A Griffon’s Foray into the Realm of Puppy Rearing

Chapters

01 - A Quiet Night on the Town
02 - A Quiet Evening with Friends
03 - A Quiet Afternoon at Home
04 - A Quiet Night at the Opera
05 - A Quiet Morning with Family
Epilogue - A Letter from Far Away

01 - A Quiet Night on the Town

In the High Confederation of Wings, in a small town known as Konservenstadt that sat on a river, there sat an old warehouse, abandoned when the cannery closed and moved upstream, and left unused when the business concerns using it left and stopped paying rent. It was filthy and in poor repair, but the fledglings of Konservenstadt knew better than to risk playing anywhere near it, although they would never say why. Although abandoned, that warehouse was not empty.

Below the ground, in the basement of that warehouse, several steel rusting doors barred access to the multitude of individual storage rooms that once held all manner of spare supplies. In one of those doors, a slot slid open and a pair of beady eagle eyes peered out into the basement corridor. “How’s the weather?” asked their owner.

“The sun shines fairly,” came the reply.

The slot slammed shut again, and several tense moments passed before the lock clicked and the door opened. The griffon behind it was in need of a bath, white feathers turned grey from grit and fur matted in spots from sweat. It was a stark contrast to the well-kempt and well-dressed griffon outside the door.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t answer” said Jacoby Flynn.

“You can’t be too careful in this business,” said the griffon who answered the door. “But enough of that. Come in, come in.” The griffon stepped to one side, and Jacoby entered the room behind him, immediately casting his gaze around. The room itself was what he expected from a small storage room in the basement of a warehouse, with an earthen exterior wall and wooden ones built around the concrete support beams. A single electric light burned overhead, and vents against the exterior wall led up to other parts of the structure, allowing air exchange (if not particularly fresh air). A concrete floor rounded out the construction.

The contents of the room consisted of Jacoby and the griffon who had let him in, along with three other griffons scattered about that eyed him warily and looked every bit as dirty as their comrade, as well as four large boxes- shipping crates, really- set along the earthen wall in front of him. “That’s it, then?” Jacoby asked, moving towards the boxes. “What’s in them?” His path was blocked by one of the griffons moving in front of him, somewhat aggressively, and then leaning left and right when Jacoby tried to maneuver around him.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” said the griffon who’d let him in as he shut the heavy door. “We’re going to take things in a slightly different direction.”

Furrowing his brow, Jacoby turned back around towards the door. “What do you mean?” he asked. An instant later, his eyes widened, and he looked to his right when he heard the chak of a firearm being cocked, and found the muzzle of an aging flintlock pistol aimed squarely at his beak.

“What he means,” said the griffon leveling the pistol at him, the one that had blocked his path earlier, “Is that we’ve been wise to your game the moment you knocked.” Jacoby stared at him for a moment- where had he gotten that pistol from, exactly- and then gave an irritated sigh and sat on the floor, raising his talons in the air and looking in no fashion pleased.

“Well, that didn’t take long. What gave it away, exactly?” Jacoby said, finding no point in prolonging his charade, “You let me in without opening fire first, so the password was certainly correct.”

“Anygriffon with even a little money could have found out that password,” said the griffon that had first revealed their deception, the one who let him in to begin with. He and one other stood a distance in front of Jacoby, with the pistol-wielding one to his right and the last of the bunch a distance to his left, boxing him against the wall and leaving no avenues of escape. “Why else would we use it as a decoy?”

Jacoby’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “A decoy password,” he repeated. “Of course.”

“It’s hardly a surprise,” the griffon who seemed to be calling the shots said, “Creatures like you are all the same. Just enough money to get into trouble, not enough brains to get out of it. Now, listen closely, while I explain how this is going to work.”

“I don’t need you to explain anything because I already know exactly how this is going to end,” Jacoby replied calmly, if suddenly, turning his head to the right, looking at the griffon training the pistol at his face. “You will be incapacitated by an electric shock to the throat, partially paralyzing the muscles and forcing you to focus entirely on breathing.”

He turned to the griffon in front of him. “You will be injected with a fast-acting chemical that will interfere with your nervous impulses, preventing you from fighting or indeed, even moving.”

Finally, he turned to the remaining griffon, standing just to the side of the previous one. “And you will be disabled in talon-to-talon combat, and then rendered unconscious, thus eliminating all threats to my welfare.”

The four criminals that had Jacoby surrounded were silent, both in shock at being given a prediction that seemed unlikely to come true, and also because there seemed to be a component missing from Jacoby’s plan. After a moment, the last griffon standing to Jacoby’s left realized what that component was. “And what about me?” he asked.

“Oh yes, you,” Jacoby replied, turning his head to look at him. “You, I won’t need to worry about, because my accomplice, standing to my right, is going to shoot you with his pistol.”

“What?”

The single, simple statement was all that was needed to touch of a firestorm of yelling.

“You’re working with him?”

“He’s lying!”

“We trusted you!”

“How much did he pay you?”

“He’s ly-"

Further argument was abruptly ended when Jacoby suddenly moved, leaning back and grabbing the wrist of the griffon to his right, forcing his pistol downward and away from him for just a moment before it discharged. As he predicted, the griffon on his left was struck in the shoulder, and fell with a cry on pain.

His left arm shot back to the right, talons all forward, to strike the pistol-wielder in the throat. Upon making contact, the runes of his talon caps flared brightly and discharged their stored energy, the electric shock causing the griffon’s throat to spasm. He stumbled backwards, struggling to take breaths that weren’t shallow.

Jacoby’s right arm snapped forward just as the two remaining charged, and with a whip! of compressed air, one was struck in the chest with a small dart that flew from inside the sleeve of Jacoby’s jacket. Even though it was pulled out almost as soon as the griffon had felt it thump against him, his legs were already turning to jelly more quickly than he could compensate.

With a flap of his wings, the final criminal gave a war cry and flew at Jacoby, talons outstretched to rake across his face, while Jacoby responded with a flap of his own wings, leaping to the side and up over his assailant. Lashing out with his own talons, he struck the other griffon in the side of the head, runes on his talon caps flashing and discharging another electric shock. Disoriented, hurt and confused, he slammed into the wall face-first and slid to the ground, stars dancing in his vision while Jacoby landed gracefully on the floor.

A moment later, the door to the room burst opened as several armed and uniformed officers of the duchy’s security force charged in to find four incapacitated criminals (one wounded), and Jacoby Flynn inspecting the seams of his jacket for tears. It was an absolutely unfair situation; they had their batons ready and everything!

“Herr Flynn.” One of them stepped forward from behind the group, grey-feathered and sharp-eyed, taking in the room as he did. Besides being visibly unarmed, he was further differentiated from his fellows in that the green jacket he wore was marred by the presence of a red band around one arm. More than merely the commander of this group, he was the chief officer for all security forces in the duchy: Aksel Krauser. “It seems you’ve managed to subdue them.”

“Yes, I did,” Jacoby answered, fixing Krauser with a hard glare as he approached, “No thanks to you or your useless intelligence. There was a second password, Krauser.” His wings flared out slightly, but they were quickly restrained. “And I can only wonder how you missed that small detail.”

“Mistakes happen, Herr Flynn,” Krauser replied, his face impassive as he came to a stop, only for Jacoby to move suddenly and close the distance between them until their beaks were scant inches apart.

“Do they?”

