God Save the King

by Deutsch Brony

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Alternate Universe, Romance, Drama
Length: 6719

The adventures of a bastard child who, by sheer chance, goes from being homeless on the streets of Trottingham to being King of Great Griffin.

The Griffish Isles, while inhabited primarily by ponies, are a completely separate political entity from Equestria, and has developed very differently from the mainland. Independent from the rule of Celestia, the Griffish have created a completely different identity, influenced by missionaries and conquerors from nearby Prance. It is a place of piety and splendor, with great economic and military power; however, while the Griffish ponies have made great progress advancing their society, they are plagued with many problems unheard of in Equestria.

Poverty and homelessness are rampant, with the poor living in dirty slums and backwater hovels. Public health and sanitation are in a wretched state, with disease being a frequent problem, especially in the poorer neighborhoods. Crime is out of control, with large numbers of ponies turning to thievery and worse to make a living. The wealthy aristocracy of Great Griffin has largely ignored the problems faced by the peasantry for many years, neglecting their needs almost entirely, with major class divisions existing in the feudal Kingdom.

This is the story of a young griffin named Valiant, who, following the recent death of the King of Great Griffin, inherits the Griffish crown and must deal with his country's many problems, while simultaneously dealing with political intrigues within his government as he strives for the betterment of his nation.

Warning: This story will heavily feature topics which some people might not want to read, foremost among which is real-life religion (most notably, Christianity and Islam). Religious zeal will be a major theme throughout this story; as such, if you are an anti-theist who gets disgusted by so much as reading the word God, I recommend you spend your time reading some other story. Male homosexuality will also be a (less major) theme throughout this story; if you despise same-sex male relationships, your enjoyment of this story will be greatly lessened.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2016-12-05 10:36:20 UTC

The Beginning

I awoke to a bleak day, as always. It was raining (as always), but that wasn't what made the day dark and desolate. I had the utter misfortune of living in destitute poverty, homeless on the streets of Trottingham, one of the many impoverished and unemployed ponies in the big cities of Great Griffin. I would awaken every day to find hunger, thirst, and sorrow in bountiful quantities, while hope of a better life diminished with every passing second.

Ah, but I haven’t even introduced myself, have I? My name is Valiant; I’m a pure white griffin, with blue eyes. I was born in the Griffish Isles, in the capital city of Trottingham. Most of the inhabitants of the Isles (named as a result of the griffin aristocracy which had ruled the region since Duke William of Noremaredy had conquered it) were ponies; griffins like myself were a minority. I never met my family; as far back as I can remember, I had been an orphan. For reasons that would remain unknown to me throughout my youth, I was abandoned by my parents and left in the care of the local orphanage, which is where I had spent most of my life up until recently. I just turned sixteen years old a few weeks ago, which is when I had to behind the orphanage and strike out on my own.

I woke up, but I didn’t get up; I kept lying down on the patch of dirt I had been sleeping on, not having the energy to do anything else. I had been lacking any kind of motivation for quite some time; living a harsh life as an orphan, and then going into poverty and homelessness tends to take away one’s desire to get up in the morning. Ponies walked to and fro on the streets around me, carrying out a variety of tasks; I tried to ignore them, and the noise they made, to the best of my ability.

After a few moments of me idly lying on the ground, I couldn’t help but overhear something very interesting. The town crier was walking by, making an announcement to the whole town; it was an uncommon sight, and only happened when something very important had occurred.

“Hear ye, hear ye! His Royal Majesty, King Philippe the Second, has tragically passed away! He died of old age, last night!” the town crier shouted. Ponies gasped in shock, and started gossiping and speculating; it was a major occurrence to have the ruler of the Griffish Isles die. It was especially important news seeing as King Philippe had no legitimate children to pass the throne to. A large crowd started gathering around the crier; I got up and simply listened and observed from a distance.

“Although he had named no official heir, the royal household has announced the existence of a child of the late King, the existence of whom has been kept secret until now, that will inherit the Crown! Though the identity of the child has not yet been revealed, the royal household assures everypony that his or her identity will be announced publicly very shortly!” the crier continued.

