Of Slaves and Emperors

by 6ix

Rating: teen
Tags: Romance, Slice of Life, Alternate Universe
Length: 5840

Equestria is thriving under the rule of the griffin monarch. Celestia is dead; and ponies are 2nd class citizens, if they’re lucky. The last generation of elements died off 150 years ago but the elements of harmony are not always ponies.

300 years after the redemption of Nightmare Moon Equestria is thriving under the rule of the griffin monarch. Luna has exiled herself back to the moon; Celestia is dead; and ponies are 2nd class citizens, if they’re lucky. The last generation of elements died off 150 years ago and the griffins believe that if they were to emerge again it would end their rule. The current monarch cares not of the predicament of their acquired citizens, but the elements of harmony are not always ponies.

[size=18]In Memory Of Posy[/size]

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-10-08 19:20:02 UTC

Alpha Chapter 1: Honesty

The sun fell so low behind the hills that its light only touched the sky, cladding the land in an eerie shadow.

The battlefield was oiled slick with the bile and blood of griffons and ponies of all types. Many griffons were circling in the sky, like vultures waiting to feed, a sign of who the victors of battle were.

Clad in golden armor, the power hungry sun princess of Old Equestria looked over the dead that littered the grass, her back turned impertinently to the first emperor and father of the Great Griffon Family.

“Your armies have fallen, surrender the sun Princess, we will bring peace and harmony back to Equestria.”

The Princess gave him no response.

“Answer me Celestia! Surrender, let no more the blood of our combined people be shed for a silly throne and title.”

Still no answer.

“Confound your stubbornness! How much more must Equestria suffer?!”

“The sun will never bow to you.” The princess spoke without even a glance over her shoulder. “This was a needless conflict.”

“Needless?! We fought for our people, for harmony, you fought for yourself interest!” The griffon emperor flailed his wing up in declaration. “As of now you, and your little ponies, are spoils of war! Every pony that lives today will have to earn their freedom. In this way they will give back to Equestria what you and your kind corrupted!”

“And what would you do with me?” still she did not turn around.

“Still only worried about your flank! Well, there is little use this country will have with a dead princess.”

A young changeling was watching the community play reenacting the defeat of Princess Celestia.

All around him, on elevated white slabs, sat griffons, ponies, diamond dogs, more than likely a few other changelings, and even the occasional adolescent dragon.

The marble seats descended into the ground, as if a giant bowl was dug out in the middle of Canterlot. One of many structural additions brought under the griffon rule.

The play made her seem like some selfish ruler disconnected from her people and the emperor some kind of savor of the land.

‘History is written by the victors’ as they say.

“150 years have passed” the narrator bellowed to the crowed, “the Great Griffon families have kept their promise and Equestria has never been so prosperous!” cheers and whistle enveloped the air around the changeling. The roar from the theatron drowned out the shuffling of talons and paws as a local guard approached the changeling.

“Entomon!” The griffon yelled as he grasped the changeling by the back of his neck. “Don’t suppose Hephaestus is here with you?” asked the guard as he lifted him up to his eye level.

Everyone knew who Entomon was. The only changeling slave who did not take an alternate shape when out in public; this did Entomon no favors as his love for theater kept getting him in trouble.

Luckily for Entomon most of the guards knew, and in debt to, his master, the local black smith.

Entomon antenna like ears dropped. “If I say yes can I stay and finish the rest of the show?” He answered in a flat voice.

The guard was already flapping his wings to take off, Entomon still in his grasp.

“O, good old bird, how well in thee appears. The constant service of the antique world, when service sweat for duty, not for meed! Thou art not for the fashion of these times”

The guard gave Entomon a confused look.

Entomon sighed. “I’m calling you a tool.”

Entomon was small enough for the griffon to fly and carry him; he had his own wings but he wasn’t about to make this any easier for the guard. As they flew over the rooftops of Canterlot he was mentally preparing himself for another of Hephaestus berating.

