The sky was of an orange hue, the black figures of busy griffons passing by. The light of dawn was filtered through the silk curtains and their intricate designs, shafts of light cutting through the windows and their coverings into the office where Peyton sat in his comfortable, luxurious chair.
Peyton was a simple griffon in a high place of a complex system. A griffon with a navy coat and a blue plumage that was greying with age, he sat there behind his desk, claws clasped together as he stared out at the vast city of Griffinstone. Rows of buildings, both short and tall, led to the grand tree castle that was the King's residence. Peyton didn't think that the King needed such a large home, but who was he to talk about it? He lived more lavish than more than half of Griffinstone's population, being one of the Council of Griffinstone that served directly under the King.
A looming wall made of roughly cut stone bricks surrounded and protected the city, only stopping at the shore in which there were the docks and beach that little fledglings played with each other and old griffons like himself lied down to relax. Three large gates allowed ground access to anyone in the city, with hundreds of griffon guards making their rounds along the ledges of the wall. A sprawling forest covered a fourth of the city, letting anyone take a nature walk, or go past the gates and go into the more dense parts of the forest. There were, of course, paths made, but the gate that ran along the forest was still more dangerous than the other two.
He sighed, twiddling his fingers, tapping his talons together. He looked out at the sky before his gaze started straying. Framed pictures and antiques lined the deep caramel walls, including the King flying in front of the sun, Griffinstone's flag that portrayed a claw grasping a streak of lightning upon a dark velvet background, two dual axes that he had once used and a family portrait of Peyton and his son, with a brown coat and blue plumage, both smiling. He sighed, looking back at the window.
One of the passerby caught the old griffon's attention as the blot of black against the carrot canvas started to grow more defined as it came closer. It passed his sight, and there was a knock on the door that led to the landing pad, or balcony.
"Come in," Peyton said in his deep voice. The door opened a crack, then fully as a griffon burst into the room, wrinkling the entrance mat. He had a recessive black beak and claws, a dark charcoal coat and bright white plumage, purple spotting his breast and the tips of his feathers. It was only recently that he had finally entered the emergency squads, and he was the youngest griffon in history to do it. Peyton preferred to sit away from the battle, working in the city, but Benedict was quite the opposite. He was young, athletic, and a great fighter and swordsman. He grinned at Peyton and vice versa.
"Greetings, Benedict. So, how's Gilda doing?" he asked, striking up a conversation before getting to the meat of the problem.
"Oh, Mom? She's as she always is, worried for her little baby. How about you, sir? Anything happening recently?" Obviously, Benedict wanted to make some meaningless small talk before starting the actual conversation. Peyton wasn't even sure if those representatives had arrived yet.
He cracked a smile. "Ben, you don't have to call me 'sir' all the time. Don't be so formal." He cleared his throat, going into a short coughing fit before continuing. "Nothing much has gone on for a while. Tensions are always rising between us and those blasted Red Gears, though." There was a more than awkward silence between the two, the only sound coming from the ticking clock on the wall.
Finally, Peyton broke the silence with the pressing matters at claw. "Well, I suppose it's time to discuss it."
"Yeah, but why'd you call me here?" he asked, scratching the back of his head. "I mean, of all griffons, you called on me."
"Because I trust you, Benedict, and your a good man. And I believe we both know the biggest reason," he added, nodding his head to the family portrait above him. Before it elaborated, he started talking about the main issue.
"So, you've heard of the refugees that have been flowing towards us, right?" Peyton asked.
Benedict nodded. "Yeah, I actually went and looked them all over. They don't look like bad ponies, and they've been patiently waiting for us to tell them something. Half of them looked like they were starving, so I got my mom to bake a couple dozen griffin scones for them all. I know about all the tales about the Red Gear, but these ponies are... well, they're so nice! I mean, there was this one colt who had offered his meal to me, and he was skinny to the bone!"
Peyton's eyes narrowed. "How do we know that this isn't a ploy? For all we know, they could be spies for the Red Gear!"
"Peyton, your talking like that old man on Talon Avenue, always thinking up conspiracy theories," he said, waving his claw.
"Hey, it turned out to be true that the Red Gear had been trying to recruit dragons from beyond the ocean... though I suppose he is still crazy." He sighed, tapping on the desk rhythmically. "I just don't trust them."
"That's because you haven't seen them firsthand!" Benedict burst out. "I mean, they're so kind and generous, and I'm sure that they'd be loyal to us if we let them in. I mean, didn't they travel so far so they'd be away from Equestria and all the stuff that the Red Gear is 'adopting' from the ponies there?"