I couldn’t help but feel envious towards the lucky bastard who was going to take over the throne. I wished that I could be lucky enough to just inherit a massive fortune, although I knew it was never going to happen; I didn’t even know who my family was. We aren’t all fortunate enough to have a family at all, let alone a wealthy family of nobleponies.

As the crowds dispersed and carried on with their daily activities, I laid myself back down on the ground. I took a drink from a bowl of dirty water I kept next to me, and, not having much of anything else to do, I laid back down and returned to sleep. Some period of time later, I found myself waking up once more; this time, I had been woken up by somepony else.

“Ahem. You are Sir Valiant, correct?” a mysterious stranger said to me. He was a white unicorn stallion with a brown mane and green eyes, wearing a fancy suit and top hat, with a stack of paperwork for a cutie-mark, speaking with a fancy gentlecolt’s accent.

“That depends; who wants to know, and why?” I asked, looking down at the ground and nervously rubbing my talons together. Unlike most folk from Trottingham, I didn’t have much of an accent; I normally spoke with a very neutral voice.

“My name is Pen Stroke, sir; I am the steward for the royal court. I am here on important official business on behalf of the Crown.” the stallion introduced.

“Very well, I’m Valiant. What business could a representative of the government possibly have with a nopony like me?” I asked.

“I would like to announce that you are the sole child of the late King Philippe, making you the next in line to inherit the Kingdom of Great Griffin. Bastards are not normally eligible for the throne, but, seeing as there are no legitimate heirs, the Crown falls upon you.” Pen Stroke explained.

I just stared at him for a few moments, expecting him to shout ‘gotcha’ and start laughing at any moment. After several seconds of him continuing to look down at me with a completely serious expression, I gave a dumbfounded response.

“You’re joking. I’m a homeless orphan; I’m not royalty. Don’t you government ponies have anything better to do than go around making jokes like this?” I said.

“I assure you, sir, that this is no joke. I have documentation proving that you are the bastard son of King Philippe.” Pen Stroke asserted, pulling a rolled up piece of paper out of his saddlebag and presenting it to me.

It was a letter of some kind, covered in fancy writing. Unfortunately, I couldn’t read a word of it; not because it had illegible writing, but because I couldn’t actually read anything at all. I was illiterate, as the result of poor education and neglect from the orphanage I had been raised in. I did, however, notice the royal seal stamped on the bottom of the page, which lent some credibility to the stallion’s statement.

“I, uh…I can’t read this.” I said, looking away.

“What? Why not? Did you never learn to read cursive?” Pen Stroke asked.

“I never learned to read at all…” I admitted.

“Damn it, you’re illiterate! I told the King that it was a terrible idea to send his only heir to some third-rate orphanage, and it would seem as though I was completely right. This is going to reflect terribly on the Crown.” Pen Stroke exclaimed. I just kept looking down at the ground, feeling ashamed.

“Very well, allow me to narrate the contents of this letter for you. It is addressed to Helping Hoof, the mistress of the orphanage you were sent to. Ahem: Dear Helping Hoof, it is with great sorrow that I must announce to you the birth of my bastard son, Valiant, the result of my escapades with one of the castle servants. Were it to be made public that I have been committing adultery, especially with lowly servants, it would be a major blow to the reputation and prestige of the royal court; to have a bastard child be created from such an illegitimate relationship would be an even more devastating blow. It is for this reason that I must insist that you take my son into the orphanage, and forge documentation which claims he was abandoned by unknown parents. It is of the utmost importance that my fatherhood of the boy be concealed at any and all costs; the legitimacy of my dynasty would be greatly shaken if it were discovered. With any luck, my wife will finally be able to bear a legitimate heir at some point in the future. I shall, of course, be making a generous donation to the orphanage as a means of making it worth your while to help conceal my extramarital activities. Yours Truly, Philippe the Second of the House of Trastámare-a, King and Sovereign Monarch over all the Griffish Isles.” Pen Stroke narrated.

“By Providence, I suppose it’s true, then; I really am part of the nobility.” I said, barely able to believe it.

“Indeed; you will be crowned as the King of all Great Griffin, subject to the will of Providence alone.” Pen Stroke said.