Canterlot’s population is made mostly of griffons, however few flew through skies; this was common in larger cities like Canterlot. Because of the higher population, midflight collision was a major problem. Griffons are essentially birds, so it doesn’t take much to break a wing or a neck. So there was only other guards and tourist flying though the skies on a regular basis.

The distant clanging told the young changeling that their trip was almost over.

They soon landed in front of Hephaestus’ work station. The clanging stopped as an older griffon, blemished with age, stormed out, looking more like an angry bear than a bird.

Everything about Hephaestus was large, his wings his talons and legs his neck, even his voice and every ounce of it was muscle, it astonish most to see a bird his size fly. To call him intimidating was an understatement.

“Where did you find him dis time?” Hephaestus bellowed as he approached.

“He was at the public theater, just like last time and the time before that”. Responded the guard as he tossed Entomon at the old griffon’s talons. “We can’t just bring him back every time he breaks curfew. You need to control him he’s too young of a slave to be let out like this.”

“Entomon is more honest dan most griffons, besides he wouldn’t get very far, who in town doesn’t know Entomon,” Hephaestus responded.

“I agree, but the law is the law. You should have been fined nearly ten times by now and this insect should have been whipped.” The guard pointed a talon at the blacksmith, “As his owner his action reflects on you.” He further chastised Hephaestus as he took off.  “You need to remember that!” he yelled as he flew away.

Entomon was still sitting there at his masters talons; his head hung low his ears flatten to his head. “Just go inside I’ll deal with you after I work dis order.” Hephaestus said to the cowering changeling. Hephaestus didn’t even look at Entomon as he made his way to the house.

Entomon trekked up a flight of stairs to the room he shared with the other slave Hephaestus owned. As soon as he made it to his bed and collapsed into it, a pop resonated in the room.

“Wow, you’ve been getting in trouble even more than me lately.”  Entomon glanced up at his roommate. Entomon was not the only changeling in town, but there was no other slave like Nero. Then again there was no other draconequus like Nero ether.

Most of his kinds were too rare and too powerful to even get near much less to become a spoil of war or trade. Nero however was small and stout unlike his snake like brothers, in fact he was just as tall as Entomon, and he was a one trick draconequus. All he could do was teleport, so compare that to the average unicorn, Nero was pretty weak.

“That’s only because Hephaestus hasn’t let you out since you pulled that prank on the grain seller” Responded Entomon raising his head.

“Hey that guy should thank me!” Nero teleported to the other side of the bed, “That pony was selling beer instead of grains for weeks; he’s never been so popular.”

Entomon response was laced with annoyance “You were lucky. The only reason you weren’t punished and Hephaestus fined was because the stall owner was a pony.” He knew Hephaestus would talk with him soon maybe even beat him; he was in no mood for Nero’s hyper personality.

“Oh please, like a few whips to the back would faze me, I have been through worse helping Hephaestus in the forge. My entire body’s a callus!” Entomon rolled his eyes, with almost no pupil it was an expression missed by most.

“So they found you at another play?” Nero asked.

Entomon started ignoring Nero. He lied back in his bed and reminisced of the many satires he learned over the years. Nero’s yammering faded to the back ground as Entomon drifted off to sleep.

A scene played out in Entomon’s mind. A thick haze fell over everything he saw. All he could tell is that it was a forest somewhere, and there was a pair of ponies. He could hardly see what’s going on or who it was, but he could hear them...

“Let go.”

“Are you crazy?!

Entomon couldn’t make out much more than that but the last thing he heard was screaming.

Entomon’s eyes popped open as he sat up in his bed. “What the buck was that?”

A booming voice came from the outside the house.

“Your awake, good, come down and stop cursing you know better.”

Entomon look of surprise grew after he heard his master.

“How does he do that?” he said to himself.

“Ears child, now come down.”

Entomon made his way down stairs and found breakfast waiting for him; which for a changeling was just a cup of honey.

The house that the three occupied was the largest in their section of the city, but with a griffon the size of a boulder, and half of the house taken up by a smith shop and forge, it might as well have been a shack. Because the house was also the forge it had to be built to be flame retardant. Therefore the home was made out of mud soaked wood, and the exposed wood was chard black, this made the wood a lot less flammable and once it did catch fire the house would collapse on itself and smother the flames and keep the fire from spreading to the other homes.