Jacoby and Krauser silently glared at each other for several uncomfortable seconds. The rest of the security detail waited as patiently as they could, starting to fidget after only a few moments, however slightly. Before they could decide to do anything else, Jacoby and Krauser separated and walked in opposite directions; the former towards the boxes the criminals had kept, and the latter towards the other officers, immediately directing them to place those same criminals under arrest.

With no ceremony, Jacoby opened the lid of the first box, closest to the exit, and peered inside. “Contraband,” he noted to himself, hardly surprised. He moved to the next box. “Contraband,” he said quietly as he opened the lid. The third box was a treat when he saw the contents. “Equestrian contraband."

The last box in the row, larger than the previous three, gave Jacoby pause. It was not the size that surprised him, but rather the fact that the lid had holes punched through it and was fastened with a heavy padlock. A padlock which, in truth, did not look terribly challenging. Almost immediately, Jacoby fished a small roll of leather from inside his jacket and unfurled it to reveal a small set of lock picks. Selecting the torsion wrench and a rake, he set to work on the lock, only for it to open on his second attempt. The focus of the criminals that had applied it was clearly not on keeping interlopers out, but on keeping the contents in. Curious.

Jacoby replaced his tools in their case, and then rolled and replaced their case within his jacket before removing the padlock and opening the box to reveal the strangest contraband he could recall seeing. Strange because it was looking back at him with a pair of amber eyes filled with fear, set on a canine and ever-so-slightly wolfish face covered with dirty, grey fur. Jacoby recoiled in surprise. The diamond dog inside the box- for what else could it have been- shrunk down into one corner of the box, wrapping his arms around himself and trying to disappear.

“Well,” Jacoby said after he had a moment to compose himself, “This is no place for you to be. Come on, let’s get you out of here.” He reached into the box, and immediately, the pup recoiled further and turned away, shutting his eyes tightly and raising his arms up over his head to protect himself. When nothing further happened to him, he slowly turned to look back up to the griffon looming over him, who certainly did not look like the others that had seen him in the box.

“It’s OK. Those bad griffons are gone, they can’t hurt you anymore,” Jacoby said to him with a warm smile, talons still outstretched. “In fact, I promise that if you stay near me, no creature will ever hurt you again.”

The pup hesitated for a few seconds, and then cautiously reached up towards Jacoby with both paws. Moving slowly so he wouldn’t be frightened, Jacoby reached the rest of the way into the box and lifted the pup out. Almost immediately, the diamond dog latched onto him with his arms and legs, clinging to the griffon’s breast tightly as if he were a sloth clinging to its mother. Almost immediately after that, his small form began to shake with quiet sobs. “It’s alright,” Jacoby said, backing away from the box awkwardly, unused to moving with another creature clinging to him.

“Not as rewarding as I’d hoped.”

The voice belonged to Krauser, and given its proximity, Jacoby knew he was approaching. This was confirmed when he came around from his side, and puzzled for a moment at the ball of dirty grey fur stuck to Jacoby’s front. “Herr Flynn, what have you found?”

“A puppy, Herr Krauser,” Jacoby replied. He sat on the floor, raised his talons and gently stroked the pup’s head with his brass-capped nails, and almost immediately, his quiet sobbing began to quiet and he started to relax. “A little, lost puppy.”

The Duchess was not accustomed to being bothered at her home, least of all with matters of state. But surely enough, she was enjoying her dinner when her butler informed her that she had been sent an urgent telegram, and so she excused herself to an adjacent room to read it.

Urgent Priority, deliver immediately
Head of Household c/o Griffondorf Postal Authority
Castle Falkenstein

Good eve Your Grace STOP Operation successful STOP Four criminals incarcerated and one live prisoner recovered STOP Full report by afternoon Krauser

With a satisfied nod, the Duchess instructed her butler to leave the telegram on the desk in her study, and then she returned to finish her dinner.

02 - A Quiet Evening with Friends

Later that same evening, Jacoby was at Hänsel’s manor, as were Krauser, the diamond pup that had been earlier freed, and most critically, Adlerheim’s resident physician, an aging bull from Hollstein whom Hänsel swore was the best in the Confederation. Given his seeming knowledge of diamond dogs, that statement may have had some truth to it.

It was unlikely, at that particular moment, that the diamond pup would be particularly inclined to think much of the physician’s skills; the bull had one end of a tongue depressor gripped in his teeth, and was using the other end to press the pup’s tongue out of the way so that he could get a clear look at his throat. Despite his repeated and barely contained gagging, the pup managed to not throw up everywhere.

They were at one end of the drawing room, the pup sitting atop the small table to make the examination easier. The physician stood, having no reason to sit at that particular moment. Off to the side, a short distance away, Jacoby sat on his haunches, and though he had some questions he wanted to ask, he kept quiet and allowed the bull to work. On the other side of the room, Hänsel sat in a chair, nursing a brandy and discussing the events of the evening, and what should happen next, with Krauser, who lazed across from him on a sofa, spread across it languidly. Jacoby had tried to engage the officer in conversation, but gave up after realizing that everything always turned back to the pup.

Finally, the bull withdrew the tongue depressor from the pup’s mouth- who was only to happy to have it gone- and spat it onto a nearby tray, set aside for just such a purpose, where it landed on top of an alcohol soaked ragged that had been used to clean some shallow cuts on the pup’s body. With a satisfied nod, he grabbed his waiting stethoscope with his teeth and deposited it back into the bags he’d brought to carry his equipment. Only then did Jacoby rise up and approach.

“How is he, Herr Doktor?” he asked.

“Surprisingly well, all things considered,” the doctor replied as he packed up his equipment. “They saw fit to give him plenty of water, at least, although I can’t say much for what his diet was. Meat scraps and vegetables, I would suspect.” This knowledge did not set Jacoby at ease.

“My understanding was that diamond dogs were Mineralfressenden. I thought that was common knowledge.”

With a snap of canvas as he closed his bag, the doctor turned to face Jacoby. “They are, but not just any rocks will suffice, Herr Flynn. They need metamorphic rock, ideally, as well as minerals and especially gemstone. Other stones just don’t have the same nutrition. Meat scraps and root vegetables would have been the most viable alternative, if not a particularly good one.”

Jacoby turned his attention back to the pup, who fidgeted for a moment and then reached out for the griffon, and he was only too happy to oblige. The instant he was within arm’s reach, the pup climbed up and clung to Jacoby’s neck and breast as if he were a sloth, just as he had when first found.

“He’s taken quite a liking to you, I see,” the bull noted, “Will you be responsible for his care?”

“If I have anything to say about it, yes,” Jacoby replied, giving the pup a pat on the back before returning his full focus to the doctor, “I found him, and he seems to trust me. It only seems right to do so.”

“In that case, you are to take care with what you feed him. Diamond dogs are not my forte, but he will need minerals to build his strength back, corundum especially. Rubies and sapphires, I understand, and emery powder if you can obtain it. Try to limit iron until he’s healthier, as I understand it’s bit like salt to them.”

On each point, Jacoby nodded. “Jawohl, Herr Doktor.”

“Good. If that’s all, I’ll see myself out.” In a single motion, the bull gripped his bags with his teeth and deftly flung them across his back. “Gute nacht, Herr Flynn,” he said.

“Gute nacht, Herr Doktor.”

