation, that was invading him as well.  However, it was necessary and unavoidable.

“You’re name is Cricket, correct?” Calack asked.  His secretary flinched at the name.

“Yes, sir.”

“But you don’t like it?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not?”  Calack leaned in clasping his front claws together, interested in Cricket’s answer.  The youthful griffin looked up at Calack before glancing at the floor and mumbled something inaudible.  “Speak up please. Answer me, not the floor.”

Blushing furiously Cricket raised his eyes to meet the Prime Minister’s own.  “It’s a female’s name, sir.”

“Ah,” Calack leaned back in his chair.  He’d expected the answer, sadly.  Cricket wasn’t a common name to begin with, but it had been exclusively female.  Calack studied his secretary for another drawn out moment.  “What’s wrong with a feminine name?”

Cricket gazed up at Calack. The Prime Minister could only guess what his secretary was thinking; likely something close to, ‘is the Prime Minister senile?’

“Sir?  It’s a griffinette’s name,” he said as if that explained everything.  “Griffinettes are weaker, they can’t handle the things a griffin can.  They’re egg pushers, nest tenders.”

Calack raised an eyebrow as he gently shook his heads. “I think you’ll soon find that there’s more to a female than being a nest tender.”  Calack paused in thought.  Glancing out a nearby window he was greeted to a spectacular view, the sky blushing, a new dawn, a new day, and a new world.

“Queen to Queen’s side?” Calack asked again.

“Uh, yes sir.  It’s a chess piece right?  Queen to Queen is referring to a chess match?” asked Cricket.  The Prime Minister was silent for a moment before speaking again.

“I think you’ll find that there’s more to femininity than pushing eggs or tending nests.  Someday you may find yourself encountering a Queen.”

*  *  *  *  *

The sun’s morning rays found Lord Gallar safe in his family’s age old aerie high above the city of Asgard.  The city had been the pride of the Kingdom for generations, but not to Gallar.  Griffins belonged in the cliffs high above the ‘ground crawlers’ below.

“Father,” a young voice called out to the aging griffin. Turning about Gallar found himself facing his youngest son.  The fledgling griffin shifted nervously before the imposing griffin.

“Yes?” Gallar asked arching an eyebrow.  “What is it Cathar?”

“I-I... er, nothing.”  The nestling scampered away from the aerie’s edge and retreated further into the mountain side.  Cathar was a strange child, thought Gallar.  The child was far too small for his age, was far too timid, and to top it off Gallar was certain that Cathar was scared of heights!  The idea was preposterous!  What griffin was scared of heights!

Gallar snorted before putting thoughts of his youngest aside.  He would deal with those issues late.  Now he had more important issues to deal with.  Gallar turned his gaze back towards Asgard as he waited impatiently for his servants to return.  Once Gallar had left the Gemiehe’s HQ and the harpy that held their leash, he’d sent out a call to his own officers.  Lady Eriviara was moving far too slowly, exactly what Gallar would expect of a female; too timid to take real action.

The moments ticked by slowly for Gallar, his eyes never leaving the capital city.  Behind him he heard a faint scuffling as Cathar moved about the inner parts of the aerie, or maybe that was the maid.  It didn’t matter to Gallar either way, so long as neither of them bothered him.  Not that he expected the maid to do anything so foolish.  She knew her place in life, and didn’t try to change what nature intended.  Gallar’s thoughts were interrupted when he noticed a small pack of griffins flying toward his location.

“Finally,” he grunted.  Despite his determination to move things along Gallar was forced to wait for several minutes longer for the griffins to reach the landing.  With light thuds, half a dozen male griffins, landed around Lord Gallar.  Each griffin wore a grey uniform with a golden braid running along their right fore claw.  Folding their wings, each griffin turned their eyes to Gallar and bowed their heads respectfully.

“Is it time to make our move?  I’m getting sick of dealing with the Gemiehe.”  Gallar turned his head lazily to face the outspoken griffin.

“Not just yet Commander.  Major Flint, do you have the reports I asked for?” Major Flint snapped a salute before striding forward.  In one fluid motion he brought forward a small envelope.

