Das Leben ist kein Ponyhofby StaleprateChapters1. Payday2. Arrival in Thymíaustadt3. A Hard Fought Bargain4. Das kann doch einen Hauptgreif erschüttern5. A Trying Torrent1. Payday“Well Putzi, have we got enough in the ol’ account for a wild night out?” rumbled out the griffon with a wide, liquored up smile. Fleidgling recoiled back as he caught a whiff of the drink in the griffon’s breath, mumbling to himself as he worked. “Soldat, plus extra pay for location. None in escrow. Thirty Idols due.” He counted out the drunken soldier’s pay at a steady tempo, tapping the Idols out in a neat stack on the empty ration crates that were his “desk.” Several smaller crates made the “chair” he sat on. This peculiar furniture was due to the fact that it would have been quite strange to haul a desk outside. The local commander lacked Fliedgling’s conviction for an orderly “pay parade” and refused his office for the duty. This left the disgruntled Paymaster subject to not only drunken soldiers, but to the dissident mosquito population. Not one seemed to care though, despite how many times he had submitted reports to rectify this. Fleidgling looked up at the griffon. The soldier’s anticipation for the coins wracked his body, from head to swishing tail. The lack of propriety, of respect to be found in these parts was disgraceful, a far cry from the discipline expected of the Empire’s soldiers. Fleidgling conceded though, that it was preferable to the draconian nature of service in the Heartlands, where his fellow graduates from the esteemed Löwburg Academy served. Even so, his posting in the hostile jungles of the south had to have been a mistake. One of many the Empire made. “Accc-H-tung!” barked a voice from behind with the sweet dulcet tone of a talon tearing through drywall. It was hard to not straighten up when Korporal Guntram started to crack the whip. “Is that the way you ah-dress a suh-perior officer?” Guntram seethed, as he strolled into view displaying an immaculately pressed uniform. Korporal Guntram was an exception. A bastion of Herzlander discipline among these animals. Guntram was assigned to escort Fleidgling wherever they went, but how that griffon never choked on his spittle left Fleidgling in wonder. “Welllll Puht-zi, have we got enough in the oolllll’ account for a wild night out?“ Guntram mocked, lowering his face close to the Soldat’s own. He whipped back up and puffed his breast out with a salute towards the sky. “The proper address is ‘Soldat Berggreif! Reporting for pay, sir!’” Fleidgling rolled his eyes at the spectacle. “Zealot...”. As much as Fleidgling enjoyed the treatment befitting of an officer he wasn’t fond of the army nor the Empire. Any notion of imperial glory had been long dispelled by the numerous failures of the throne: the loss of the Idol of Boreas, the cession of territories to upstart nobility, and the rise of radical thought undermined any confidence that remained. “Eh? What’re you?” slurred the Soldat. His eyes swirled circles in their sockets as he tried to track Guntram’s movement. He would have toppled over if Guntram wasn’t in his path. “Bah!” Guntram caught him in his talons, and threw him back up with disgust.“Come to attention!” The Korporal’s words snapped the soldier out of it. He stiffened immediately and flew up to his feet. “Eyes front! Salute!” Fleidgling watched with idle curiosity but sat up and schooled his face into a neutral expression. On cue, the soldier's head leveled forward to meet Fleidgling’s gaze as he shot an arm up in salute. It was done with such vigor that he punched his own helmet with a clang, sending it spinning around on his head. “Address the officer as told!” Guntram’s voice boomed. “Soldat Berggreif! Reporting for pay, sir!” The griffon stood at attention, breathing heavily. “Mhm. Sign here please,” Fleidgling said pointing to an empty spot in the paybook on the desk. Berggreif scrawled a barely comprehensible signature, but technically valid nonetheless. Fleidgling stamped another empty spot in the booklet and handed Berggreif the Idols. Fleidgling returned the salute with a grunt and the soldier turned about to march off with the transfer done. Guntram, ultimately satisfied that order was restored, moved back to his position behind the desk. And the next griffon in line moved up. “Good day Sir, Zugsführer Branchstatter. I have come to collect my pay.” Fleidgling already heard Guntram huffing and puffing behind him. He released a silent groan, tipping his sun helmet down over his eyes and began counting out the