Griffinstone United

The black coated griffon bid his friends farewell one last time, each one waving back at him from the packed doorway. "I'll see ya' later," he called out, all of the waving griffons shouting out a similar phrase.

"See you, Bennie!"

"Have a good one, Benedict!"

"Later."

The door swung shut as Benedict went back to walking to his next destination, pebbles falling from the old stone brick building from the impact of the door. He didn't see why they didn't give the place a renovation since it was decades old. Only now had the practice arena been in high use, soldiers of Griffinstone testing their arts of combat against one another.

Benedict looked up at the grey sky, clouds blotting out the sun just enough so that there was a shade all around, but not too much so that it was a dark storm. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, panting. His tongue hung out from his black beak as he looked back at the ancient structure. Built like a coliseum, there were rooms on the whole of the first floor, everything above being benches for the seating of big events. All the way across from the entrance was the armory, there was the armory that was restricted from non-soldiers of Griffinstone, containing swords, daggers, axes you name it. Anything but the Red Gear's style of combat. Benedict preferred the daggers, however, and soon he'd finally get his own pair of them. There weren't any bows or crossbows to practice with, however; those were at the Griffinstone Range.

In a blur, he dashed towards the sky, coming to a steep stop once he was just above the arena. The nice wind ruffled his white-and-purple plumage, the tips of his feathers and his spotted chest and neck being a dark lavender. Benedict stared down at the arena, watching all of the tiny ants as they swung at each other. He smiled, thinking of what the new arena was going to look like. Only high ranking griffons like himself knew about the plans, but it was supposed to be grand, the Academy's very own.

The Academy. That brought up strange thoughts; once that group of ponies had been let into Griffinstone, they had set to work immediately, and the King himself had found a use for some of them. Particularly unicorns, but the others had also been useful, especially the earth ponies and their overwhelming strength. Benedict had learned the hard way that sparring with an earth pony in a hand-to-hoof fight was not a good idea. While he had more grace and speed, that earth pony struck with raw force that more than tripled his own.

I should probably head off now, he thought to himself, flying at a steady pace towards his next location. He pulled off the hood of his thin cloak, a symbol of a claw grasping lightning embedded in the back to let everyone around know who he was. It was a deep black, almost indistinguishable from his charcoal coat. A brown belt was strapped at his waist, but small streams of the silky fabric hung down, cut so that they were all separated. In short, a perfect example of Griffinstone's delicate and fabulous artistic taste. His standard battle armor was a chainmail top and sometimes a helmet, but that was the extent of it. He preferred to be nimble and quick, waiting in a battle to strike at the right moments while leaping back from his enemy's continuous swings, then pouncing when they're left open.

While flying, he pulled out a small pad of paper he had written on. It showed a small list of errands that he had to run, the last being Talonton, the sprawling town that Gilda was staying for her short vacation away from the big capital of Griffinstone, coincidentally called Griffinstone. Until then, however, he still had to go retrieve his order at the blacksmith's, and then he might pop in at the Range. 'Till then, he thought, stuffing the pad of paper back into his cloak's pocket, I gotta go to the ironsmith.

He smelled it before he saw it. The smell of sweat, hard work in the forges, and burnt metal. He also heard the banging of metal against metal, but it was the smell that was the most distinct. The building, made of cobblestone bricks that were less than uneven, was near the forest area of Griffinstone that took up more than a fourth of the town. After some public opinion, the King and his Council had decided to make a cavity in the great grey wall of stone that protected the city, stopping at the shorelines, as Griffinstone was a city with massive docks and a small beach of pristine sand that was like sugar. Now there was a large open gate that was expanded nearly a mile across, manned my many guards, of course, in the middle of the forest area, letting a ton of wildlife into the forest inside the wall. Now, you'd see deer and chipmunks on a regular basis in the forest inside the wall, and it was much easier to get in and out of the city.

While Benedict didn't like the grand city of Griffinstone as much as smaller villages like Plumeport or Craggle Creag, it was still the base of operations for his squad, and that was where the King, Gilda's bakery (And their home.) and the Council were. Benedict's mother had talked of moving, despite the negatives that it would bring business-wise. Sure, they'd get much less income, but they'd be able to see white-topped mountains that pierced the sky or grand waterfalls and a more wild forest rather than a grand castle and dense streets.

