Gilda observed, clicking her beak in distaste at the two young soldiers being led away to the dungeons of Griffinstone fort. She hadn’t a clue why the bastard King of Dysnomia had spared their lives, but it was just as well. The would be assassins had failed to realise that undertaking such a monumental task would require a lot more than good intentions and a couple of service pistols.

“Third attempt this month. You’d think this insolent resistance would have submitted by now, yes?” King Grognak sneered to the throne room. His battle hardened claw tightly gripped a golden staff, a large cerulean gem embedded at the top of it. A large gold crown was perched atop his head, boasting several smaller gems of different colours, though they paled in comparison to the staff’s centerpiece.

Most of his advisors murmured in agreement, though some were less enthusiastic. Gilda merely nodded, her gaze unwavering.

With a loud bang, gold met stone, and a disproportionate wave of energy blasted from the impact at the foot of the King’s throne. “They think they can kill me? They shall be shot at dawn!”

So much for mercy. Gilda closed her eyes for a few moments, slowly opening them again as she inhaled. It was rumoured that prior to gaining power over Dysnomia, Grognak had managed to defeat a beast so powerful, that he now possessed the means to overcome death itself. A lot of it could be put down to speculation, of course. Dysnomia was rife with propaganda, and there was no shortage of gullible griffins lapping it all up. But Gilda knew there might be some truth to those claims. Such truths did not bode well for anyone.

“Dismissed!” Grognak spat. His advisors wasted no time in exiting the lavishly decorated throne room, some of them even pushing their peers out of the way to get through the archway.

Gilda was quick to make herself scarce also, but a harshly barked “Colonel!” put a stop to her gait. No sign of frustration escaped her, even though she wanted nothing more to be free of his wretched presence.

“Yes, your Imperial Highness?” she uttered mechanically, stopping short of the stone archway leading out into the corridor.

The king waited until every other soul was out of earshot before continuing, albeit in a more reserved growl. “It has been brought to my attention by our spies in the west that Equestria has gained an ally.”

“Equestria has many allies,” Gilda replied, her tone as dead as those poor incarcerated griffins come dawn.

“Yes, but their most recently aquired are said to be from another world,” he croaked, leaning heavily on the arm of his throne, “and they brought a flying fortress with them.”

Gilda blinked, slowly turning to face the king. “A flying fortress?”

“My informant tells me there are four otherworldly beings that have recently been transferred to Foal Mountain along with their enormous craft. We do not yet possess the knowledge of how to disable it, bar blowing the blasted thing to pieces. Admittedly, such a feat would be…” Grognak faltered, an ugly grimace claiming his beak as he gripped his staff tightly, “-difficult, considering how well guarded the area is.”

Gilda was struck with a sense of unease. Grognak wasn’t usually one to share his secrets so freely, even with his most ‘trusted’ advisors. “Forgive me, your Imperial Highness, but why are you telling me this?”

The king let out an angry squawk, rearing up out of his throne. “We can’t blow it up, so we must find another means to disable it,” he spat, the staff now audibly creaking within his grip. He began to pace the length of the throne room. “Only two individuals are capable of flying this ship. The first is one of the aliens—a ‘human’ named Jack. These ‘humans’ are weak, and as far as we know, have no magic to speak of. He shouldn't pose much of a challenge. The second, however, may prove a little trickier. She is a unicorn by the name of Felix-”

“Felix?” Gilda repeated. That name struck a chord. A devastating chord. “White coat, pink mane and tail, choker collar with a sapphire pendant?”

Grognak stopped, turning to face Gilda with a smile. A sickeningly smug smile. “You’re familiar with her, then? Yes?”

“You want me to kill Felicity?” Gilda grimaced, her stomach churning at the very thought of attempting such an act. “But… she’s a… a… ” Gilda faltered, unable to speak of the deadly race. It was not widely known that the seemingly innocent military engineer was cursed with harbouring one of the most destructive creatures known to Equador. Dysnomian intelligence had stumbled upon the fact after a series of extremely risky operations involving sending changeling spies into the Equestrian government.