“But I don’t know anything about being a leader! I can’t even read, let alone rule an entire kingdom!” I exclaimed, greatly doubting my merits for the position which had been offered to me.

“You need not worry, sir; my job as steward is to oversee the royal administration. I, alongside the other members of your royal cabinet, will offer my advice on all matters pertaining to your governance of the state. On a related note, I’ll also find somepony to give you a proper education and deal with the problem of you being illiterate. Now, come with me; I will escort you to Trottingham Castle, where we can begin preparing you for your coronation.” Pen Stroke explained before turning around and beginning the walk to the royal castle at the center of town.

Without further comment, I followed Pen Stroke, my mind full of anticipation and excitement over my upcoming new life.

A New Life

The castle was a truly impressive sight; a huge structure, with stone spires stretching up into the sky. Its walls were high and wide, surrounding the large keep in the center, with battlements and towers stretching along its length, built to be an impenetrable barrier against any foe on the ground. The keep itself was on an artificial island, surrounded by a moat in addition to the outer walls, and it was a very tall structure, with many tall spires protruding into the sky, somewhat similar to the Crystal Palace in design (with the obvious difference of the keep being built out of stone). To protect against an invading army of griffins or pegasi, a magic shield was placed over the castle, preventing invaders from simply flying over the walls. There were two gatehouses on the outer walls; one large gatehouse serving as the main entrance, and a smaller gatehouse in the back to serve as a secondary entrance. Two drawbridges were used to provide access to the keep in the center.

"Magnificent, isn't it? This castle has served as the royal residence of the Kings of Great Griffin for over four hundred years; it is the finest abode in all the land." Pen Stroke commented as I admired the grand structure before me.

I said nothing in response; instead, I simply continued silently following him, and continued gawking at the castle. I had lived in Trottingham all my life, but I had never seen the royal castle before. The city was very heavily divided by class; impoverished and homeless ponies like me were typically stuck in filth-ridden slums, full of disease and trash. Access to the nice parts of town was restricted, with only wealthy or highborn ponies being allowed into them. Up until now, I had never been allowed near the castle, or any of the other decent parts of town. I was, of course, appreciative to finally get a chance to live without fear of famine or plague, but I couldn't help but be reminded of the struggles and troubles of the poor.

Without delay, Pen Stroke and I approached the gate guards. As we approached, Pen Stroke was questioned by one of the guards.

"Sir Pen Stroke, who exactly is this griffin with you?" the guard said, staring at me. I immediately felt extremely uncomfortable, freezing up with anxiety and staring down at the cobblestone ground under me.

"You are looking at Sir Valiant, heir apparent to the throne, soon to be King Valiant." Pen Stroke explained. The guard took a moment to examine me, looking obviously skeptical as he did so.

"This is Philippe's heir? Fine; I suppose you'd know better than I would, being the royal steward. You may proceed." the guard said before he and his comrades opened the gate for us. I really wasn't surprised at his skepticism; I didn't look even remotely regal. I was covered in dirt and hadn't properly bathed in weeks, I was very underweight as the result of malnutrition, my feathers were completely ruffled and unkempt, and I was completely naked. I certainly did not look the part of a noble.

Feeling a complete lack of confidence, I kept following Pen Stroke, who led me through the castle courtyard into the keep. The interior of the keep was quite elegant, to say the least. Fine red carpeting covered the floor, while statues of former rulers of the Trastámare-a dynasty and ornate paintings lined the walls. Branching off from the hallways were many richly decorated rooms fulfilling a variety of purposes, all of which were full of expensive looking furniture. Chandeliers were hung in every room, and the hallways were lit by torches mounted to the walls.

"Well, now that we've arrived at our destination I believe it's time to do something about your appearance. I'll fetch some of the servants to properly bathe and groom you, then we'll have the royal tailor measure you and begin working on some royal vestments for you to wear to your coronation." Pen Stroke said.

"I can bathe myself, you know; I'm not a child." I complained, subtly rubbing a hoof against the carpet.

"But, sir, it's unbecoming of a noble such as yourself to manually perform such tasks; it's traditional for servants to handle it for you." Pen Stroke said.