“I do sire,” Major Flint’s voice reverberated softly just reaching Gallar’s ears.  “The army has reformed into legions without incident.  The Equestrian ‘disbanding’ of the royal army simply scattered the griffins. It was only a matter of regrouping.  However, the army is as divided and split as the government below its unified surface.  The army isn’t made up of loyalists as it once was.”  Flint trailed off, his eyes swept the room untrusting. “And traitors are abound.”

“I suspected as much,” Gallar grunted.  “Everyone is picking sides, and few seem to remember the meaning of honor.”  Gallar tore the envelope open and began leafing through the reports.  “Do you have anything else Major?”

“No sire.”

“Very well.  Commander.” Gallar looked up from the papers to turn to face the griffin who’d called for action earlier.

“Yes, sire?” The griffin stepped forward, his attention locked on Gallar.

“It has come to my attention that your loyalties do not remain with me.” Two griffins flanking the young commander drew their side arms while the Commander’s eyes snapped wide in shock and fear. “While I appreciate that you brought your soldiers into the royal fold, I’m afraid I can’t ignore that you’ve also been feeding information to the Prime Minister.”

“W-what?  L-Lord-”

“I don’t really care what you were offered or what your excuses are.  You’ve become far more trouble than you’re worth.  Commander, you’re relieved of command.”  The two officers behind the unfortunate commander leapt forward, grasping the griffin by his wings.  The Commander struggled, his muscles straining against his captors, but he remained firmly in place.

Gallar nodded to the officers on top of the griffin, sealing the Commander's fate.  With a low growl the two griffins savagely twisted the Commander's wings.  With a loud crack, both wings bent into unnatural angles.  The young griffin screeched in pain as agony burned through his backside.

Satisfied that the traitors wings were thoroughly useless the two officers dragged him towards the aerie’s opening and to the gaping sky beyond. Realizing his fate the young officer struggled feebly against his captors.  With a casual toss the two officer’s overcame the traitor's struggles and cast him into the sky.

Chapter 2: Matters of Trust

Chapter 2: Matters of Trust

Stars twinkled merrily in the heavens above.  Their speckled light covered the Kingdom in a gentle blanket.  Hidden beneath the foliage of the western forests Eriviara and her troop rested.  They had spent nearly a fortnight traveling westward through the rolling hills surrounding Asgard, across the canyon river Rhine, which split the Kingdom in two, and into the forested north-western region.

        The company now spent their final night of travel resting in the comforting embrace of the forest.  Sentries remained vigilant as they watched over their sleeping comrades.  Hidden by the forest’s vegetation from prying eyes and guarded by their friends the majority of the party had let sleep overtake them.  Only Eriviara and the sentries remained awake.

Staring at the dying embers of the campfire the light flickered in Eriviara’s eyes.  For once she sat still and calm.  The usual strains and qualms pushed from her mind.  Focusing on patient and steady breathing, Eriviara meditated.

        Insuring her own sanity Eriviara had begun meditating shortly after taking control of Skyfall.  Without taking time to refocus her thoughts Eriviara wondered how long she’d have lasted without cracking under the pressure of leadership.  There was always something for her to do.  Even when her body was still, her mind was hurtling forward at top speeds: rooting out spies, planting her own, supplying her officers and the 22nd Legion, coordinating raids against royalists, spreading rumors, planning a dozen moves ahead everyone else, while, of course, protecting her followers.

        Eriviara’s emerald eyes glittered in the dying light, flickering to her brother.  The focus and calm of her meditation wavered.  Her brother, Nelan, was only one of thousands that Eriviara protected.  She protected her Gemiehe officers and agents, loyal soldiers, northern griffins, and all of Skyfall.  Eriviara ran half a nation and she did it alone.

        Her officers helped as they could, of course, but when it came down to the final feather Eriviara made the call.  She couldn’t afford to make mistakes.  Her followers couldn’t afford for her to make mistakes.

        Exhaling slowly, Eriviara pushed the troubles from her mind, reasserting the sense of calm she’d established.  Free of anxiety Eriviara opened herself to her surroundings.  She fanned her focus, letting the world come to her.

        For a moment she saw the world around her with perfect clarity, far beyond what her senses normally allowed her to see.  The full moon cast an eerie pale light over the small campsight.  A silent breeze kissed the trees, creating a muted rustle among the leaves.  Dying embers glowed in the center of the campsite emanating warmth against the nip of the night.