Many have suggested that Hephaestus just rebuild the house out of solid stone or brink, few new that the extreme heat of the forge would cause a lot of damage to such a house while the wood would just expand and contract without much damage to the home, plus the forge would turn stone house into an oven and that was not a metaphor.

Because off all this everything inside was blacked wood, an eerie place to call home.

Entomon gulped down his honey as soon as he got down stairs. He cringed as Hephaestus came inside the house.

“We need to talk.” his master said as he sat down. “Do you not have pride in yourself? You can be more than a slave, child, but you so vain dat you can’t see yourself as more.”

“Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.” Entomon said quoting yet again.

“Don’t deflect and stop answering everything wid someone else words. Use your own, Entomon.”

“Fine; I'll get started on cleaning the house, there are few tabs that I'm going to try to collect today and let me know if you need anything before I balance the books, don’t want to do that twice.” This was why Hephaestus bought him. Everything thing besides smith work was Entomon’s job, Hephaestus would sometime call him his shop manager, mostly when he did not want to deal with an irate customer.

““Entomon, how old are you?” Hephaestus asked ignoring his slave’s attempt at ending the lecture.

Entomon nearly dropped his cup. It was something that no one every asked him.Changelings didn't really age like griffons or ponies. There was not really young or old, there was just the term ‘of age’ which is the point that a Changeling becomes self-aware is. They were insectoid creatures after all. To a changeling, age was a social concept that they didn't need, but that had been pushed upon them since they lost the war with the empire.

Most changelings were bred as slaves from the start. Mostly this was because only a changeling queen could give birth to a changeling, and there were no free queens. Changelings could breed on their own, just not with another changeling, but those kind of relationships were dangerous for the non-changeling and are even considered taboo. The offsprings were lucky though, and always took after the other parent and never become some kind of hybrid of the two.

Many scholars of the day believed this universal breeding ability was once a part of the changeling feeding cycle. They would plant themselves in a family or village, and start their own family. Allowing the changeling to not only feed off the love of a mate but of their children as well; though most changelings couldn't attach themselves to any one anymore as there were laws and magic in their way. This made most changelings unable to cast any spells besides the one that gave them their name.

“Well, I finished growing right before you brought me, that was six years ago.”

“I know you don’t really age or keep track of how old you are, but I would like to have a way to track your… progress.”

Entomon noticed that there was awkwardness in Hephaestus’ voice as he spoke. The changeling preferred not to assume anything with others and let them speak for themselves, but this was out of character for his master.

“Progress, master? In what?”

“Life, my boy. You have not done much wid it. But once you reflect and measure it, you may come to control it.”

“I am a slave, master. Your slave. I have no life of my own.” His voice was so flat that it nearly persuaded the giant griffon from pressing on with his little pep talk.

“Slave or not you have control over your actions. Yet you’ve done noding but work and gone to plays. You have enjoyed noding else in your life.”

“Most would say that’s a desired trait in a slave.” Entomon's flat tone grew in volume.

“Dat’s not what I desire.”

“I desire only what you wish master.” Entomon said cynically .

“Don’t blow dis off, Entomon. You need to get your head out of de clouds.” The blacksmith's voice was rising. “You have done everyding de same way for the last six years.”

Entomon slammed his cup down on the table and for once yelled at his own master, “What are you getting at? What are trying to do!?!”

“I’m trying to raise you!”

If there was ever an awkward moment too painful for the changeling to remember this was it. The two just stood there and stared at each other. Neither dared to talk.

POP!

“Hey Big Boss I delivered your messages, but I’ll need Entomon’s help with today’s purchases.”

“Nero!” Entomon said in a tone of relief, “I have never been so relieved to see you.”

The diversity of Equestria, under the rule of the griffon monarch, is never better expressed than during Canterlot’s market hours.