"To Tartarus with the damn traditions, I say. If I'm going to be the King, I'm not wasting the state's money on worthless frivolities like paying servants to do things I ought to be doing myself." I asserted. I really didn't like the idea of paying ponies to do incredibly simple tasks for me; not only was it a complete waste of money (a waste of taxpony money, no less), I just plain and simple didn't like being around strangers or having strangers do things for me. I knew I would be entirely uncomfortable letting servants baby me all the time, so I found the confidence to tell Pen Stroke as much.

"Ugh, fine, sir; if you absolutely insist on violating noble traditions, I suppose there's not much I can do about it. I'll just have to fire a few servants and readjust the staff budget, if you're going to be doing menial tasks yourself. Alright, follow me, then; I'll take you to the castle bathhouse, and you can bathe and groom yourself." Pen Stroke told me with a frustrated sigh.

He proceeded to lead me down the hall, into a large, high-ceilinged room covered in ceramic tiling, with a large, deep pool of slightly steaming water in the center. Several wooden cabinets, multiple racks of towels and bath robes, buckets, and wash basins were placed throughout the room.

"Here we are, sir, the castle bathhouse. This room was built over a natural hot spring, as you can see in the center, allowing an unlimited supply of warm water for bathing. You'll find soaps, brushes, washcloths, and other such supplies inside the cabinets. I'll return in an hour or so; I trust you'll be able to thoroughly clean yourself in that time." Pen Stroke said before turning and walking off.

After Pen Stroke left and gave me some privacy, I got to work giving myself the first bath I had had in over a month. It took quite a bit of scrubbing, and a lot of soap, but I was eventually able to remove the copious quantities of dirt and grime from my body, restoring my fur to it's natural white color, getting myself nice and clean. I also took the time to preen myself, making my feathers and wings more presentable-looking. I still didn't look the part of a king, but I looked far better than I did before; I no longer looked like a beggar from the slums, which was a good start towards gaining the royal appearance which was expected of me.

"Ah, good, I see you've finished. Now that you're no longer coated in filth, it's time to see the royal tailor; I'm sure she is very eager to start working on your attire. Please, follow me, sir." Pen Stroke said, walking through the door just as I was finishing drying myself.

Without any comment, I followed Pen Stroke, the stallion leading me down the hall into a moderately sized room full of mannequins, spools of fabric, racks of clothes, sewing needles, and other such tailoring-related materials. In the room, busy sorting through a stack of papers, was a dark brown unicorn mare with a light brown mane, light blue eyes, and a sewing needle for a cutie-mark.

"Ahem. Miss Stitch?" Pen Stroke said, catching the attention of the mare.

"Oh, hello! This must be Philippe's heir you told me about; here for coronation attire, I'm sure." the mare said, magically grabbing a measuring stick, a quill and ink, and a blank piece of parchment before walking over to me.

"My name is Swift Stitch, sir; I'm the royal tailor. If you would just stand still for a moment, I'll get your measurements completed, then I'll get to work making a stunning outfit for you to wear for the coronation ceremony." the mare said, getting up close to me and starting to take measurements.

I felt very uncomfortable very quickly with the mare violating my personal space and touching me, but I didn't voice my complaints. I didn't like being touched, and I really didn't like being around strangers, but, figuring it was best to just get it over with, I decided not to say anything. Quietly, I just let Swift Stitch finish her work and held still for her, hoping to myself that she'd finish as quickly as possible. Thankfully, she didn't take too long to finish taking the measurements and writing them down.

"My my, you are certainly quite thin. I know the Church says temperance is a virtue, but you really ought to consider eating more, sir." Swift Stitch commented as she set down her measuring stick and writing utensils on her desk.

After hearing her comment, I was reminded that I hadn't eaten at all during the last two days (a common theme for the impoverished in Great Griffin). I decided to say something, in the hopes of getting a good meal for the first time in quite some time.

"Speaking of eating, I'm quite famished." I commented to Pen Stroke.

"Ah, of course, sir; I'll have the castle cooks start preparing dinner right away. While we wait for them to finish, I will explain your rights, duties, and statuses as King; after all, it is quite important that you understand your position." Pen Stroke said.