Before Peyton could talk, there was a knocking on the door and a griffon popped her head in.
"They're here," she said, backing away and opening the door to its full extent. As she disappeared, two ponies walked in, one a mare, the other a small filly. A small squee came from Benedict as he stared at the small purple unicorn as he put his claws up to his cheeks.
"She's so cute!" he squeaked, receiving a glance from Peyton and an awkward smile from the pegasus mare. He wasn't too sure if she was looking at him, however, because one of her eyes were straying to the left as the other remained on him, her cheeks turning a slight red. Her yellow mane was a butterscotch brown in the light of dawn that was filtered through the curtains.
Suddenly, Benedict was the one blushing, hastily scrambling to regain his posture. Peyton couldn't help to hide a smirk. "So," he began as the door behind the two closed, "I hear that you're the leader of this group, miss...?"
"Ditzy," she said, smiling sheepishly, "Ditzy Doo, and she's Dinky. I wouldn't really call myself the leader of the group, though."
"Oh, where are my manners," Peyton said, putting a claw to his chest. "Please, take a seat. And I'm Peyton, and this is Benedict." He waved at the two smaller chairs, but just as stuffed and comfortable as his own, for them to sit. They complied, nervously sitting down. It made sense that they were so anxious, after all. They and their whole group depended on this meeting.
"So, I assume that you and your daughter, er, Dinky is your daughter, right?" he stopped, looking at her. Ditzy nodded. "Ah, alright. Back on track then. So, you are wanting to immigrate to Griffinstone and make it your permanent residence, correct?"
"Oh, yes mister! It's absolutely horrible back in Equestria! Everypony's trying to murder everypony else, and those Changeling things are everywhere!" She waved a hoof for emphasis. "Us ponies have never, ever faced war before, and it just crept up on us, like a dog who stole your muffin!"
It was a weird analogy, but Peyton listened intently yet skeptically. He raised a talon and opened his mouth, but Benedict cut him off, earning himself another glare from Peyton.
"So, what happened back in Equestria?" he asked. "I mean, I've heard stories, but I've always been interested in a firsthand tale."
The grey mare paused before speaking, either raking her memory or pushing back a bad one. "Well, I had moved to Cloudsdale, it's this big city in the sky, after Ponyville had been attacked, but eventually it got overran by this one pony. I forgot her name, Rainbow Bash or something. I just don't know what went wrong with Equestria," she muttered the last bit, looking down. Dinky remained solemnly quiet.
Peyton cleared his throat. "Listen, Ditzy, I'm just going to get straight to the point. I'm not too sure about letting all of you ponies inside Griffinstone. I don't know-"
"Are you kidding me!?" Benedict burst out. "I've been to their camp and everything, didn't you hear any word I said about them starving and- Mmphmmm!"
"Shut up, Benedict!" Peyton whispered quite audibly, stuffing his hand in the younger griffon's mouth. "We still don't know whether they're trustable."
The black beaked griffon pushed his hand away. "Dang it, Peyton, your crazy!" The two griffons looked at the two ponies in front of them. Ditzy was rubbing her leg with a hoof, unsure of what to do in this awkward eavesdrop. Dinky coughed.
"Ahem, sorry about that," Peyton said, pushing Benedict back. "So, as I was saying, I don't know if you know of this yet, but have you heard of the Red Gear?"
Ditzy shook her head.
"Well, they are an enemy of Griffinstone, and a dangerous one at that. They claim that adopting Equestria's ways would grant everyone power, and brutal violence should override peaceful resolutions or reasoning. Unlike us who honor traditional griffons' ways," his chest puffed up with pride, "those blasphemous ruffians and thugs use a variety of Equestrian weapons to solve conflicts, such as these strange machines that they name as a 'flintlock pistol-'"
"Those horrible things are here too?!" Ditzy blurted out, immediately regretting it as she put both hooves to her mouth. Despite their insane worry, Peyton grinned at their common disinterest of the things.
"Sadly, yes, but not in Griffinstone. I am glad that we share a hatred for those ghastly, un-griffon items. They shouldn't exist."
"They were one of the biggest reasons of the breakdown," Ditzy muttered. "All of Equestria is just a battle field because of those things!"
Suddenly, she slammed her hooves on the desk, giving Peyton a start, and stared into his eyes. "Please, mister, we just want to live a normal life! We'll do anything to stay here, we'll help serve for you all, anything!"