The northernmost part of Griffinstone were grassy fields, that was where the Griffinstone Range was, but outside the city was still so much more than this, at least to him. The next biggest city was Talonton, and it was much less dense than Griffinstone. Not to mention, it was located in a hilly, lush forest, and it was close to Griffinstone, so it'd be quick travel from one another. Even better, it was where the Academy was, though this was a closely guarded secret and would be revealed to the public once it was completely finished. There were also more ponies there than there was in Griffinstone, making it a diverse mixing pot. Until then, they picked out certain ponies and griffons who could help in creating the place. It was the perfect home, at least to Benedict, and it was also the location of the picnic Gilda had been planning. And as another plus, it even had its own archery range and practice arena.

The griffon shook away these thoughts as he landed right in front of the cobbled together shack, a large plume of smoke rising from a chimney. Eager for his order, he knocked on the rough, wooden door thrice. There was a pause in the rhythmic slamming of hot metal on an anvil as someone inside was stepping towards the door. This really needs a sandpapering, Benedict thought as the door opened to reveal a buff but short griffon. Benedict was at least a head taller than him, who had a tan plumage with a coffee brown coat. He grinned when he tilted his ash-smeared face up at the hulking figure that was Benedict.

"Bennie, I just finished yer' order an hour ago! Come in, come in," he ushered him in, a blast of heat encompassing him as he was pushed in. The door shut behind him, making the only light in the room come from a blazing fire, a beam of metal currently hanging over the tiny rock platforms.

"Hey, Irvin, how's it going?" Benedict said as the short griffon bustled about his small workplace, opening a door and rummaging through racks of gear. While he was one of the less popular forgers, he did an amazing job at it for much less steep prices than the others did, him and his humble little shack.

He tossed a large rock behind him while he dug through a trunk. "Well, I think you'll like yer' custom order. I've been slaving over it for the past few weeks, an' business's been booming since last month, what, with all these ponies who've been interested in my wares." He spoke in a high but gravelly voice that was unfitting for a griffon of his size, and when he said 'booming,' he meant that he had more than two or three orders.

"That's good," Benedict said absent-mindedly, looking around the dim room. The red hearth glowed, embers floating about. An iron workbench lied in the corner of the room, a red-hot piece of metal hanging off of it at a bent angle, a hammer right next to it.

"You know, some of the earth ponies 'v been looking fer' work in here, but I don't think I could fit any other people in here other than me'self for a whole day. It'd be a clustered mess, it would." His body perked up and he pulled his head out from the doorway, holding two leather-sheathed blades. Benedict took them, wide eyed as he slid one out from its case. With jagged yet smooth edges, the black blade shined in the firelight, a decorated handle fitting comfortably in Benedict's claws. He looked up at the silent midget who waited for his approval, a grin on his face from his customer's initial reaction.

"Irvin, this is amazing," Benedict praised, spinning it around in his hand.

"Oh, thank you Ben, I couldn't appreciate ye' better." Benedict inspected the finely crafted weapon as Irvin described it in his odd voice. "Twin daggers with some expensive and unique blades made from a carefully crafted mix of obsidian and steel."

Many had their own likings and hobbies. Fashion, architecture, everyone had their own thing that they thought of as a beautiful art. You could judge someone else of theirs easily, as could someone else do to your favorite. Even though he never actually forged or made his own creation in it, forging was something Benedict appreciated greatly. While some may think of it as something normal, Benedict marveled at the craft of forging. The twin daggers that he held in his hands were a perfect example of the art that forging created.

"Say, need anything else done?" Irvin asked, awaiting orders.

Benedict snickered, shaking his head as he snapped the daggers onto his belt. "No, I think I'm good. Hey, I got a tight schedule right now, but let's hang out some time, eh? Scurrying around and being cramped in this hovel can't be good for you. Get some sunlight," he said. Irvin laughed back at him in a deep, throaty chuckle.

"Ah, but that's what I'm best at, scurrying around and being cramped. Well, have a good one, Bennie." He walked out, the door slamming behind him as the noises of metal clangs returned. Irvin was weird, but he was a good man. And a damn good blacksmith, if Benedict had to say himself. Of course, the ultimate test is in efficiency and durability, not just beauty.