He proceeded to fetch a few of the castle servants, and had them begin preparing to cook for me. After that, he proceeded to lead me up several flights of spiraling staircases to the highest tower of the castle (which served as my own personal quarters). It was divided into three tiers; a bedchamber at the top (with a view overlooking all of Trottingham), a private study in the middle (full of books, writing utensils, and other study materials, almost all of which were completely useless to me), and a private dining area at the bottom (separate from the main dining hall of the castle). They were all extraordinarily luxurious, full of rich mahogany furniture, lit by diamond chandeliers, covered with exotic carpets with elaborate designs, coated with gilded walls lined with famous artwork. It was a quite spectacular sight, unlike anything else I had ever seen before.

Pen Stroke sat down with me at the extravagant table in the dining area, and started speaking.

"Alright, now, allow me to explain your role as monarch of Great Griffin. As King, you shall have multiple important rights and duties to exercise. Firstly, you'll be in charge of appointing the Prime Minister; it shall also be within your rights to remove and replace the presiding Prime Minister at any point. Secondly, you will become Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Griffish military, and will be expected to oversee all military operations within the country. Thirdly, it shall be your right to propose legislation to Parliament, which may approve, amend, or reject any proposition. Similarly, you shall have the right to veto any piece of legislation passed by Parliament. Fourthly, you shall preside over all diplomatic operations of the state, and will be expected to deal with any foreign dignitaries visiting the country. Finally, as King, you will become the head of the Church of Trottingham, and will have final authority over all theological and ecclesiastical matters in our country. Any questions?" Pen Stroke said.

"If I wanted to implement reforms, how would I be able to get Parliament to go along with it?" I asked. Having experienced the plights of the poor for myself, I had resolved to try and alleviate the suffering of the lower class in Trottingham and elsewhere as soon as I was crowned King. Most of the nobles in Great Griffin were incredibly sheltered, having little knowledge or understanding of what impoverished ponies had to go through in our country; I was obviously not among those nobles. I didn't care much about other ponies in general, typically, but I had seen for myself that the living conditions of the lower classes had become a major problem, and I wanted to fix it.

"Well, to be honest, dealing with Parliament is mostly just a matter of bribery. Some MPs will support legislation based on merit, but most need to be convinced with gifts or little concessions to win them over. It's normally most effective to just hand out money to them, but, sometimes, they'll ask for something different, such as being given a special title or having a relative placed in a government position. As long as you're willing and able to hand out bribes, Parliament will typically support any legislation the Crown proposes." Pen Stroke said.

"As for me being Commander-in-Chief, does that mean I'll need to personally direct our army in the event of war?" I asked.

"The Royal Officer Corps will do most of the work if you are unwilling or unable to serve as a commander on the battlefield, though you will, of course, be welcome to manually direct things if you so prefer. Part of your role of Commander-in-Chief will also be the power to make declarations of war, and decide which general's strategy to implement against any future enemies." Pen Stroke answered.

"And, about the whole diplomacy thing...Do I really need to talk to foreign diplomats myself? Can't I just get the royal diplomatic corp to handle it for me?" I asked.

"Well, I suppose you could, but it's a matter of tradition for the monarch to personally handle visits from dignitaries; it would reflect poorly on your image to place other ponies in charge of your diplomatic responsibilities." Pen Stroke replied.

"One last thing: What will my responsibilities within the Church involve?" I asked.

"As Supreme Governor of the Church, your primary duty is the appointment of bishops, most important among which is the Archbishop of Canterpony, the most senior bishop within the Church. You will also have the authority to make changes to current Church doctrines, or establish formal Church positions on an issue, although I would recommend against meddling in clerical affairs for the time being; the clergy likely won't be particularly happy to have their rites changed by a monarch who is incapable of even reading the scriptures." Pen Stroke said.

"Right, of course. I suppose I don't have any more questions." I said.