With a final nod, the bull turned towards the door out, only for it to open at just the right time for him. On the other side was Anton; a consummate professional, he never missed his cue. Casting his surprise off with a shake of his head, the bull nodded his thanks and then stepped through the portal, Anton closing it behind him. Watching mirthfully, Jacoby looked down at the diamond pup clinging to him. The pup, after a moment, briefly looked up and met his gaze, and then went back to hiding his face in Jacoby’s vest. With a light snort of amusement, the griffon turned and moved to rejoin the others.

“My apologies for excusing myself, but it seemed my presence would be better served elsewhere,” he said, making no effort to reinsert himself into the conversation gracefully. While Hänsel didn’t seem to have much to say about that, instead taking a sip from his brandy, Krauser snorted.

“It’s just as well, Herr Flynn, as I believe we are finished here.” Rather than move to stand, however, Krauser stretched out on the sofa a bit more. “The Count has graciously offered a room to me tonight, so that I might get my notes in order for the Duchess. I’ll take the dog with me in the morning, and we’ll see what he has to tell us.”

Jacoby furrowed his brow. “Begging your pardon, Offizier, but that’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think?” he said, “Certainly, where this pup will go is not a matter we’ve discussed at any length.”

“What is there to discuss, Herr Flynn?” Krauser replied dismissively. “This police action was conducted by the duchy, during which the dog was recovered. He will be remanded to the duchy for questioning. It’s that simple.”

“I disagree.”

In an instant, Jacoby held Krauser’s full attention. The older griffon furrowed his brow, considering what had just happened. “I don’t believe I understand,” he said, “What is there to disagree about?”

“He will not tell you anything, in any way,” Jacoby replied, “He doesn’t trust you, nor am I convinced that he should.”

Krauser huffed in the way one might when dealing with a petulant child. “Trust is irrelevant, Herr Flynn,” he said, slower than he normally would.

“I disagree.”

The officer’s eyed narrowed. He opened his beak to speak, but was immediately cut off when Jacoby suddenly continued. “You mean to bully him into signing an affidavit implicating some individual or group in the duchy of participating in illegal activity, the exact identity of which will be whatever is politically expedient at the time. What you would have done at Steinkralle, if the tools had been available to you.”

Silence fell over the drawing room, broken only by the rhythmic drumming of Krauser’s metal-capped talons against the arm of the sofa he occupied. “Don’t you think, Herr Flynn, that statement is more than a bit presumptuous?” he asked.

“Truth often is.”

Silence again fell over the drawing room, this time without the tapping of Krauser’s talons to break it. They were preoccupied with gripping the sofa’s arm hard to begin gouging it, despite being capped. “You know my behaviors, Herr Krauser, insofar as you need to so that you can attempt to control me,” Jacoby said. “Are you really so surprised that I bothered to research your methods before engaging with you even as an ally?”

Hänsel hesitated for a moment, distinctly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken, and then cautiously placed his brandy on the coffee table. “Herr Flynn, perhaps zis is not ze best time to propose an alternative to Herr Krauser’s plan,” he suggested.

Krauser simply fixed Jacoby with a measured glare. “The Count is right, Herr Flynn, about this and your other conjectures,” he said, “The dog is my concern. Not yours.” His mood only worsened when Jacoby pressed onward, seeming to make a point of looking him directly in the eyes.

“You’ve yet to present a compelling reason for why I should leave him in your custody.” Even if the scowl on Jacoby’s face had not made his mood clear, his wings were doing more than an adequate job, threatening to unfurl and only barely under his control.

“I am the duchy’s Chief Security Officer, Herr Flynn, and that is the only reason you need!” Krauser snapped as he jumped from the sofa. Unlike Jacoby, he made no efforts to restrain his own wings, and they were opened wide and practically vibrating. “This matter is the state’s concern, not yours!”

“I hold a Letter of Marque! The state’s concern is very much my concern!” Jacoby took a step back from the center of the room and raised one taloned foot off the floor, looking as though he might be preparing to run. An opening Krauser pushed immediately.

“Herr Flynn, surrender that dog or I will arrest you!” he shouted, beginning to advance towards the other different.

“Take another step and I’ll shoot you!”

The room froze. With those seven words, all three griffons stood where they were, unwilling to risk moving.

“What did you say?” Krauser asked, suddenly much less certain of his course of action.

“Herren, please, let’s try to stay calm,” Hänsel pleaded to no effect.

“As I said, I hold a Letter of Marque, and you are preparing to interfere with me. That means you are preparing to interfere with Parliament.” However he managed it, Jacoby kept his voice completely even and calm. His stance had not changed, taloned foot still raised from the floor, although no longer seemed as if he was preparing to run. “Take one more step towards me, and I will draw my pistol and I will shoot you.”

“Is that a threat? Are you threatening me?”

“It’s a warning. I’m warning you.”

Krauser was silent for several moments, his eyes dangerously narrow. It wasn’t possible to tell if he was thinking over his words, or simply trying to control his temper. “You’re tired, Herr Flynn,” he said finally, “Not thinking clearly. You should get some sleep, and then you’ll see this is not a prudent use of your Letter."

“That, Herr Krauser, is only partially true,” Jacoby replied, fixing the officer with a hard glare. He gestured to the pup clinging to him. “Our young friend here? He’s tired. Me? I’m just tired of you.

“Gute nacht, Herren.”

Without another word, Jacoby turned and walked out of the drawing room, the pup clinging to him tighter than ever, purposely blocking out the very loud objections Krauser was raising, as well as Hänsel’s attempts to calm him down before he had to summon the physician a second time.

“Honestly, I still can’t believe his nerve!”

Jacoby gave the brush in his talons one final stroke through the diamond pup’s now snow white fur, squirming as children are won’t to do at being fussed over. The brushing was necessary after the bath that had finished not longer before, which was also the reason that fur was now white rather than a dirty grey. Hardly a surprise, but still a small wonder; the bath had to be drained and refilled partway through.

“'Oh, don’t worry, we’ll just remand him to the state, he’ll be fine’. Ha! I’ve seen what happens when creatures are ‘remanded to the state’. If he really believed I’d go along with that, he’s out of his mind!”

The bedroom both of them were now in was what one might expect a bedroom to be in a large hotel room. Two full-sized beds held high enough from the floor by their frames for two low-profile trunks to fit under, a nightstand in-between them, two dressers large enough to hold a week’s worth of morning and afternoon attire, two armoires for evening dress, a low vanity, a full-length mirror, and even a private bathroom. Like much of the rest of the manor, the room was lit with gas lamps, although they had been turned low and shuttered for the evening and the only light was provided courtesy of a small kerosene lamp on the nightstand. No moonlight entered through the large windows that face out towards the estate grounds, blocked by heavy drapes. While this had the effect of exaggerating the pattern of the striped wallpaper, it only bothered the pup, Jacoby not even noticing.

“Well, we’ll see about that.” Finally, Jacoby took a cleansing breath, and the world was better. “Anyway, a good night’s sleep in a soft bed will do both of us good,” he said, pulling down the sheets and blanket on one and lifting and depositing the diamond pup (whose name, he realized, he’d not quite figured out how to ask) on it before tucking him in. “Don’t worry about Offizier Krauser tonight, and tomorrow, we’ll both have a big breakfast and figure the rest out. Tonight, just try to sleep.” Task completed, he turned and twisted the knob of the lamp, extinguishing the flame and completely missing his companion attempting to get his attention. The room plunged into near total darkness, with the gas lamps on the walls casting only a barely visible glow towards the ceiling, and Jacoby climbed into his own bed, sighing with content the moment his head touched the pillow.