Once again, Benedict zoomed towards the barrier of clouds, ready for his wings to carry him to Talonton; he'd skip the Griffinstone Range. He soared through the air, squinting his eyes against the rush of wind. Now much higher than the arena, he had a breathtaking view of the surrounding dense forests, the tips of mountains just below the heavens in the distance. He glided over the wall of Griffinstone, patrolling guards waving at his passing. The dark fluff above roiled about, threatening with a storm that was soon to come. He could only hope that this didn't happen before the picnic.

———

"About time," the purple-spotted griffon scolded her approaching son. "For a moment I thought you wouldn't come." There was a chilly breeze that shook the nearby trees as she spoke, the grass alive and dancing around the two. While Benedict didn't mind the cold, he still tightened his cloak as he landed, lessening the draft that passed through his back. The sky above hadn't let up, but it wasn't any worse.

"Sorry, Mom, was busy," he said, lying down on the velvet-white checkered blanket that had been laid out, two weaved baskets right beside Benedict's head. He rolled over, fanning out his wings while leaning his head on his hands, his gaze shifting from Gilda to the two baskets, the enticing aroma that came from them not going unnoticed. "So, what'cha make?"

Gilda immediately lit up; she loved everything about cooking and baking. It was her passion. Give her a loaf of bread and a carrot, and she'd make an elaborate cake that tasted better than anything the hoity-toity griffons in the other bakeries sold. She could probably sway someone into drinking poisoned mead when they knew it was contaminated by spicing it up a bit.

"Well, I made a dozen of my griffon scones, some jerky, this amazing peach tea and a couple ribs fresh off the barbecue." Under her breath, she muttered, "Though, maybe they'd be more fresh if you'd gotten here quicker."

"Hey, do you wanna hear the scoop or not," Benedict said jokingly, immediately digging into the basket and snatching some jerky.

Gilda put out two bronze mugs, pouring the golden-pink honey-sweet liquid into them as she chuckled. "Alright, you win." She only took a moment to finish before passing one to Benedict, then grabbing herself some saucy ribs and plopping them on her plate; there were about a dozen inside the one basket, which might seem like a lot to someone, but Gilda had always had a large appetite, and the trait had been passed on. She clapped her hands, rubbing them together, a grin that belonged to a child on her face. "So, what's been going on with everything?"

Benedict made his mother wait for an excruciatingly long time before swallowing the salty jerky and taking a gulp from his cup. "Well, you remember what I told you about the Academy, right?"

"Yeah, of course. Don't worry, I didn't tell anyone." Gilda put her claws up to her beak, making a gesture to zip it shut. Benedict had really told her little about it, other than the fact that it had to do with magic and it was a secret. "So, what about it?"

"Well, they've been picking out more griffons and some non-unicorn ponies who could keep a secret and were interested. I heard that they've finally got their first class of mages properly trained with simple spells."

Her jaw dropped. "Griffons? And magic? That's... well, that's awesome! But how in the world would it work?"

Benedict had been awaiting this question, for he had only learned the answer last night. "Okay, so unicorns would use their magic to... like... bless gemstones and crystals, which would then be used for staffs. That, or someone would draw power from it, but they'd still need the gemstone handy, which is why it's easy to have it implemented as a staff. From there, it grants the user magic, and it only takes a bit of training before they can work without a gemstone at all times... or something like that."

He had to stifle his chuckle from his mother's reaction. Her pupils had turned to pinpricks, mouth wide enough for Benedict to put his head inside. He had to wave his hand in front of her face before she blinked, shaking her head.

"Sorry, that's just so..."

"Amazing?" Benedict finished, Gilda nodding earnestly.

"It's just, well, I never thought of it to be real! And what's it called?"

He shrugged. "Well, it doesn't really have a name, besides the Academy. I hear that the King's got his Council to put nearly half of the kingdom's funds into the place, trying to make it as grand as possible, besides being hidden away in the grove not too far from here. For research of other certain categories, I've heard."

Rather than another lowering of her jaw, she just looked out at the meadow that stretched across her vision. Talonton was one of the largest cities in Griffinstone, true, but it was mostly farmland and a small amount of actual city. "We've really progressed, haven't we?" She proceeded to nibble on a rib as Benedict scooted over, looking out over the fields and at the mountains that pierced the heavens.

"Mhm," he said softly, taking a sip from his tea. Dang, that's good tea!