Before Pen Stroke could say anything else, there was a knock on the door. Four servants proceeded to enter the room, carrying silver platters full of food and setting them down on the table. They covered the large table with every kind of dish imaginable, ranging from cucumber sandwiches to éclairs to caviar. It was more food than I would normally eat in a month, all laid out on gilded plates with fancy silverware. The servants all gave a respectful bow after placing everything, and then proceeded to exit the room.

"Why is there so much food here?" I asked.

"What do you mean? This is the standard size of a typical royal dinner." Pen Stroke responded.

"Gluttony is a sin, Pen Stroke; nobody needs to eat this much." I said.

"If you wish, I can tell the castle cooking staff to serve more minimalistic meals in the future. You are, after all, the soon-to-be King; it is entirely within your power to choose what the cooks serve you." Pen Stroke offered.

"Yes, please, do so." I said. After years of malnutrition, going with little to no food on a regular basis, it just rubbed me the wrong way to have massive, wasteful feasts when I knew from personal experience that there were so many ponies who weren't fortunate enough to have food at all. Besides, it was the will of divine Providence that ponies eat only what they need and not engage in gluttonous over-indulgence.

Having said everything I needed to, I proceeded to eat dinner, enjoying the first good meal I had had in such a long time. It was a nice feeling, having a plentiful amount of food, although I was a bit less than pleased with the decadent noble lifestyle of having such unnecessary volumes of it in a world where so many suffered from hunger.

Coronation

It had been about a week since Pen Stroke approached me and informed me of my royal status. The word had been spread throughout Great Griffin that I was the heir to the throne, and preparations were quickly made for my coronation ceremony. Aristocrats and other well-to-do griffins and ponies from all throughout the Isles flocked to Trottingham for their chance to see the ceremony and be introduced to their new monarch. There was, of course, a lot of negative reactions from the fact that a bastard was going to become King, but there was nothing I could do about them. I just tried not to think about the folk who questioned my legitimacy as monarch, and focused on my coronation, which was mere moments away from starting. It was a sunny day, for once; a good omen for my rule.

"By the King, a proclamation: Declaring His Majesty's measure touching his royal coronation and the solemnity thereof, that all his realm shall know the King is to be crowned." the royal criers proclaimed throughout Trottingham. Trumpeters throughout the city sounded their horns, music filling the streets, as the announcements were made that I was to be crowned.

Normally, the coronation of the new King would be much later; it was traditional to wait until several months after the death of the last monarch before holding an official coronation. By holding an early coronation ceremony, I was breaking tradition, which was quite fitting for me; my ascension to the throne at all was a break from tradition, on account of the fact that bastards were normally ineligible for inheritance. The more traditionalist nobles weren't happy about the early ceremony, but they weren't going to support my reign to begin with; they were the kinds of ponies who would reject my legitimacy on account of the fact that I was a bastard, and wouldn't like me even if I upheld every other tradition, anyway.

With the proclamation made throughout Trottingham, I was escorted out of the castle and into a fancy pony-drawn carriage that carried me down the streets of Trottingham towards the famous Westmanester Abbey, one of the most prestigious churches in all of Great Griffin, which was where the coronation of monarchs was held. Soldiers of the Crown lined the streets as I traveled to Westmanester, dressed in red uniforms, most of which were carrying bayoneted muskets. Crowds of ponies formed throughout the streets, demonstrating a mostly positive reaction to me; there was a lot of cheering as my carriage was pulled through the streets, though many ponies just remained silent. Most of the common ponies weren't too fussed over me being a bastard; it was primarily the nobility and, to some extent, the Church who cared about my bastardy.

Upon arrival at the church, I departed the carriage and, with several guards surrounding me, entered the large building. The church choir and organist performed I Was Glad as my procession and I entered the doors; it was a tradition for the song to be played at the beginning of coronations, dating back around two hundred years. As I walked, listened, and looked around the interior, I felt...at peace, for the first time in a long while. Being the house of the Lord always did wonders to calm my anxieties, but Westmanester Abbey was an especially soothing environment. Everything about it, from the music to the ornate stone arches to the carvings and stained glass murals which lined the walls just created an atmosphere that dissolved away the nervousness I had been feeling. Feeling the grace of God, I felt the strength within myself to face the crowds.