Griffons, young dragons, diamond dogs, donkeys, goats, minotaurs, and ponies were adding more color to the streets than a fireworks festival. Stalls were run by ponies, griffons, and even changelings, although you would never know it. Here it didn’t matter what your rank in life was, here you negotiate your price like anyone else, and you could even find a member of the great griffin family discussing the most recent plays with a slave.

Which is what Entomon was doing, “I’m telling you Octavia was not written by Seneca it had to be an understudy, it had his tone but not his style.”

“Ones style can change; he has had many works over many years, it’s very likely he had to change a little.” Entomon had found himself talking theater after a young griffon came up to him and bluntly asked why he did not hide his shape.

Entomon was used to this and was ready with a response, “No one can be happy who has been thrust outside the pale of truth. And there are two ways that one can be removed from this realm: by lying, or by being lied to.”

He would normally get a confused look from whoever was confronting him, but this time the lights in this griffons eyes intensified and she started flapping around him like humming bird to a flower.

“Ohohohoh that’s Seneca right?! Ahem…”she cleared her throat stopped moving around so much, “True happiness is... to enjoy the present, without anxious dependence upon the future.”

A compulsion came over Entomon and he was buzzing around in excitement just like her, “You like the theater?! Have you seen the recent shows? I missed the last one; I wasn’t supposed to be there.  Ever seen one of Plautus’ work”

“Hey!” one of the shops keeps, another female griffon, yelled out, “you kids stop flapping around like that, you’re going to break something!”

“She’s right, it’s crowded here” Entomon said after recovering to a more appropriate demeanor “fair maiden, will you honor me to the watering hole?” he said quoting another famous play.

The young griffon giggled and played along, “and may I have a name to my captor?”

“Entomon.” He answered.

“Eudocia, but my friends call me Ocia” she answered

“May I call you by a name so familiar?” at this point Entomon was showing off. A few onlookers didn’t blame him. The young griffin was an attractive one. Her feathers were pristine with nothing out of place. She was the softest brown that one could imagine while her white feathers seem to reflect the light, purple feathers circled her eyes, and her top feathers, the feathers on her head, swept in every direction. To most she looked like an aristocrat’s daughter.

“Accompany me to a new coffee shop, I hear it’s an exquisite place. We shall see if you will earn that familiarity.” She said.

“A coffee shop?” Entomon ask a little surprised. “Their motto is ‘welcome, here’s your drink, now get out.’”

Eudocia shook her head, “not this establishment, it’s called Joes, they have couches and lounge areas, and serve more than just coffee, so it’s a great place to mingle for a time. Shall we be going?” she asked.

“Just let me check with my master I got all of his shopping done and my partner Nero just teleported it back home. I was on my way there myself” Entomon put his hoof in his mouth and whistled, but no sound came out.

An awkward silence became bubbled between the two.

“So you’re a sl-” POP! “Whoa!” Nero had teleported right between the two.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya dear” Nero said bowing in apology, he then turned to his fellow slave “Ya called?”

“Yes, could you see if Hephaestus needs me for anything else,” he elegantly pointed his hoof to Eudocia, “a griffon has requested my company?”

Nero did a mock salute and teleported again.

“Goodness, what was that?” Eudocia asked once she shook the shocked look from her face.

“A headache most of the time” punned Entomon, “he’s a draconequus.”

“I thought they were bigger.” She said.

“They normally are I think Nero is an exception.”

POP!

“Yo buddy, Hephaestus said go have fun, be home before curfew, and something about birds and bees…I think he was hungry. Any who I'm still grounded or I would join ya, ta-ta.” another pop and Nero was gone again.

Entomon was confused by the last part of the message. “See what I mean? Are you ok?” a faint crimson was making its way through Eudocia’s feathers.

“What? No I'm fine,” she quickly said. “So you said master, Entomon are you a…slave?” she said the last word as if it was a big secret.

““Character, not circumstance, makes the person.”

Ocia smiled as she understood. “Come let’s get going before it gets dark.”

The two started making their way through the crowds. Entomon did notice that as they got a lot of strange looks as they walked together, mostly from griffons. Something was off.