Peyton was having a battle in his head. He wanted to believe them, and her words seemed so honest and emotional. But, they could still be spies! ...but, if Benedict's constant interruption was correct, these ponies were desperate and starving.
We just want to live a normal life!
Peyton's gaze strayed back from his desk to Ditzy's eyes. Benedict was shaking, waiting to hear his answer, as was Dinky.
Finally, he broke the ever-growing tension. "I... I suppose that we can let you nice bunch in," he announced.
Dinky screamed, "Yippeeeee!" as she leaped at Peyton, wrapping him in a small bear hug. He raised his hands, looking down wide-eyed as Benedict snickered. Once she had calmed down and let go, Peyton dropped the 'but' bomb.
"But," he said, "I will have to bring this up with the king real quick." Everyone in the room tilted their heads at an angle and looked at him. "I'm sure that it will be no problem, but I will still have to do it. Don't worry, I'm one hundred percent sure that he'll agree with me. I'll see to it that your people are all fed, given homes, and treated equally among us griffons. By the end of the month, you should all be assimilated with us and living a normal life here in Griffinstone in no time."
He grinned, watching the two ponies and immature griffon as they danced around happily. Ditzy caught Peyton's eye as Benedict was giving Dinky a piggyback ride. A tear slowly streamed down her eye as she said her innumerable thanks.
"I really can't thank you enough, Mister Peyton. We promise we won't let you down." She trotted closer and gave the old griffon a more expected hug.
Eventually, Ditzy got Dinky to leave with her so that she could spread the good news with the rest of her kind. Peyton already had a griffon taxi waiting for the two, ready to fly them over to their camp. Benedict soon bid farewell minutes later, leaving Peyton alone in his small but cozy office as the night sky slowly covered up dawn, stars littering the sky like glitter. He looked back up at his family portrait, grinning. Things would change.
*** *** ***
Benedict's wing beats skid to a halt as he landed on the bakery's balcony, nearly invisible in the night. The dark lavender sky's lack of light made it hard to read, but signs were set up all around the large store, each one reading Griffon Scone Superette. There was a ground level door to the shop, but that was for the shoppers. He and his mother actually lived on the second floor.
The windows were a muffled yellow, so obviously his mother was still awake. He knocked thrice before opening the door and stepping through, eager. He couldn't wait to tell his mom about the good news with the ponies.
"Hey, Mom? I'm home!" he called out, grabbing a peanut from a bowl and nibbling on it absent mindedly, rather thinking of what he'd say.
Soon enough, the door burst open as Gilda exploded out of it, a large grin on her beak. The amazing baker and outstanding mother scrambled forward and gave her little boy a hug which was swiftly returned. She had a brown coat and bore similar plumage to Benedict's, though her beak and claws were yellow rather than black.
"So, how'd it go?" she asked, unable to cap her excitement. Benedict had told her at the beginning of the day that the old council member had asked him to help him in the decision of the poor ponies waiting at the border, and ever since she had been biting at her talons.
"Amazing!" he exclaimed, closing the door behind him. "I think I helped change his mind on the old thing. The old man actually thought they could be spies."
"Nonsense," Gilda muttered. She never showed any liking to the 'old man,' but deep down, she actually liked him. Like, Like liked him. She was a single mother, so it wasn't wrong.
She jumped back, shaking Benedict. "Ooh, this calls for a special dinner tomorrow! I'll whip up some chicken wings, you know, with the hot sauce that makes your face all numb." She proceeded to make a weird bleh face, sticking out her tongue. Benedict chuckled, laughing at his mother's craziness.
"Alright, well, I'll see ya'. I wanna wake up early tomorrow so I can help the ponies move," he said, passing by and heading towards his room. Behind him, Gilda was still talking, but more to herself than anyone else.
"Oh, I can make some more batches of griffon scones for them, and I'll make a big banner that'll say, 'We happily welcome ponies!' Oh, and then I'll..."
Her voice faded and then completely quieted as Benedict shut his door behind him, shrugging out of his green cloak that he'd wore to look somewhat formal. He didn't really care to wear clothing, similar to most griffons his age, but he had to wear armor to look official if he wasn't wearing something sharp. An outfit of chainmail armor hung on a coat rack in the corner of the room, his green cloak tossed to the floor. He still hadn't gotten his own weapon yet, so he just used the soldier's armory's swords and axes.
He jumped onto the bed, bouncing a couple times before it settled. He exhaled slowly, grinning. The next day would be great.