The pup, for his part, hesitated for a few seconds, casting worried glances around the room, and then kicked his blanket off and got down on the floor, walked to Jacoby’s bedside, and tapped his shoulder somewhat forcefully.

“Hm?” Jacoby opened his eyes, still adjusting to the dark. The diamond pup gave him a pleading look, difficult though it was to see. “What’s wrong?” he asked, propping himself up on one arm. As he had been, the pup kept quiet, but looked around the room furtively. The griffon furrowed his brow for a moment, and then it hit him. “It’s the dark, isn’t it?”

The answer was rapid nodding, and Jacoby cracked a small smile. “A diamond dog afraid of the dark?” he asked. It made sense, in a way; this was a young diamond dog, one that had probably never known the burrows and caverns of his kind. The dark was where criminals and worse things hid. “Well, you don’t have to be afraid of the dark while I’m here. That was the role that runemasters filled, did you know? To write down everything so that knowledge could be spread, so that we wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore?” Expectedly, the pup shook his head. “Well, it was. And once Brünnhilde learned to shape magic with runes and taught other griffons how, that role expanded to the runecasters, who used runes to literally keep the dark away, and more importantly, to keep the things hiding in the dark away. I’m a rune caster, and while it might be dark in here right now, there’s nothing hiding in it, and there won’t be ever, as long as you stick with me. Understand?”

More nodding, less rapid and happier, was the answer, and the pup dared to smile himself. “Good,” Jacoby added, “Now, let’s get some sleep. We have a lot of traveling to do in the morning.” Satisfied, he laid his head down again and shut his eyes. Not three seconds later, he opened them again. The pup was still watching him, and gave a low, plaintive whine. Once more, Jacoby smiled. “Alright,” he said, shifting further to the far side of the bed. “Climb in.” The pup smiled, and without wasting a moment, climbed into the bed and under the sheet while Jacoby shut his eyes again.

For the final time that night, Jacoby’s eyes opened, this time when he felt the pup grabbing his arm and draping it over his form. The griffon watched the little dog for a few moments, and then shut his eyes once more. All told, the experience wasn’t as bothersome as he’d expected it to be.

It was hardly ever that the Duchess received letters from Jacoby Flynn. Typically, he was only too happy to waste her time personally. And yet, the day after her Chief Security Officer sent an express telegram summarizing the results of his latest action (a full report would be forthcoming later), she had in her grasp a letter from Jacoby Flynn, recounting his own role in that same action, to a very limited extent. And then, it turned down a very strange path.

Your Grace,

I have no doubt that Officer Krauser has already or will shortly inform you of the exact results of our police action (which, despite what he might say, would have ended with corpses instead of captives, had I not been present). Of note, however, is a diamond dog puppy that was in their custody for no discernible reason; I will begin an investigation into this matter as soon as it is practical to do so. His name is Scruffy, which I determined through a game of Charades, but he has not been forthcoming with other details yet. He is presently in my custody, and shall remain so while he recovers from the ordeal. I am invoking my right as a privateer to do this, unless I am given a Parliamentary order to the contrary.

I shall inform you of additional details as I am able to obtain them.

Sincerely,
Jacoby Flynn

“Flynn, what are you planning?” she wondered aloud to herself. She only spared a few more seconds on the missive, however, before stuffing it into her desk for later reevaluation. She had a schedule to keep.

Author's Note

So much for a weekly update schedule, eh? Oh, it was ready on Sunday. I just forgot.

Haven't done much editing either, so while I think I got everything this time, well, after last time....

03 - A Quiet Afternoon at Home

Three days later, the peaceful afternoon in Griffondorf was destroyed by a window-shattering explosion and thick, billowing clouds of black smoke rising into the air. Both originated from a single residence, 221 Obere Westen Allee, and the neighbors that were home wasted no time in moving to the street outside to see exactly what had knocked out all of their windows and disrupted their meager electric supply this time.

“Move!”

Griffons leapt aside as Alexios barreled past them, and stayed aside when they realized the Griffondorf’s courier was hot on his tail. As the two hurried towards the house in question, the front door opened, allowing an even greater volume of smoke to escape, and the little diamond dog puppy named Scruffy half-guided and half-dragged a coughing, choking Jacoby Flynn out after him, both of them wearing goggles and shirts that used to be white, and both covered in soot. Without wasting a moment, the minotaur hefted them both up and carried them out to the street. The pup was set down, and the griffon was laid down. Alexios knelt, and the courier alighted on the ground next to him. “Jake, say something!”

“Alex? Where are you? I can’t see!” Jacoby wailed, “I’m blind!”

Without wasting a moment, Scruffy pushed Jacoby’s ash and grim covered goggles up to his brow and off his eyes.

“Oh! Of course. Thank you, Scruffy.” Jacoby rewarded the pup with a pat on his head. Scruffy just smiled, glad to have been so helpful.

“Herr Flynn, what…” The courier struggled to find words for a moment, trying to wrap his head around the shattered glass and clouds of smoke that lay and rose in front of him. Was this what war looked like? “What did you do?”

“I have successfully invented a new type of grenade!” Jacoby replied enthusiastically as he stood up from the ground and dusted himself off, which really just served to spread more soot around. “Rather than relying on shrapnel to wound the enemy, it utilizes the principles I recently employed to counter the bizarre occurrences seen ‘round the Confederation to produce an unstable arcanic waveform and then spread it over a wide area, creating a disruptive pulse”- He raised his talons to indicate imaginary quotation marks around the word ‘pulse’- “Of energy that interferes with and terminates simple arcane fields, and completely collapses complex ones! It also seems to produce electric current, so more than a few lights may not be functioning anymore. I’m thinking I might call it an electroarcanic pulse.” With a clap of his talons, he looked to both Alexios and the courier for approval. “What do you think?”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. “So, you’ve invented a new type of grenade…” Alexios began.

The smile dropped from Jacoby’s face. “Neither of you?” he asked. He looked down to the soot-covered Scruffy, who only offered a shrug. Jacoby sighed heavily, disappointed in all of them. “It dispels magic, somewhat violently.”

“Ohhhh.”

“As it turns out, runewords do not react well when their fields collapse,” Jacoby finished, looking back towards his house. The iron numbers nailed over the front door that denoted his address suddenly shifted and leaned to the left. The number ‘1’ fell off entirely and clattered on the ground. “Further work on this particular device will be conducted outdoors, and far away from Griffondorf, at least until I can refine the enchantments to be less explosive.”

“Herr Flynn, shouldn't we, erm, be contacting the fire brigade?” one of the neighbors asked. It was only then that Jacoby realized that anygriff that had been home was out in the street, either preparing to panic or having just finished panicking. Several had even obtained buckets of water and were preparing to start fighting a fire, with or without the brigade.

“No, there’s no fire. The smoke is a side-effect of so many fields collapsing at the same time,” Jacoby answered, speaking a bit louder than usual to make sure he was heard by all present. “We won’t need the buckets, either, but it makes me proud to live here, knowing so many of my neighbors were ready to charge into potential danger to help me out, and I’m deeply sorry for all the property damage.”

“That’s fine!” another neighbor called out, “After the last time, the adjuster tricked us all into buying ‘Flynn Coverage’. We’ll see who’s laughing after today!” If nothing else, everygriff managed to laugh at that, and they began dispersing back to their homes to retrieve brooms and dust pans to start cleaning up.