“So is Nero also a slave?” ask Eudocia.

“Yes, why do you ask?” he answered.

“He said he was grounded, I never heard that term for a slave before.” There was a hint of confusion in her voice.

“Oh, I see what you’re asking. Nero is just a kid I think he’s around 6 years old that would make him a baby draconequus.” Eudocia gave him a funny look. “Draconequus age like dragons.” Eudocia made an expression of understanding. “Nero made a big ruckus here in the market a while ago, and our master grounded him for two months.”

“Parents ground, slave owners beat or humiliate” Eudocia had spat every word out of her beak. Entomon took notice of her tone, only other slaves had this reaction to Hephaestus’ style of punishment. Entomon felt bad for assuming that she was a free griffon.

He lowered his head in shame. “I'm sorry Eudocia; I didn’t think you were a slave.”

“No apologies necessary, I'm not a slave, I just don’t have a high opinion of many slave owners.” A thought crossed her mind. “What made you assume I wasn’t a slave?

“The way you look; your very pretty Eudocia and you speak quite elegantly” He answered.

“What, are slaves ugly and un uncouth?” she didn’t mean to lash out at him but the changeling sudden flattery surprised her a little.

“No no, just not as well…groomed as you are, and most of the time we don’t smell as pleasant as you do.”

The more the changeling spoke the darker her feathers on her face got. She found herself hiding part of her face behind her wings.

She started to slow her pace which put some distance between them. Entomon stop after she fell far enough behind. Looking over his shoulder at her he asked if everything was alright.

Ignoring his question she answered with her own, “You really think I'm pretty?”

Entomon shrugged, “Doesn’t every one?”

That was all she could take.

Her face became completely flushed, butterflies were kicking up a storm in her stomach, and all of her senses become dulled. There had been plenty of griffons who have tried to woo her, even some ponies; but this was different. There was such honesty behind his words, a level of sincerity that she never experienced. He wasn’t after anything, not even her; all he was doing was being honest. Eudocia was surprised that the last part upset her a little bit.

Her sense of time slowed down so much that it seemed like hours had passed when Entomon spoke up again.

“Eudocia is that the coffee shop you were telling me about?” he was pointing to one of the shop.

“Um…” she was trying to straighten her thoughts, “yes that’s it”

Most of the patrons were ponies scattered among them was a few changelings (disguised as ponies like always) and a griffon or two. A lot of heads started craning to glance at them. Entomon was used to this; it was the same every time he entered a new place.

This time was different; they didn’t go back to whatever they were doing before the sight of a changeling interrupted them. The entire café was staring, and did not stop.

“Sorry,” Entomon hung his head, “people are always like this with me, they’ll leave us alone after a bit, that is if you want to stay.”

“I have similar issues where ever I go.” She replied, “I pay no attention to it, how do you cope with it?”

Entomon straighten himself up and spoke dramatically with his hoof extended into the air. “A gem cannot be polished without friction, nor a man perfected without trials.”

Eudocia giggled, “I think you like Seneca more than I do, Entomon.” She raised her talon in the air like Entomon,” Come, let us ignore these gawkers and pay heed to another only.”

“What’s that from?” Entomon ask.

She withdrew her talon from the air and tapped her head, “My brain.”

“Gage me with a fork and beat me with a spoon,” a gagging sound came from behind the two. They looked over their shoulders to see a familiar creature made of many others choking himself and dramatically falling over.

Eudocia raised an eyebrow at him; Entomon however was used to his antics and just sighed.

“What do you want Nero?” he said in a flat voice.

Nero got right back up like his actions were normal. “Big Boss wants to know where you are and with whom. I think he’s going to come ge-”

“He said I can have the evening off!”

“Chill bro, I'm just the messenger. It’s going to be a while anyways, so just have fun till he gets here; I’ll tell him you’re at Joes with your girl friend.” the whole shop exploded in whispers and murmurs.

The stares, the extra attention and now this reaction to Nero’s teasing, something about all this was bugging Entomon, he just couldn’t connect the dots.