I walked up to the oaken throne, upon which every Griffish monarch had been crowned for over four hundred years, standing in front of it. The crowds quieted as I did so, and the Archbishop of Canterpony, a light-tan unicorn stallion with a light-gray mane and a blue cross for a cutie-mark (wearing ivory-colored robes, emblazoned with golden crosses, in contrast to my own custom-tailored robes which were colored a mix of white and red) approached me and stood in front of me. Turning to face the crowds, he made the following proclamation.

"Fillies and gentlecolts, I do hereby present unto you King Valiant, your undoubted King: Wherefore all of you who are come this day, to do your homage and service, are you willing to do the same?" the Archbishop asked.

"God save King Valiant!" the crowd responded.

The Archbishop repeated the proclamation three times, asking in each direction, being met with the same response each time. Whether the ponies in the crowds actually meant what they said was a matter for debate, but it was still a nice gesture. With the Archbishop's proclamation complete, I was led to another chair, this one having a red cushion, that I sat down in. The Archbishop then proceeded to administer the coronation oath.

"Sir, is Your Majesty willing to take the oath?" the Archbishop asked me.

"I am indeed." I answered.

"Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the people of the Kingdom of Great Griffin in accordance to our laws and customs?" the Archbishop asked.

"I do solemnly promise." I answered.

"Will you, to your power, force law and justice to be executed in all your judgments?" the Archbishop asked.

"I will indeed." I answered.

"Will you, to the utmost of your power, maintain the laws of God and the true profession of the Gospel? Will you, to the utmost of your power, maintain and preserve the Church of Trottingham, as, by law, established in Great Griffin? And will you preserve unto the bishops and clergy of Great Griffin, and the churches they maintain, all rights and privileges that, by law, shall appertain to any of them?" the Archbishop asked.

"Let all of Great Griffin bear witness that I do solemnly swear to do all of this, and always uphold the will of Providence." I answered. I wasn't entirely certain that the clergy was going to be amenable towards my reign, both because of my status as a bastard and because of...other factors about myself, which were beyond my control, that the clergy would highly condemn. Still, I was a God-fearing griffin and, as King, it was my duty to oversee the Church and bear the title of Defender of the Faith. I would try, to the best of my ability, to appease the Church of Trottingham, but I knew it was not going to be an easy affair.

With the vows completed, the Archbishop and I walked to the altar, where the priests laid down an open copy of the Bible. Kneeling in front of the altar, I made a promise before God to fulfill and uphold my vows.

"May Providence bear witness that I shall always uphold the promises I have made today." I declared before kissing the book. Ordinarily, I would have been expected to give a royal signature backing up my oaths, but that part of the ceremony had been omitted on account of me not being able to read or write (although everyone else hadn't been informed of my illiteracy; Pen Stroke had conjured up some excuse to warrant skipping it, something I was grateful for).

Having finished the reinforcement of my vows, I, with the Archbishop (levitating the book with him) following me, sat down in another nearby chair. The Archbishop proceeded to lay the Bible down on a stand in front of me, and said the following:

"Most gracious King, to keep your Majesty ever mindful of the law and the Gospel of God, that you might forever uphold His traditions and commandments, we present you with this Book, the most valuable thing that this world has to offer." the Archbishop said after he had set the book down.

The church musicians played a hymn I had never heard before as the Archbishop and I got up, again. We walked over to the oaken coronation chair, in order for me to be anointed and officially crowned. I sat down in the chair, built around the Stone of Pone (a prestigious artifact from the northern province of Trotland, which had been used for the coronation of Trottish kings and queens before it was brought to Trottingham following the creation of the unification of Great Griffin). Several ponies held a golden cloth canopy in the air over me, and the Archbishop approached me alongside the Dean of Westmanester Abbey (a gray earth pony stallion with a white mane, and brown eyes; I couldn't actually see his cutie-mark, as it was covered by his robes) . The Dean poured consecrated oil into the gilt coronation spoon, which the Archbishop proceeded to use to anoint me with the sign of the Cross on my hooves, forehead, and chest. As he was doing so, the royal choir sang a rendition of another hymn which was new to me.