“Even without the fire brigade, you should really let the Duchess know that everything’s fine,” Alexios cautioned, folding his arms across his chest and prompting a defeated sigh from Jacoby.

“Yes, I should, although I’m not exactly eager to get back inside,” he replied, “I don’t especially want to risk the smoke, although I don’t think it’s in any way poisonous. Not that I had to find out.” At that, he turned to the pup at his feet again, this time with a warm smile. “I suppose I have my trusty little assistant and his quick thinking to thank for that.” Scruffy smiled widely at both the praise and the pat on the head he received. Alexios rolled his eyes at the entire display, while the courier couldn’t help a small smile himself. “Still, a cloth over the face should keep out the worst of it. Luckily, my stationary isn’t anywhere near the epicenter."

“Oh, here,” the courier said as he plunged his talons into a pouch on the side of his satchel. A moment later, it came back out with an unsealed letter envelope that was promptly passed to Jacoby. “There’s a blank page inside. Give me another moment, and I’ll have a pen for you as well.”

Jacoby took the envelope- a new self-adhering type- and surely enough, there was a pre-folded sheet of blank paper inside. Turning the envelope over, he saw that it was not stamped, although he somehow doubted that the griffon in front of him did not have a supply immediately available. A moment later, a capped pen was passed over as well. “Fantastic.” Taking and uncapping the, Jacoby stopped; the pen terminated at a point like a pencil would, and there was no ink nib to be seen. “Erm, there seems to be a component missing.”

The courier shook his head with a sheepish smile. “No need for a nib. I confess I probably spent too many talons on it, but it’s a new type of pen the Dromedans have now. Holds ink internally, just like a fountain pen, but it’ll write on almost anything, even leather!” He was perhaps a bit too excited at the end. “They call it a ball pen, I think.”

Jacoby marveled at the thing for a moment. “Well, I know what I want for my birthday. Erm, Alex, would you mind?”

Without missing a beat, the minotaur turned and presented his back, which Jacoby prompted turned into a writing surface, uncapping the pen with his beak and scratching out a note in only a couple seconds, before capping the pen and giving the paper a few shakes through the air to dry the ink. “Honestly, I’m a bit surprised you have all of this with you.”

“‘Be prepared’ is my motto,” the courier replied. Then, he ruffled the feathers on the back of his head. “Or, well, it’s my cousin’s motto. She was a filly scout, you see….”

The expressions on the faces of the other three creatures showed that they didn’t see. “The, Filly Scouts of Equestria? I probably should have mentioned she lives in Equestria. Or that she never actually seems prepared for very much, even if she was the best in her troop. Not sure what went wrong, exactly….”

“Well, here’s the letter,” Jacoby said quickly, before the courier had a chance to continue speaking. He made short work of folding the paper, placing it back in the envelope and giving the lip a lick with his tongue before sealing it. Both letter and pen were returned. “That should do it.”

For his part, the courier accepted the offered items, looking a bit perplexed. “That’s it?” he asked.

“Yes. Why?"

Suddenly feeling on the spot, the courier fidgeted. “It’s just, well, as an explanation for a window-shattering explosion goes, it seemed rather… short.”

Jacoby narrowed his eyes, just slightly. “What are you implying?” he asked.

“N-nothing! I, um, I’ll deliver it immediately!” Before anything else could happen, the courier stuffed the envelope into his satchel and took to the skies. Satisfied, Jacoby turned back to his house, smoke continuing to billow from the wrecked windows, even though it was considerably less thick than it had been just moments early.

“So, Alex, do you think that my insurance policy will cover this?” he asked hopefully. Inside the house, another, much smaller explosion sounded as a runeword from another experiment failed and its field collapsed.

“Jake, I don’t think any insurance policy covers ‘rampant stupidity’.”

In Griffondorf’s administration building, the Duchess sat in her office. In her talons, she held a letter from Jacoby Flynn, just delivered. The envelope that contained it provided no clues to its purpose, but she had a few guesses. Drawing one of her nails across the top, she split the parcel opened, and then withdrew the folded paper inside, unfolded it, and looked over the both disappointing and unsurprising contents.

Oops.

-Flynn

If asked later, the Duchess would have been unable to pinpoint the moment that she started shaking her head. “Flynn, du Idiot.”

Author's Note

This one, I suspect, will read better than the last two; I’m finally trying to this things that was suggested to me by some other folks and actually reading the thing out loud before uploading it, to better catch mistakes and to improve narrative flow.

Did it work?

04 - A Quiet Night at the Opera

Two weeks later, Jacoby, Scruffy, and Alexios sat, all wearing their best shirts, vests, dinner jackets and ties (the first that Scruffy had ever worn at all) in the galleries of the Dreshden State Opera. The performance of the evening was a classic griffon fable: Der Wolf und die Füchsin, a story of deceit, imprisonment, escape, and revenge.

Alexios sat nearly as still as a statue, and it was easy enough to understand why; he didn’t especially care for opera, even if he enjoyed stage theatre as much as the next minotaur. ‘Too much singing’, he might say if asked. It was admirable enough that he’d managed to stay awake when he was probably bored out of his mind. That was, after all, the job of a bodyguard. Jacoby also sat still, although in contrast to Alexios, he enjoyed opera very much, particularly der Wolf und die Füchsin. He was not, however, paying as much attention as he normally would have, for he had spent a fair amount of the time with his attention drawn to Scruffy.

Scruffy had never experienced opera before at all, and as such, was at least a bit unprepared for the fact that opera, like any form of art, can still up feelings within creature's heart. Partway through the first act, Scruffy had begun to cry, although he did well to keep his whimpering under control so as not to bother the other patrons. Jacoby had waited for a few minutes, and when there seemed no change, asked the pup if he would like to leave.

Without hesitating, Scruffy fervently shook his head, and so they stayed.

While der Wolf und die Füchsin was undeniably Jacoby’s favorite opera, he found himself having difficulty enjoying it. He was distracted, glancing at Scruffy every so often from the corner of his eye, but by the start of the second act, the pup had calmed down. Now, as the heroine was finally using her intellect to escape her captor, he watched the stage with rapt attention. With a silent sigh, Jacoby returned his own attention to the stage.

In truth, the production was only passable. The orchestra was the same that always played, and was as excellent as it always was. It was with the cast that the issue existed. The vocals were on time and on key, but for the most part lacked the energy that he associated with the opera. Der Wolf, in particular, felt out of place, and although it was clear he was trying, it was not the right role for him. Almost any other griffon on stage would have been a better fit.

The single saving grace was die Füchsin. Although she was no virtuoso where her acting was concerned, she was an excellent singer, her voice strong and diction clear. In her, at least, was captured the energy he remembered from his previous viewings. And since die Füchsin was the principle protagonist, wasn’t that what mattered most?

At last, the finale concluded and the curtain fell to applause that was polite but lukewarm, and continued as such as the performers came out two at a time to take a bow. Der Wolf emerged on stage by himself, and once he had moved to his place in line, die Füchsin rounded out the cast as the last to emerge. In an instant, the applause rose in intensity, and remained high while they each gave one final bow and then retreated backstage. Following that cue, the audience rose from their own seats and likewise began to exit, Jacoby, Alexios and Scruffy among them. In the time since he’d been found, the pup had taken to walking on his own, rather than clinging to Jacoby’s chest, but when moving through large crowds as they were, he still made a point of gripping the griffon's talons so he wouldn’t get lost. Consequently, Jacoby had quickly mastered walking about on only three legs instead of four.