        Huddled about in small clumps for warmth were a dozen griffins, their breath leaving misty trails in the chilled air.  The griffins on watch hid themselves about the perimeter, totally invisible.  Eriviara couldn’t see them, but she knew and felt their location.

        For half a moment she sensed it all, and then a stray thought entered Eriviara’s mind breaking her focus.  Suddenly she was back a decade, as a youngling yearning to become a Mistweaver.

Is that how they go through life? Like a glass wall the sense of calm Eriviara had established shattered, cracking and scattering to the wind.  A wave of emotions, facts, and figures rushed forward to swallow her.  Releasing an irritated sigh Eriviara let the deep meditation flitter away.

        She’d given up on meditation and many of the Mistweaver’s teachings when she ran away, determined to become a Gemiehe officer.  After abandoning the Order, the historic teachers and leaders of Eriviara’s clan, she’d left many of their practices by the wayside.  However, as time and experience wore upon her, she’d returned to many of the practices she’d left, meditation being one of them.

The war had been unkind to the Order, though it hadn’t been the Equestrians that nearly destroyed the Mistweavers.  It had been Eriviara. The sting of her actions festered under Eriviara’s feathers.

        “He should have kept quiet and let the war pass,” Eriviara mumbled under her breath.

        “Thinking about Mistweaver Releck again?” At the abrupt intrusion Eriviara’s claws whipped to her belt seizing her side arm.  Snapping her head towards the voice she blinked, her eyes clasping onto Meriar, one of Eriviara’s trusted Gemiehe officers.

        Meriar’s eyes flicked to Eriviara’s claws before pulling back to Eriviara. “Agonizing over his arrest does you no good.  Stop letting it ruffle your feathers.”

         “We both know the issue is more complicated than a simple arrest, Meriar.”

        Meriar dipped her head in acknowledgement.  “Perhaps, my Lady.  But the resolution is the same.  It’s the same old dance.  Stop distracting yourself with the past.”

        Eriviara grimaced.  She knew Meriar was right.  Ever since Eriviara had taken command she’d had become paranoid, and brooded over minute errors.  With royalists seeking her removal and the parlies sitting on their tail feathers, Erivara couldn’t make a single misstep.  Trusting the wrong griffin or moving at the wrong time could have disastrous results, and Erivara had no intentions ending up dead or joining Releck in Veglede Tor’s murky cells as a traitor.

        “You’re right, Meriar,” said Eriviara vocally admitting the point.  “I simply hate feeling helpless.”  Erivara’s eyes flared with a sudden zeal, a feral grin splitting her features.  “Though I suppose I should know better.”

        Meriar shared her Lady’s predatory grin, the fire’s dying light glinting off a pair of goggles dangling about her neck. “Full moon tonight,” her eyes flicked up to the night’s sky before returning to Eriviara. “I’m looking forward to the moonless hunt.”

        “The sentiment is shared,” the emerald in Eriviara’s eyes gleamed in the moonlight.  She turned her thoughts to the present and future.  “Once we’ve returned to Barton Hollow, contact the commanders’ of the 22nd.  They’ll be in route from Skyfall, and should be half a day south of us.  I want to meet before breakfast.”  Eriviara’s earlier sense of peace and calm were replaced by adrenaline and anticipation of the hunt. “We have work to do Meriar.”

*  *  *  *  *

        The day passed far too slowly for Eriviara’s liking.  Finishing the journey home took little enough time.  Unfortunately, the 22nd officers arrived late, delaying Eriviara by several hours.  The inefficiency irked Eriviara, but she was a huntress; she could wait.

        Despite the delay of the 22nd, Erivara sat behind her desk before all seven of her commanders by noon.  Two were typical soldiers, but the rest were Gemiehe.  Eriviara trusted everyone in the room, as much as she trusted anyone anymore.  The two officers of the 22nd Legion stood to her right, each wearing faded ebony uniforms, silver feather pins along their necklines, illustrating their rank.  Meriar stood between Eriviara and the 22nd officers. The rest of the Germiehe stood scattered about her office.  Casting her gaze about the room Eriviara took note of everyone as they waited for her to speak.