He shook free of his worry turned to Nero, “we just met” Entomon tilted his head in Eudocia direction, “don’t go spreading rumors around, I’m in enough trouble lately as it is.”

“Yes yes yes, I’ll just tell him where you’re at.” Pop, he was gone again.

“Well he certainly comes and goes as he pleases doesn’t he?” admired Eudocia, “how is he still a slave? He could have escaped that life along time ago.”

“Escape to what?” Entomon asked in a dark tone. “He’s a child, remember?  He would get no education; the public schools are only open to griffons.” The more he talked the colder his voice grew. “Most non-griffon equestrians get their education from tutors or private schools, if their rich enough. The rest of us learn from our parents or masters. The best thing for him is to remain a slave. Even more than myself, as our master has apprenticed him. Hephaestus could leave the shop to him one day since Nero’s life span outreaches our own.

“Besides,” he lowered his tone when he noticed the growing concern on her face. He took a breath before continuing. “Besides, they’re spells on him to keep him from using his teleportation to escape. I’m sorry I should not have snapped like that, it was a fair question.”

Entomon found a wing around his shoulders. Eudocia was nudging him further into the shop.

“Let’s order and find a seat. We can talk until your master comes and picks you up.”

The two made their way to the counter next to a display of pastries. “Welcome to Joes!” a light brown mare greeted them from behind the counter. Her color reminded Entomon of well...coffee. She had a very genuine smile, all of which made Entomon believe that she might the owner. “Is this your first time here?”

“Yes it is.” Answered Eudocia,  “This is very different for a coffee shop,” she waived her talon around, “How do you keep afloat with most of your patrons just lounging about with just one or two orders?”

“Tell me.” A stallion that was working the steamers spoke up, “How did you hear about us?” the pony that spoke up look almost exactly like the one at the register, only about three shades darker.

“An employee of my father told me about this establishment.” Eudocia answered.

The stallion spun around and pointed his hoof at her “Ha! That’s how my dear.”

She just stared and blinked at him.

“Ignore my brother,” the other pony said turning to glare at him, “he tends to talk as if you already know what he’s thinking. You see we don’t advertise we rely on word of mouth to get our name out there, and it offsets the cost, it actually works better this way, this isn’t our first coffee shop our first attempt went belly up.”

“Wow,” the changeling said, “that is different, a few shops could learn from yours.”

Eventually the two ordered their drinks and turned to find some seats.

“If you two need anything else let us know,” the barista mare call out, “I'm Hazelnut my brother is Dark Roast.”

The two soon found a table to share.

“So you asked me what the last play I saw was.” The young griffin started up. “I just saw Octavia for the first time.”

“That’s an interesting one. Well as interesting as divorce can be. Well what did you think about it.” Entomon asked as he sipped his beverage.

“It was good but it was the same as any other Seneca’s’ creations.”

“Well you be happy to know that he didn’t write that one, most think he did but we now know it was an understudy of his.” Another sip.

“What? Really, you’re teasing me are you not?” she seemed a little exasperated

Her new friend shook his head at her.

“I’m telling you Octavia was not written by Seneca it had to be an understudy; it had his tone but not his style.”

“Ones style can change; he has had many works over many years, it’s very likely he had to change a little.”

Their pending debate of theater history was cut short as Entomon felt the warmth of some one behind him.

A mixed look of fear and annoyance rose up in Eudocia face as Entomon glanced up to find an overly preened griffon officer behind him.  His chest fluffed out further than his beak, his back perfectly slated down, and his eyes closed. Entomon has seen this before in other self righteous griffon who thinks little of any species that were not his own.

But why would someone like this be in here? Entomon thought to himself. What am I doing? I’m judging him by the way he looks. As a changeling I should know better.

“Pee-yew, why do pony establishments always smell like a barn?” Never mind. “Is it because there is so many of them in one place? There should be a law against ponies congregating or assembly.” He seemed to be talking to no one. This pompous griffon just earned himself more than a few angry glares, but it was Dark Roast who spoke up.