“Excuse me, sirs?”

Several of the patrons in the lobby turned towards the voice when it sounded, but quickly lost interest when they observed the grey feathered griffon it belonged to was only interested in one party. Jacoby and company turned about and approached, all thankful that the other griffon’s status as opera staff meant that the departing crowd flowed around him the way a river would around a stone. “Yes?” Jacoby asked, “How may we be of service?”

After acknowledging them with a nod “Fräulein von Kess has requested your presence backstage,” he said.

Although the name was unfamiliar to Scruffy and Alexios, it gave Jacoby pause. Kess had been one of the old kingdoms to the southwest, bordering the Crystal Empire before its disappearance, and although it had long been subsumed by the more modern principalities, the von Kess name was still well known by all other ‘southern’ names, ‘Flynn’ included. “I suppose that’s no trouble,” Jacoby said, looking down to the diamond pup. Scruffy furtively looked at the ground for a moment, and then back of to Jacoby with a nod. No hiding this time.

“Yeah, that’s great,” Alexios said, “If it’s all the same to anyone, I’ll pass this time.”

“Well, a fine bodyguard you are,” Jacoby said jokingly. Given how seriously Alexios took his work as a bodyguard, and the wholly unfriendly look he replied with, it was not the most intelligent choice of words. “So, we’ll see you in the morning then?”

With little more than a curt nod, Alexios turned and left with the rest of the patrons. Jacoby, in a perfectly reasonable reaction given the situation, withdrew a kerchief from inside his jacket and dabbed at his forehead; dodged that bullet, somehow. Not waiting for something else to even consider happening, Jacoby and Scruffy followed the unnamed griffon back into the opera.

It felt a little bit strange, being led through areas normally reserved for the staff.

After a brief journey, lasting only a couple of silent minutes, they passed through a door that led them backstage. The griffon that guided them gave them a nod before turning back and returning to the front of the opera and leaving them alone. Jacoby looked to Scruffy, who took a deep breath and squeezed Jacoby’s talons just a bit more tightly. Besides crowds and strangers, the pup was unnerved by unfamiliar places as well. As ready as he could be, he pressed onward, Jacoby right beside him.

Behind the stage was fascinating for Jacoby; an opportunity to see the inner workings of the opera. The machines and assemblies that operated the curtains and moved the set pieces, the cabling for the lights; all of it was a chance to see how a complex organism, even if artificial, worked. A short distance from the door, they came across a flock of griffons, some of which were recognizable, if only barely, as performers from the opera troupe. It was a smaller, less well-known troupe, so it made sense that they would need to perform some of the stagecraft themselves, being unable to afford much in the way of staff. The griffons busy with more technical aspects, Jacoby knew, would be employees of the opera itself. At the least, all of them were smiling, a sure sign of a good performance.

It seemed for a few moments that Jacoby and Scruffy would go unnoticed, until one of the performers noticed them. Immediately, her expression brightened even further. “Sie sind hier! Sie sind hier!” she said happily as she bounded over to them, much to the surprise of some of her troupe (although they quickly returned to what they were doing previously). The feathers covering her head and face were a golden brown similar to Jacoby’s - another mark of a southerner - and her beak was similarly yellow and tipped with black, but the feathers covering her breast blended so seamlessly with the beige of her fur that from a distance, it would be difficult to determine where one ended and the other began. “Guten Abend, guten Abend!”

“You must be Fräulein von Kess,” Jacoby said.

“Tatsächlich,” the tiercelet answered, “Ada von Kess. Und Sie sind?”

“Jacoby Flynn. This is my, ward, Scruffy, no surname.” Scruffy managed a small, short-lived, timid wave with his paw.

“Oh, yes, yes, ze diamond dog zat had ze staff in an absolute, ah, tizzy, as ze Equestrians say. Zey had never seen such a zing, zey didn’t vat to do, so zey told me!” Ada paused to give a very ladylike giggle. “Oh, but I am ahead of myself. I must know, did you enjoy our opera?” The question was very much directed at Scruffy, who avoided Ada’s gaze, fidgeted, and slide just slightly closer to Jacoby. “Oh, he is shy, ja?”

“In part, yes. He also doesn’t speak,” Jacoby said in response, “He doesn’t seem able to, but his hearing is fine and he's taken to sign language rather quickly. Along with every other subject I can think to throw at him.”

“Ein Wunderkind!” Ada exclaimed with a happy clap of her talons, “Und so enzralled by ze stage. Oh, I must know! Vat did you zink of our performance?” She slid down to the floor, resting on her belly, perhaps in the hope that it would prevent her manic glee from frightening the pup. “Tell me everyzing!”

Scruffy looked at Ada uncertainly, and then at the rest of her troupe. Finally, enough of their interest had been drawn that they began to huddle around. It was suddenly a lot of griffons in one place. He looked to Jacoby for help, but was offered only a warm smile. “You can do it,” Jacoby said, “Go ahead. I’ll translate for you.” Scruffy fidgeted for a moment, and then took a deep breath and began signing his explanation.

“It was the story that I liked best,” said Jacoby, his voice standing in for the diamond dog’s, “Most of the stories that I remember, it’s not that many, they are about strength, and strong dogs that win the battle and save the maiden.” Scruffy paused and looked to Jacoby with an expression of mild confusion, and was answered with a nod to continue; that had not been exactly what he said, but it was probably close enough. “I’m not very strong, but Herr Flynn says I’m clever, and die Füchsin is very clever, so I think I understand her. Whenever she goes some place new, she always looks at everything, so she knows what she can do and what she should look out for. She can solve her problems because she is clever, and the story is about being clever instead of strong. Clever is a good thing to be, and die Füchsin tries to teach us that through the story.”

In the time it took Scruffy to provide his analysis, Ada’s smile remained on her face, although it had shifted to become more melancholy. “Zat vas better analysis zen ve typically see from professionals,” she said after he’d finished. “You have a keen eye, but if zere is any character you may vish to be like, it must not be die Füchsin. Ve are to believe she is clever, but she does not see ze danger in der Wolf until it is too late. Ve are to believe zat she is clever, but she is not.”

Immediately, Scruffy looked disheartened until Jacoby gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I know that you have a response for that,” he said, “Don’t be shy about sharing it.” For a few seconds, the pup turned his gaze to the floor, scratching the back of his head, but quickly looked back up and began enthusiastically signing once more.

“She may not have expected him to be cultured,” Jacoby translated, “But she didn’t have a reason to think that he wasn’t civilized. He tricked her when she wasn’t expecting to be tricked. That doesn’t mean that she’s not clever, it’s just means she’s not….” He trailed off as Scruffy struggled with a word, before settling on slowly signing several. “In… sight… full-” With a sudden nod, Jacoby resumed translating- “It just means she’s not insightful. But because she’s clever, now she’ll know to be insightful too. We don’t see that because the story stopped, but we know because that is the kind of griffon she is. Clever and practical.”

Through Scruffy’s continued explanation, Ada maintained her melancholic smile. When he had finished, she still maintained that same smile, even if it somehow seemed jut a bit sadder. “I confess zat it has never occurred to look at it zat vay,” she said, dropping her gaze to the floor even as she continued to hold her smile. “I suppose I’m ze von who has not been so clever."