After the anointing was complete, a second robe was placed over me, this one colored gold. The Archbishop then presented me with the Sword of State, part of the Griffish crown jewels, placing it in my hooves.

"Receive this kingly sword, brought now from the altar of God and delivered unto you by the hooves of bishops and humble servants of the Lord. With this sword, do justice, stop the growth of inequity, protect the holy Church of God, and help defend all the faithful ponies of the land." the Archbishop declared as he presented the blade to me.

I then proceeded to take the sword and walk up to the altar (holding it, carefully, with my wings, so I could properly walk), where I presented it to the Dean, who, in turn, proceeded to place it on the altar. I then turned and walked back to the coronation chair, sitting back down, at which point the Dean retrieved a set of two golden bracelets (known as the bracelets of honesty and friendship) and proceeded to bring them to me. Wordlessly, the Dean placed the bracelets on my front paws.

"Receive the bracelets of honesty and friendship, tokens of the Lord's protection, embracing you on each paw, and as symbols and pledges of the bonds that unite you with the ponies of Great Griffin, to the end that you may be strengthened in all your works and defended against all enemies through the grace of Jesus Christ, our Lord." the Dean said.

After the Dean's statement, I stood up and was invested with further vestments. A second golden robe, this one larger and more heavily decorated than the last, was placed over me and clasped in place.

"Receive this royal robe, and may the Lord your God imbue you with knowledge and wisdom, with majesty and power from on high, and may the Lord clothe you with the robes of righteousness, and with the garment of salvation." the Archbishop declared.

I then sat back down in the coronation chair, at which point the Archbishop presented me with a golden orb topped with a cross, representing the rule of Christ over the whole of Equus, setting it my right paw.

"Receive this orb, set under the Cross, and remember that the whole world is subject to the power of Christ, our Redeemer." the Archbishop declared.

The orb was then taken back and returned to the altar, after which the Archbishop presented me with a golden scepter, topped with a jewel-encrusted cross.

"Receive the royal scepter, the conduit of kingly power and justice." the Archbishop said as the scepter was placed in my right paw

The Archbishop then proceeded to present me with a slightly longer golden scepter, this one topped with a dove, placing it in my left paw.

"Receive the rod of equity and mercy. Execute justice that you forget not mercy; punish the wicked, protect and cherish the just. " the Archbishop said.

Then, it was time for the crowning moment of the event; quite literally. The Dean of Westmanester took the Crown of Great Griffin from off the altar, carrying it on a pillow of red velvet, and walked over in front of me. The Archbishop then took the elegant golden crown from off the pillow (with his magic) and, holding it high in the air, slowly descended it down onto my head.

"God save the King! God save the King! God save the King!" the crowds declared while the organist played a dramatic tune as the Archbishop removed his magical grasp from the crown.

The feelings I was experiencing were quite overwhelming. To go from a starving orphan on the streets of Trottingham to King of Great Griffin in such a short period of time was a truly exhilarating experience, to say the least. It was nothing short of miraculous, what had happened to me. I felt as though I had been personally graced by God, who had seen fit to liberate me from my suffering and elevate me to my position. I just knew it couldn't have been sheer chance by which I inherited the crown; I knew that I had been blessed by Providence, and I silently resolved at that moment, with the crown upon my head, to always carry out the Lord's work and spread His good graces across every corner of Equus.

"May God crown you with a crown of glory and righteousness, that having a rife faith will manifold through good works, you may obtain the crown of an everlasting kingdom, by the gift of Him, who's Kingdom endureth forever, amen." the Archbishop prayed.

The rest of the event passed by very quickly for me; I was simply too overwhelmed with emotion to properly process and commit to memory the things that were happening around me. I was surrounded by divine grace, and imbued with newfound passion after years of depression. It was as if I had died and been born anew, through power from on high, restoring me to life. All I could think about was how I had been called upon to purge Great Griffin of inequity and injustice, and how the Lord had tasked me with spreading His light and wisdom to the ponies of the world. I wasn't a perfect pony, but I promised to myself and to my Lord that I would do everything in my power to defeat the forces of inequity in my country and bring about a new era of harmony and justice.