A certain topic crossed his mind as they looked out at the fascinating landscape. One that he'd been meaning to talk about earlier, but was afraid of the reaction Gilda would give.

"Er, Mom?" he asked, her mother turning at the mentioning of her name. "It's crossed my mind a bit, but what if we moved out here in Talonton? You know, away from the bustling city." It was partly pathetic that he still lived with his mother, but he had no other place to sleep yet, and he loved his mother. He didn't want to leave her, as childish as it was.

"Bennie, that's," she paused, looking for the right words, Benedict wincing for the upcoming words, "well, that's exactly what I've been wanting to do!"

"Wait, what?" he asked, giving Gilda a puzzled look.

"What is it?"

"Well, I guess I just expected a different answer from you," he said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Oh, I see," Gilda said, chuckling. "This is about me and Peyton, isn't it?"

"Wait, what?!" he repeated.

She raised a skeptic eyebrow. "Oh, come on Bennie. I've seen the looks you give me when he's around, and I know how awkward you are when we're together." She smirked, pulling her little boy closer. "I know it's weird for you, trust me, I've been in your place as a kid, but you still can't not admit how handsome he is."

Benedict's eyes twitched, and only after Gilda's burst of laughter did he realize it was a joke. "Very funny," he muttered, although he did eventually crack a smile at his mother's goofiness. Only Gilda, he shook his head, raising his ribs to his beak, ready to chomp down.

"Benediiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiict!"

"What was that?" Gilda asked, looking around. Benedict frowned at the calling of his name, scanning the sky, where it had come from. Two tiny dots were slowly growing, and it took him a moment to realize that they weren't just dots, but two griffons. He leaped out of the way, Gilda doing likewise as the screaming figures crashed to the ground, one of them smashing into the rib-filled basket headfirst. The second, a dark navy griffon with arctic blue plumage and light markings on her face, scrambled to her feet, watching as her partner skid to a screeching halt, the basket stuck to her head, a long imprint left in the dirt from where she'd slid. Her figure was wrapped up in the checkered sheet, one wing sticking out. Envelopes littered the ground.

Gilda rushed over to help, despite the ruin to all of her hard cooking. Benedict did the same, working on untangling the griffon...

...until he realized that it wasn't a griffon, but a pegasus. And a familiar one.

"Whoops!" an unsteady voice from the basket proclaimed. Benedict raised the palm of his hand to his face. It was none other than Ditzy Doo the mail mare.

"Ditzy," Benedict mumbled, working on untangling her as Gilda was tugging on the basket, watching with horror as multiple sauce-covered ribs hit the dirt. Gabriella stood there, pumping her fists in the air.

"Yes, I told you I'd make it first!" she said, gloating at the blind pegasus. Ditzy got up dizzily, ignoring Gilda's helping hand, as she started making her way towards the mailgriffon.

"No, I landed first!" she said, holding up a hoof before toppling over. Gilda once again tried taking the basket off, yanking Ditzy's head back in the process. "Ow!"

"It doesn't count if you crash," she said, pointing at the trail Ditzy had left behind. The basket finally came off with a pop, Ditzy immediately getting up and facing towards the griffon, putting a hoof on her chest.

"I still landed first," she said, poking her with each word. Benedict walked over, holding his beak in two claws while breaking the two apart.

"Can I ask why you were in such a rush that you had to destroy our picnic?" he asked, irked as he raised a claw towards the demolished area where Gilda had walked over to pick up the other basket which had been tipped over but remained closed.

One of Ditzy's eyes went to the right until her muzzle crumbled up. "Oh, right!" she said, searching through her disheveled mailbag and holding an envelope in her teeth. Gabby snatched it from her mouth, however, proffering it for Benedict to pick up.

"Hey!" Ditzy said, pouting as Benedict grabbed the paper and looked it over, irritated.

"There was still no reason..." He stopped, staring at the exquisite A that had been stamped into the envelope; this was sent by none other than the Academy.

Gilda noticed the silence, walking over and peering at the paper from over his shoulder. "Who's it from?"

"The Academy," he mumbled. Why would they send a letter to me now? Suddenly, he looked at the two griffons and mare, tucking the envelope in his cloak and getting in a position to dash towards the sky.

"I've gotta go," he said. Without another word, he zoomed off, leaving Gilda to watch the two mail deliverers fight over who won their little competition.