        Eviviara turned to her left “Agent Glix, your report?”  Eriviara’s voice spiked with energy.

        A charcoal speckled griffin slipped forward, light glinting off his glasses.  “My lady,” he spoke softly, his eyes flicked around the room, acknowledging the other officers as he bowed his head in respect toward his commander.  Fiddling with his glasses he turned his attention back to Eriviara.

        “I have received word that Lord Gallar has begun accelerating his plans.  The continued harassment of his assets, and the attempts on his life, have whittled away what little patience he has.  The Legions loyal to him have begun amassing, and it won’t be long before he makes his move on the parliament.”

        “I assume parliament remains oblivious?”

        “Of course,” snorted the Gemiehe agent.  “Gallar could have his legions occupy the capitol, kick open the doors, and those morons would remain blind to his ambitions.”  Eriviara clicked her beak as calculations tore through her mind.

        “If Gallar is accelerating then so must we,” she said scratching her beak. “The raids on Gallar’s assets have done what they were intended to do, but we have no further need of them.  Agent Glix?”

        “Yes, ma’am?” the charcoal griffin asked.

        “Finish the renegade Gemiehe.  If we’re to operate freely throughout the nation we must ensure that the only Gemiehe in operation are our own.”  Eriviara pulled a bland vanilla folder from her desk and handed it to Agent Glix.  “Find them.  Kill them.”

        Glix clasped the folder tightly in his claws, dipping his head towards Eriviara before stepping back into the room’s shadows.  With her orders given Eriviara turned to the other griffins in the room.

        “Meriar, any word from the mainland?”

        “I’m afraid not my Lady,”  Meriar’s eyes crinkled into a frown.  “Our agents are behind schedule, though not terribly so.”

        “Nothing from our officers in Equestria?”

        “None, though it’s unlikely that we’ll hear from them for another month or two.  Captain Trejir is wary.  He’ll take his time to insure that he and his team pass through Equestria unnoticed.”

        Eriviara exhaled slowly, releasing the tightening muscles along her neck and wings.  She was desperate for news, but she’d chosen Captain Trejir because she knew the Gemiehe captain would play it safe.  Trejir was there to find allies, not make enemies.  The last thing Eriviara wanted was to have Equestria storming the Kingdom’s beaches months after the previous war.

        “It seems we’ll have to proceed alone then.  General Greyleck,” Eriviara turned to the 22nd Legion’s commanding officer.  “Fill the garrison at Skyfall, and secure the port.  We can’t afford to allow the royalists any outside help.”  Greyleck and nodded as he mentally began moving resources about the country to achieve these ends. Sealing the port would require the majority of the 22nd Legion, and that required food, weapons, and ammunition.

        “Meriar,” said Eriviara turning her attention back to the female Gemiehe.  “Will the Gemiehe be ready for the next moonless night?”

        “The Gemiehe are ready,” Meriar said softly, the eager edge to her voice faint.  “The new helms Dr. Haber has been working on are ahead of schedule.  Not only will the new helms be ready, but we should have enough for a full strike team by the moonless.”  Eriviara’s eyes flashed in excitement at the good news.

        “Glad to see the crazy scientist’s work is still exemplary.  We’ll need his talents,” pausing for a moment Eriviara’s gaze swept through the dark room.  “Make no mistake; war is coming.  Gallar will not rest until he has secured the throne.  He will sacrifice any piece to achieve victory.”  Her gaze swept through the room again before she continued.  “General Greyleck, do you have an update on Em’dar?”  Pulling a map of the local region on her desk, Eriviara’s eyes fixated on the beige officer.

        “My Lady,” the older griffin inclining his head, speaking with reverence.  “The former Gemiehe outpost has been expanded and fortified.  However, Em’dar’s new fortifications are not complete.  But it’s now capable of withstanding an attack.  In a couple of months it’ll be finished.”

        “Excellent,” Eriviara turned her attention back to the map before her.  “From Em’dar and Barton Hollow we can secure the northern provinces, from Skyfall the western.”  Eriviara leaned over the map, her claws marking out invisible lines: starting from the old Gemiehe outpost in the northern mountains, moving along the Rhine, the river that split the kingdom, and curving towards the city of Skyfall, the gateway to the ocean.  Eriviara effectively cut the kingdom in two.