Ada was caught momentarily off-guard when, after just a second of silence, Scruffy suddenly wrapped her in a gentle hug, but swiftly smiled at the pup trying to comfort her just for shattering an illusion she’d long held.

“Nein, nein,” she said, gently breaking free from the embrace, “You are sveet beyond measure, Herr Hund, but in all zings, even opera, ve must be at all times prepared to be challenged. Especially ven ve believe certain zings to be true, ve must be prepared to see zat zey are not so.”

“Ugh!” exclaimed another member of the troupe, “I thought we’d left the melodrama on the stage!”

“Oh, du bist schrecklich!”

For a few moments, the group restrained giggles and chuckles, and the serious tone was broken.

“It really was an impressive analysis,” said yet another member of the troupe, walking from out of the collected half-circle of griffons and settling down onto his belly, putting him closer to Scruffy’s eye level. His name escaped Jacoby at that moment - there were so many to remember so quickly - but he recognized der Wolf when he saw him. “Especially for one so young. I can’t help but wonder how many operas he must have seen already to reach this point.”

“Actually, this is the first opera he’s ever attended,” Jacoby said to clarify.

“Nein!” replied der Wolf. “And already, so insightful! He’s going to go far, I can see already!”

“Absolut!” Ada said in agreement, suddenly energized again. “Oh, you simply must take in every opera zat you can, Herr Hund. It’s plain to see zat you have an amazing talent for it! Oh, I still remember fondly my first opera, Die Schneekönigin….”

That was all that it took for the entire troupe to happily recount their experiences for Scruffy, and for a change, he did not shy away from the attention, but listened so intensely that Jacoby was sure he might burst into flames. And he couldn’t help but to smile at that, and regarded the smiling pup in turn as he was regaled with tales of operas past. He really was amazing, adapting to his situation so rapidly, learning the language of signs even better than Jacoby himself in scarily two weeks of study, and even grasping advanced learning as if he’d studied them all his young life.

Like a bolt of lightning under a clear blue sky, inspiration struck, and the pieces of the puzzle suddenly fell into place.

The most recent letter from Jacoby Flynn stood apart from the others he'd sent recently in that it was sent express from Dreshden, quite the distance from Griffondorf. Unable to keep from wondering what must have been so important to justify the cost of overnight delivery, the Duchess sliced open the envelope and examined the letter inside.

Your Grace,

I had remarked in an earlier letter that Scruffy was exceptionally intelligent and keen-minded for his age. I did not, until just tonight, realize exactly how exceptional. I am ashamed to admit that his gift had escaped my notice, but he is more capable intellectually than many adults I have met. He possesses a deep and highly developed appreciation of art despite having had almost no prior exposure to it, and seems able to grasp the many nuances of opera to such a degree that many observers believed him to have had a lifetime of experience, short though it may have been, when in reality he has only just seen his first one. He has likewise shown a rapidly developed understanding of the principles of both engineering and magic, fields requiring skill sets often at odds with one another, as well as several more advanced concepts with equal aptitude. Again, he has had no prior training in either field, or at least not to the degree his understanding would otherwise imply.

I am forced to conclude now that his presence inside of a box in the basement of a warehouse in Konservenstadt is far more significant than I had initially. It is no longer my belief that he was kept there while awaiting sale or transfer, but rather than he was being held there until some as-of-yet unidentified party came to collect him. I will begin a full investigation into this matter upon my return to Griffondorf, and expect that I will require extended and complete access to any pending and closed case files maintained by your security force. I similarly expect that Aksel Krauser will be opposed to this request from the first to the last, and must ask that you be prepared to persuade him otherwise.

I do not yet believe this to be a matter of state security, but anticipate this may become a possibility, and thank you in advance for any assistance you are able to provide.

Sincerely,
Jacoby Flynn

“Hm.” With practiced precision, the Duchess folded the letter and replaced it in its envelope. “An interesting development. Thank you for delivering this to me so promptly.” As she placed the letter into her desk, Aksel Krauser inclined his head just slightly forward.

“Of course, Your Grace.”

Author's Note

This one fought me a bit, I think because I enjoy the idea of opera more than I enjoy opera.

I also had problems with Ada. As it stands, she feels a bit too much like Hänsel, although I suspect this is because she speaks with a posh, upper crust accent and has been on-screen, as it were, for all of two minutes. It’s hard to develop someone’s character in that time. (Spoiler: We have not seen the last of her)

05 - A Quiet Morning with Family

Two days later, the door to Jacoby's house opened and both he and Scruffy stepped into the foyer each carrying a suitcase (although the pup’s seemed comically undersized); Alexios had departed elsewhere for an errand and would join them shortly, he’d said. When the door closed, both griffon and diamond dog set their suitcases against the wall and, as one, gave a travel-weary sigh before slipping their jackets off. Although Scruffy had not taken to vests in the way Jacoby did, he nevertheless was just as enamored with shirts and ties and herringbone patterned jackets.

“In any case, I’m sorry you didn’t really enjoy the capitol,” Jacoby said. The pup looked at him and then signed apologetically. “Oh, don’t feel bad about it, Scruffy,” he replied as he hung up their jackets. “I don’t care much for Dreshden, either. It's a little too, too much. But I’m still glad you enjoyed the opera. And that you got on so well with Fräulein von Kess. She’s taken a real liking to you, you know?”

Scruffy only smiled sheepishly and looked down to the floor, fidgeting in embarrassment, which Jacoby grinned at before leading the pup into the house proper.

“It was nice of her to invite us to breakfast, too,” the griffon continued, turning suddenly towards the writing desk just to the side of the foyer. “I know I said her little request would be no trouble, but now I've made up my mind for certain. Let's write her a letter, right now, and ask when she hopes to go.” Knowing no verbal response would be forthcoming from the pup, but knowing what it would be nonetheless, Jacoby fished a sheet of paper from inside the desk drawer, placing on the desktop and reaching for the inkwell at the corner.

Quite suddenly, Jacoby felt Scruffy latch onto his leg, his grip like a vise. Looking down at the pup, who had fixated on the left wall, Jacoby allowed his own eyes to follow towards it. An instant later, they widened in shock and surprise and he all but whipped his body around to fully face the door of his study, and the uniformed griffon that stood there.

“Krauser?!”

“I was beginning to wonder if you were coming home at all,” Krauser replied coolly, face a mask of disinterest.

With a leonine growl, Jacoby balled his talons into a fist and slammed them down on the writing desk. An instant later, the pistol stored in the hidden compartment was in his grasp and aimed squarely at Krauser’s chest, hammer pulled back. “Breaking and entering now, Offizier? Even for you, that’s low. I would’ve thought it was perfectly clear that you are not welcome here.”

“I’m not concerned about that, Herr Flynn,” Krauser replied. It would have been impossible for him not to notice he was being threatened with a weapon, but he behaved as if there was nothing in Jacoby’s grip at all. “In fact, I was just leaving. I only let myself in to oversee the appropriation of your research.”

At that, Jacoby narrowed his eyes in thought. “What do you mean, ‘appropriation’?” he asked.

“I mean they were appropriated,” Krauser replied. “Taken from you possession to be passed along to the duchy, and from there to the police, or the army, or whomever will make the best use of them.” In an instant, he was moving away from the door to the study, careful not to make any sudden movements as Jacoby advanced towards him, pistol still trained and gesturing angrily that he should move. Scruffy was practically glued to him as he moved. Finally, still watching Krauser, Jacoby and Scruffy backed into the study and turned to look at what the other griffon had done. Beak fell opened and jaw dropped respectively:

Everything was gone.