Grognak seemed to revel in Gilda’s unrest. “They’re tough, but…” he tapped a claw to the gem embedded into the top of his staff, “... not invincible.”

Gilda swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. Such a statement was true of the average siren, but Felicity was a different story. The files stolen from the Equestrian government painted a thoroughly gruesome picture, even to a griffin. The deadly unicorn had learned to control herself in recent years, but most of her early teens were spent in a spiralling dark haze of slaughter. Her mother had been completely incapable of controlling her. It was said that Princess Celestia herself had escorted Felix to the battleground—the only outlet capable of sating the desires of the beast. Entire legions of griffons—originally thought to have been missing in action at the time—were lost to the siren.

“The bug I have on the inside is a great spy, but not much of a fighter, which is why I need you to infiltrate the base and dispose of the two pilots.”

Gilda slowly nodded. The urge to finally act that had been building within her for weeks now bubbled to the surface. The war was futile, and it seemed the only one who didn’t realise it was the king. “I will leave for Foal Mountain immediately,” she said, her mechanical tone returning. This suicide mission was the last straw.

With a flick of her lion tail, Gilda finally escaped the company of the king, swiftly padding through the stone archway. Once she was out of sight, her wings spread, and she launched herself from a battlement-lined balcony at the end of the corridor.

Not five minutes later, she stealthily slipped around a corner in a dimly lit dungeon passageway, deep below the fort. A burning wooden torch on the wall cast a flickering orange glow over the floor, which was caked in dirt, and what looked like the bones of small rodents.

Gilda crouched low, slowly edging into a hallway lined with wrought-iron bars. Hiding was not a necessity, but she’d prefer not to have griffins asking questions, if she could avoid it. When she was certain there wasn’t a guard patrolling the hall, she carried on. Passing cell after cell, she finally reached one that wasn’t empty.

The two would-be assassins were laying on the floor, their feathers in disarray and their claws and paws covered in dirt. Glory, the falcon corporal of the duo, was busy whispering in hushed tones to her accomplice, Grendel, a tiercel of the same rank. Gilda rapped a claw to the bars of their cell, causing both of them to jump. A split second later, they were stood to attention, wings neatly folded, and rapping claw to breast thrice in salute.

“Colonel!” they barked in unison.

Gilda sliced a wingtip through the air. “Quiet! We don’t have much time.”

A small desk sat at the end of the corridor full of cells, on which a few dusty old bits of parchment sat. Gilda swiftly padded to it, opening several of the drawers until she found what she was looking for—several sets of spare keys. Many of them had no cell numbers, so through a system of hurried trial and error, she finally found the right one.

Glory and Grendel remained silently puzzled as the cell door slid open. “Get out. Fly far away from here, and don’t ever show your faces in Griffinstone again,” Gilda said.

The two griffins merely gave her a dumbfounded look, as though trying to figure out if Gilda was pulling their tails. After a few moments, Grendel scrambled from the cell, taking off down the corridor without so much as a backwards glance. Glory remained where she stood.

Gilda scowled. “He’s going to have you killed. Get out of here!” she urged, motioning her claws to the passageway through which Grendel had fled.

“But… w-what?” Glory stuttered, her features awash with disbelief. “Why would you?” she trialed off.

“It doesn’t matter, you need to go,” Gilda hissed, swiftly making her way to the small desk again and throwing the keys in the drawer. “And so do I.”

Passing the open cell once more at a semi sprint, Gilda made for the exit. The sooner she set off for Equestria, the less likely someone would find out she had just broken out two of Grognak’s prisoners.

“Wait! Take me with you!” Glory called, finally darting from the cell.

With a backwards glance, Gilda observed the young falcon silently stalk her pawprints, frame low and eyes peeled. Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to bring some company for this particular ‘mission’. She clicked her beak. “Fine, tag along if you must. You’ll probably live longer in Equestria anyway.”

Quiet as a whisper, the two griffins slipped from the fort of Griffinstone and out into the night.

Author's Note

Short background chapter for now.

And yes, this was split from a larger draft, so no need to throw your keyboards at me for the lack of writing. Another chapter should be posted in the next few days.