        “My Lady,” Eriviara raised her head, her eyes turning to the other 22nd officer.  The young griffin shifted his wings nervously under her steely gaze.

        “Yes, Colonel Etare?” opening his beak to speak Etare found the words caught in his throat.  He wasn’t sure what was more surprising, that he’d dared to speak up or that Lady Eriviara Orn Vorastrix knew his name.  Etare had followed Lady Eriviara faithfully ever since she’d saved the 22nd Legion at the final battle of Skyfall.  He’d been a junior officer then-but now he stood as a member of her inner council.  He still wasn’t sure how he’d gotten here.  Gathering his wits Etare took a breath, steadying himself, before speaking.

        “It’s just that we don’t have enough griffins to control that much territory,”  Etare felt his temperature spike as the Gemiehe agents and officers turned to regard him.  Eriviara considered the young griffin for a moment before speaking.

        “General Greyleck your latest report on the 22nd Legion was that it’s back to it’s post-war strength, correct?”

        “That is correct, my lady.”

        “And the newly formed 20th is just over half strength?”  As Eriviara spoke her searching gaze never wavered from Etare.

        “That is correct, my Lady.”

        “About fifteen hundred griffins, if we count the Gemiehe officers.  Greyleck, is Colonel Etare correct in his assessment?  Do we lack the numbers to control the western and northern half of the country?”  Receiving no immediate reply Eriviara tore her gaze from Etare.  “General?  Do we have the numbers?”

        “No, my Lady.  Mathematically it isn’t possible to hold.”

        “Oh?”  A carnivorous grin plastered itself across Eriviara’s face.

        “Agent Glix, can we hold?”

        “Not according to the numbers.”  A smirk tugged at Glix’s eyes.

        “Meriar, can we hold?”  Eriviara’s gaze remained undeterred.

        “Mathematically?” ask Meriar, sharing the same raptorial grin as Eriviara.  “Not if we stick by the rules.”

         “Good thing I don’t play by the rules then.”  Quiet chuckles emanated from the other Gemiehe officers.  Eriviara returned her attention back to Etare.  “There’s your answer Colonel.  I’m changing the math.”  Eriviara paused for a moment, continuing to examine Etare.  Nodding once to herself Eriviara turned back to the rest of the room.  “You know your duties.  See to them.  Meriar, could you stay a minute?”

        Summarily dismissed Eriviara’s commanders began to file out of her office one by one, until only Eriviara and Meriar remained.  The two griffinettes remained silent and motionless until the door closed behind General Greyleck with a soft thump.

        Meriar stood patiently, her attention never drifting from Eriviara.  Meriar waited for Eriviara to speak.  As the seconds stretched into minutes Meriar could sense Eriviara’s unease grow.  Meriar found herself perplexed at the abrupt change in Eriviara.  The shift from proud and confident to anxious and restless had been palpable.  Quirking her head Meriar brought herself to break the reigning silence.

        “My Lady what do you need of me?”

        “I need you to keep an eye on Nelan.”  Eriviara spoke slowly, the words seemingly forced from her beak.  “I love him, but…” her words trailed before returning with conviction.  “But I can’t afford to trust anyone.  Not even him.”

        Meriar dipped her beak in understanding.  “Aye, ma’am.  I understand.  Anything else?”

        Eriviara’s emotions flared:  “Keep him safe.”

        Bowing before Eriviara Meriar slipped out of the shaded office, leaving Lady Orn Vorastrix surrounded by shadows.  The door closed with a soft thud, and Eriviara’s final words echoed about her.  “I can’t afford to trust anyone.”

* * * * *

        While Erivara surrounded herself with her followers, her brother, Nelan, explored his old home, slowly.  Nelan’s wings throbbed in pain and his feet ached with each step.  Eriviara had set a brutal pace to arrive in Barton Hallow early.  Before a trace of pink appeared in the morning sky, the griffins had set out, flying over the forested north.