“This shop is open to all, griffon, but we will not tolerate you harassing our guest. Leave bird, or I will call the guard.”

“I am the guard you fool!” The griffon bellowed. “You can cease your whining I will be gone soon enough, I’m only here to escort the princess home.”

Suddenly all the strange behaviors that Entomon observed made sense, “you’re a princess!” Entomon yelled in surprise while pointing at Eudocia. She smiled at him sheepishly.

“Well that’s what daddy calls me.” Entomon face hoofed, but then started laughing at her light joke.

“Well that explains a few things but what about feather stick over here” the changeling japed his hoof towards the griffon.

“You dare speak so casual with a member the great griffon family!?” the griffon officer seemed to be getting bigger as his anger grew.

“Quiet Placidus! I desire his voice over yours right now.” The griffon straighten himself even more than he was before, which was an accomplishment in Entomon’s mind. “I will also leave when Entomon leaves.” She turned back to the changeling. “He’s an officer in the guard, one that my parents like to use. My family probably just wants me home before the sun sets.”

“Oh, so he’s an errand pigeon.” The ‘pigeon’ suddenly moved between the two, knocking over the table. Placidus reared up on his hind paws and back slapped the offending changeling so hard that he flew unconscious across the shop.

“I will not allow something so lowly insult me or the princess!”

A massive talon scooped Entomon body up off the floor, green blood could be seen oozing from his lips.

“And I will not allow you to damage my property.” There were just some voices that had a power over people that just had such a boom to them that you couldn’t do anything put shut up and listen.

When Hephaestus talks you listen.

When he stands up straight you fall to all fours.

And if you’re Placidus you pray to the gods that this mountain of a griffon doesn’t decide to eat you.

“When my changeling comes to, you may come by my shop to offer an apology.” His voice held no hatred or anger nor command or order. He spoke as if this was a casual fact.

“Apologies to a slav-”

“Would you rather I pull your unit’s tab as compensation?” Not a change in his tone.

A few moments went by as Placidus looked like someone slapped his mother.

Then, through a gritted beak, Placidus finally gave his answer, “Send a slave and I’ll answer.”

“Good, now wait outside; I’ll send our princess out after she’s said her goodbyes.”

The officer slink his way out of the coffee shop.

“That brute!” the griffon princess said, “We have seen minotaurs more civilized than he.” Now that everyone here knew who she was, Eudocia had to act the part. “Will Entomon be alright?”

The changeling lay limp in Hephaestus talon, the poor thing was so small compared to his master that he looked like a sleeping foal.

“He should be fine,” the black smith answered her; “Changelings are more resilient dan de rest of us.”

The princess kept her composer, but her relief was apparent in her eyes.

“We are to assume you are Entomon’s owner? We must say we are impressed with you; few have made that weasel so humble. We’ve only seen my uncles, Remus and Romulus, do it.”

“Ah; so you’re Palaiologos’ great niece.” The giant griffon responded “I trust my Entomon was respectful?”

“Most would say no as he spoke to us as if we were common, but this was welcomed and desired. You speak of our great uncle in the same manner, such a strange habit you have.”

“I'm a mountain griffon princess; we believe that if you don’t talk to someone as an equal, you insult dem. It’s why dere are so few of us in major cities like dis.”

“That would explain your size and stature. Would you do us a favor?”

He gave a single node.

“Let Entomon know that we would like to see him again and that he should address us as Ocia when we next meet.”

Not a single patron of Joes made a sound as the drama unfolded in the coffee shop. No one could look away and no one dared to move. Most of the same thoughts ran through these ponies’ minds, but one unicorn’s gears spun a different direction.

In the far corner of the shop, nearest to the back door, sat a stallion with a white coat brighter than most will ever see again; scars of all types covered his body causing most to approach him with caution. The alabaster unicorn sported a rose compass cutie mark with a single thin scar across it. His golden main and tail were the things of fairy tales, and his horn was slightly longer than the average unicorn.

The stallion watched the drama with everyone else, but his interest was not in the treasure trove of gossip but of opportunity.