Jacoby’s running and prepared experiments were all gone. The samples he had gathered from around the Confederation for study were missing. His research files and dossiers — years worth of collected data — had been cleared away. The back wall where once there was a map that had been covered in red and blue strings was now vacant. Most telling of all, however, were the empty shelves, completely cleared of books, several of which were rare or out-of-print Equestrian editions. All that remained was the furniture, and perhaps most insultingly of all, a half-finished bottle of absinthe resting next to an empty tumbler, a single sugar cube laid beside it.

“It was quite the undertaking.” Both Jacoby and Scruffy looked back towards Krauser, who had moved to stand just outside the study entrance. "Of course, the dog was not among those things, which is really too bad. He is far more valuable than anything else you had here. In fact, had he been here, I can safely say I would have left everything else where it was and taken only him.”

Scruffy tightened his grip around Jacoby’s leg, while Jacoby narrowed his eyes, this time in anger. “Herr Krauser, this seems suspiciously like extortion,” he said. The pistol, if only for the moment, remained pointed at the floor.

“Call it whatever you wish, Herr Flynn. Regardless of the name, I should think you can see exactly how this will play out.”

Indeed, the outcome, or at least the potential outcomes thereof were fairly obvious. Jacoby watched Krauser for a moment more, and then turned his gaze downward to the pup clinging desperately to his leg. Scruffy made no noise, but looked back up at Jacoby with watery, pleading eyes. With a defeated sigh, he wrestled his leg out of Scruffy’s grasp, and then immediately swept the pup up against his breast. Scruffy wasted no time hooked his arms around Jacoby’s neck, just as he had when they first met. When Jacoby looked at the security chief again, it was with a tight frown spread across his beak and eyes full of hate.

“Go to Hell, Krauser.” For the second time that day, the barrel of a pistol was aimed at Krauser’s chest. “Now get out of my house. The next time I see you here, you leave with the undertaker.”

For several seconds, Krauser stood and looked at Jacoby impassively. “I’m very disappointed, Herr Flynn,” he finally said, turning and walking to the front door and then letting himself out. “Auf Wiedersehen.”

The instant the door clicked shut, Jacoby all but collapsed onto the floor, rolling onto his side and squeezing Scruffy against him as if a looser grip would make him vanish, the pistol released from his grip and immediately forgotten. “It’s OK, you’re safe,” he said quietly, as much to calm the pup’s silent sobs as to settle his own nerves. “You’re safe. He’s not going to hurt you. No creature is going to hurt you. I won’t let them. I promise. I promise.” Neither of them were calmed in the slightest, and it was several minutes before the storm of emotion in Jacoby’s chest lost enough energy for him to realize just how little his lost property meant compared to the little diamond dog that he held against his chest.

Herr Flynn,

I cannot thank you enough, or in fact, at all for your donation of experiments, data and books to the duchy. You shouldn’t have, I know for a fact that you didn’t, and should the mood strike you in the future, don't. I think I know you well enough to realize you would not have done so except under duress. In any case, I have no use for your research, as it appears to be written in some sort of cipher I do not have the resources to try to understand. If I can't find use for it, the duchy has no use for it, and accordingly it has been returned to you. Your books and other effects will be returned as well. Herr Krauser has informed me that some of your research has been sent instead to the Ministry of the Army; you will have to consider this to be unrecoverable.

Krauser has also been instructed to not waste my time with a stunt like this again. The same instruction applies to you. I have too much work to do, and I do not have time to mediate whatever feud has begun between the two of you, neither do I care what prompted it. I will not repeat myself: Do not waste my time with this matter ever again —

Jacoby didn’t even bother reading the rest of the letter, slumping down onto the sofa and carelessly tossing the paper aside, arm dangling limply over the edge of the cushion. Scruffy grabbed the letter from the air before it touched the ground, neatly folded it, and then placed it on the coffee table. A moment later, it was joined by a tumbler full of brandy as Alexios placed it down. “At least it explained the delivery,” he said, turning to face the far corner. Still sitting there, where they’d been left since they'd arrived earlier, were two neat rows of eight large, wooden crates, occupying a significant portion of the living room.

“I know some of it is ‘unrecoverable’, but this much?” Alexios said, looking at the crates with disbelief he still hadn't overcome. “I don’t think this is even half of what you had before.”

“It’s not,” Jacoby replied dejectedly, “But this is what there is. At least I should have most of my research. I’ll just have to start over.” Knowing rather than sensing the griffon's distress, Scruffy placed a paw of his shoulder and gave it a firm, reassuring squeeze, just as Jacoby had so often given him; he didn't notice or react in the slightest way. Neither did he notice when Scruffy left his side, and it was only when a loud, metallic 'clang' unexpectedly rang out from near the crates that his attention was drawn anywhere at all.

And there stood Scruffy, a crowbar on the floor by his feet, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “Scruffy?” Jacoby began, interrupted by the groaning protest of wood as Scruffy lifted the crowbar up and drove its end underneath the lid of one of the crates. He pulled with everything he had, all but bouncing up and down ineffectively until Alexios stepped over to help him. Almost immediately, the crate was opened, and Jacoby watched in wonder as books were removed from inside. With a small stack of three, Scruffy turned and walked into the study. With a much larger stack in his own arms, Alexios started to follow him, but stopped and gave Jacoby a friendly smile.

“Excelsior.”

With the simple, Old Equestrian word spoken, the minotaur finally followed the pup into the study, leaving Jacoby by himself. For several seconds, he simply stared at the study doorway where they both had disappeared to. And then, a small smile graced his beak, and he rose up from the sofa and followed after them.

Author's Note

Mostly on time, despite all odds. But what's up with all this talk of "Hell"?

"Hell" is what griffons call Tartarus; a prison of eternal torment where bad griffons go. And given what history has shown us, you have to be a pretty bad griffon to go there. Telling a griffon "go to Hell" is often a sure fire way to start a fight, since it implies especially unsavory character traits about them.

Epilogue - A Letter from Far Away

Jake,

What the hell is going on? You can’t write letters like that last one and expect a positive response. I’m worried, and maybe whatever it is that’s happening is really hard for you to write about, but you have to write about these things, otherwise your friends jump to completely unreasonable conclusions about what the hell is going on, and then ask your other friends what the long-term consequences of an illegal teleport across national borders actually are.

Do you see why I might be a little upset?

Of course you can come to Ponyville for a while. We haven’t seen you for months, and whatever the hell is going on, it sounds like you need to get away from it. I can’t promise what accommodations will be like, so you should expect to be living on die Trauer Stern much of the time. I guess the only good news is that whatever the hell is going on, it can’t be too serious, otherwise you wouldn’t have mailed a letter in such a way that it would take 3 weeks to get here. This one is coming by the same method, so there.

We’ll look for you soon.

Skitch

P.S. Bring Hänsel and Alex. Rarity has a gift to give and there’s talk going around about defending the honor of the van Liefeld name, and a lot of us are getting nervous.

Author's Note

Double whammy! Mainly because it felt like cheating to make you all wait another week for what amounts to 2 drabbles and change.

All told, I actually had a pretty easy time with this one. I certainly like to think I’ve become a stronger writer over my last few projects.