        The hard flight left Nelan exhausted.  His body slumped, each step took far too much effort for his taste.  He was a scholar, not a marathon flyer.  He’d struggled to keep pace with the rest of the group, but he’d succeed in keeping up.  It was a minor feat, but it left some pride in his beating heart.

        Free from his little sister’s tyrannical journey Nelan found himself alone.  Once the small troupe had entered Barton Hollow Eriviara had cloistered herself in father’s old den-now her office-with her band.  Finding himself alone and with ample time to spend, Nelan explored his old home.

        The old stone building was by far the largest building in Barton Hollow and it lay on the highest hill, but it was far too small to truly tower over the rest of the village.  Rather, it benignly overlooked the cloister of homes called the Hollow.  The building itself hadn’t seemed to change much.  Old family portraits hung where’d they’d been since his days as a hatchling.  Some furniture had been rearranged or had disappeared, but Nelan quickly felt the familiar rooms soothe and rest him.

        Once he’d concluded his inspection, Nelan retreated to his father’s study.  The room might have been considered large if it hadn’t been crammed full of so many books.  Nelan shared his father’s love of reading, and his father’s study reflected their common passion.  The sun’s rays lightly touched on the old desk and chair invitingly, beckoning him to rest his body.

        Collapsing into the chair Nelan grabbed a book at random and idly began perusing through the pages.  As he flicked through a dusty tome, flecks of soot flittered freely through the air.  It quickly become apparent that the book had lain idle for sometime with a layer of dust coating the cover.  Nelan flipped the book about reading it’s cover; Power of the Mistweaver Order: Politics and War.

        “That’s odd,” he murmured an eyebrow raised.  When he’d left the Kingdom his sister had been spending hours studying the Order’s teaching.  This book would have been one of her old favorites, and shouldn’t have been gathering dust.  The Mistweaver Order was an ancient tradition that pre-dated the Kingdom’s first war with the ponies, before the Skari clan had been driven from their coastal territories.  The Order had guided the Skari clan for generations.  Once the Mistweavers had acted as the guardians of the coastal dwelling Skari clan, but during the first war the clan had been forced from their homes, and into the heart of Kingdom.  At that point the Order began to crumble among the superstitious Gallchobhar and Baldr clans.

        Nelan remembered how his sister used to regale him with stories of the old Skari clan and Mistweavers.  In the griffin’s patriarchal society the Order and Skari clan had been the only groups to place value in females.  It was a place where Eriviara could be someone, yet here she was; in charge of the monarchy’s former secret police, the agents of the very patriarchy that kept griffinettes, like Eriviara, from doing something with their lives.

There’s a story there, he thought as he placed the tome aside.  Selecting a book of myths and legends from the pile Nelan began half reading half scanning the pages.  Having grown up on the stories of the monsters from myths and legends, he knew each story by heart.  He flicked through the book before stopping on a story he’d been hearing an awful lot about of late, “Nightmare Moon, hu.”

        It was a tragic tale of two sisters, ending with the youngest’s banishment to the moon for attempting to bring about eternal night.  It was one of the many folk stories that came from Equestira, and yet it seemed the story was more than a fairy tale.  Nightmare Moon, Luna as the Equestirans were calling her, had returned to the world after a thousand years.

        Thumbing through Nightmare Moon’s legend, questions and thoughts bubbled inside Nelan’s brain.  What he would give to spend fifteen minutes with Luna.  There were so many things he wanted to ask, so many questions to have answered.  Equestria and its residents was technically an enemy of the Kingdom, but Nelan was a scholar at heart and couldn’t bring himself to hate the country.

        Nelan hummed merrily as he spent hours reading his father’s books.  He found himself frequently returning to ancient myths; if the tale of Nightmare Moon was true what else was lost to time?  The stories his sister used to regale him with when they were little now held a different meaning.

        Completely engrossed in his readings Nelan missed the opening and closing of the study’s door.  A soft cough interrupted his thought, making him aware of the other griffin in the room.

        “Oh.  Sorry,” he said bashfully.  Looking up from his book his eyes met the intruder’s own.  The griffentte stared at him, her hazel eyes bore into his own.  Her broad wings and earthy feathers tickled his memory before a spark lit.  “Oh!  You’re Meriar, Eri’s friend, right?  I didn’t recognize you without your uniform on.”

        Her eyes crinkled into a small grin.  “Yeah, a griffin can really change how they look with a uniform.”

        Nelan bobbed his head in agreement.  When he saw his little sister in her Gemerie uniform, he couldn’t help but be fearful.  His little sister, the griffentte who’d made him listen to her as she read her books aloud, was beginning to scare him.  Only part of it was the uniform she wore.

        The pair of them stood in an uneasy silence for a moment.  “So” Nelan said, desperate to break the ice.  “Is there a book or something I can help you find?  I’ve been in here all day and I think it’s the same way our father always left it.”

        “No, no.”  Meriar said with a chuckle.  “I just wanted to meet you.  We flew together for nearly two weeks, but we never actually spoke.”

        “Yeah well” he said embarrassment creeping into his voice. “I had a hard time keeping up with the rest of you.  By the time we landed each night, I couldn’t do anything but lay down and sleep.”

        “Oh don’t worry about it.  Eriviara didn’t start out so tough either” Meriar said, a genuine smile and laugh lighting her eyes.

        “Eri?”  Nelan was surprised.

        “Aye.  She could hardly herself before she came to us, but the Gemiehe and Legion toughened her.”

        Nelan tried to imagine what life had been like for his sister, as she trained within the instrument of the patriarchy.  He didn’t understand why she’d joined them, and he sure as hell couldn’t fathom how she’d become the one in charge.

        “Meriar?” he began hesitantly, the words barely leaving his beak.

        “Yes?” a playful grin danced in her eyes.

        “How’d Eri get into the Gemiehe?  I mean…” he trailed off, his right foreclaw gesturing pointlessly.  He put it down.  Unsure how to word his question, he turned to Meriar hoping she understood.

        “I was wondering when you’d ask.”  The mirth in her eyes dimmed to an ember.  “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure about Eriviara’s experience.  Everyone has their own story about how they found their way into the Gemiehe.”

        Silence took hold of the room.  The non-answer was unsatisfying, particularly to a griffin of knowledge.  The lack of insight irritated him.

        “So, she just suddenly appeared one day?” he asked briskly.

        “That’s what it felt like,” Meriar shrugged.  “I know she’d been working with Agent Glix for sometime, but I didn’t meet with her until King Alaric’s fool’s war with Equestria had begun.”  This perked Nelan’s interest.

        “How did you meet her?” he asked with growing enthusiasm.

        “Oh, we were assigned together in Skyfall.”  Meriar paused, she shuffled her wings and her eyes dropped to the floor.  “Officially she’d been working in the 22nd Legion as a communication officer.  Unofficially she was a Gemiehe agent, with Agent Glix as her handler.” Nelan waited for more details, but with none forthcoming he began to prob.

        “What was the assignment?  What were you doing?”  Nelan was eager to hear news about the war.  He’d had few opportunities to speak with Eriviara about the war, and she’d been oddly tight lipped about it.

        “I’m sorry, that’s classified.”  The response was curt and brokered no discussion.   The amused ember burned out from Meriar’s eyes.  Possibly it was the robotic response, or perhaps distrust simply ran in the family, but Nelan found himself doubting the claim.

        The pleasant mood between the two griffins flickered out.  The close quarters, once homey, felt cramped and uncomfortable.  Silence reigned.

        “So,” Meriar fumbled for words as she tried to breach the awkward wall between the pair.  “You lived in this house then?”

        “Until I was fifteen.  Then I spent ten years in Learsi, as a student.”  Relieved to have found a new topic, Nelan launched into stories drawn from his childhood.  Meriar seemed eager to listen, and Nelan was happy to reminisce the past.  Nothing in the Kingdom was the same for the young scholar and Meriar provided him an opportunity to revisit that happy time.

        He regaled Meriar with tales of the past.  He spoke with passion and vigor, the stories and memories happy ones.  It was therapeutic for Nelan.  It was an opportunity for him to revel in the past, when his sister’s greatest concern was when she might dance or listen to music, his own great worry being when he might return to his books, in the days of their youth.  Meriar listened attentively, understanding that this was Nelan’s farewell to his old life.  Nelan was beginning to realize the effects war had had on his country and family, and that things would never be the same.