Idols… The sun hung low. Stamp. The line was at its end. Stamp. Guntram’s voice had not given out. Stamp. “Halt! You do not dismiss yourself, you will wait until the Hauptgreif returns your salute!” Fleidgling dragged his talon up in salute, exhausted. It was hardly proper but it counted, allowing the last soldier to leave. He hung his head over the desk, eyes trying to close for a few moments to rest, but finally began tying up the sack of remaining coins. It was nearly empty; this was his and Guntram’s final distribution on the islands. They were due to board a transport back to the mainland in just a few hours, where they would rest several days, restock their Idols, and take a tour around the islands once more. The whole affair typically lasted three weeks, start to finish. “Permission to speak freely, sir?” Guntram came up to the desk and began taking the crates forming it to a nearby stockpile. Fleidgling lamented the Korporal’s formality as he packed up his station. “Yes, yes, permission granted. At ease, Korporal.” “These Schweinkatzen must learn proper procedure. I tell you, such insolence should be punished severely!” Guntram set another cluster of crates down, dropping them from higher above the ground than he should have. “Indeed. No matter how many complaints I may send to their officers, nothing will happen. It is truly a disgrace.” Fleidgling added with similar annoyance. “Hmph! I should hope that once the Kaiser finally takes to the throne, we will see a golden era, the likes of which will surpass even the reign of Grover I” the Korporal said, looking in the direction of Griffenheim. “If one griffon is all it takes to bring an Empire to its knees, one griffon is all it takes to stand that Empire back on its legs.” “Maybe somebody like that would recognize the work we’re doing here. If only they had more dedicated griffons like us,” Fleidgling replied. His mind conjured up images of himself as a wealthy, decorated general going to parties and enjoying himself without a care. But he shook such thoughts from his head as he returned to the present. “Right. That’s another trip done, let's get down to the docks and ferry ourselves back to Thymíaustadt for our own pay.” Fleidgling checked his uniform and bags to make sure that nothing was forgotten or stolen. “Check your pockets, Guntram. You can never be too careful around these types.” Satisfied with his own item-check, he waited for Guntram to finish and shoulder his musket before striding down towards the docks. The Korporal marched with his head held high behind him. “Ein-zwei-drei-vier! Ein-zwei-drei-vier!” Guntram sounded out his own march for the rest of the trip, in the absence of anybody else willing to do so. 2. Arrival in ThymíaustadtThymíaustadt was not quite the city it once was. Since the Empire conquered these lands, it was almost unrecognizable from the days it had been under Minotaur rule. The buildings had been redone, Griffons lived there, and its original inhabitants had been barred entry from the city. Indeed, in spite of the fact that the griffon invaders were vastly outnumbered by the minotaur natives, the word of the griffon was law. Though the Asterionese archipelago was technically under Imperial rule via a local minotaur king, this walled city was the Kaiser’s bastion in Southern Griffonia, as well as the home port of the Southern Fleet. As their transport slowly came into port, Fliedgling noted one ship that stood out from the rest, outlined by the moonlight. It was far larger and carried heavier armament than any of the cruisers, yet not quite as big or armored as a battleship. From gossip that he had heard around the port he determined that the boat in question must have been the Austernfischer. The Austernfischer was a battlecruiser, one of the first of its kind. Designed with the purpose of chasing down lesser ships, while outmaneuvering any that might pose a fight, the admiralty was convinced that it would play a pivotal role in future naval doctrine. Fleidgling was certain they were raring to see it in combat. Fleidgling noticed he wasn’t the only one looking out. There was a sailor beside him on deck, admiring the city’s seaside. “Pardon me, but is that the battlecruiser i've been hearing so much about?” Fleidgling asked, looking towards the vessel. “Jawohl, Herr Hauptgreif. It is the flagship Austernfischer. It is a new design, there is even electricity onboard,” the sailor replied, confirming Fleidgling’s suspicions. “It was launched several months ago. The Countess Sumpfkiel was in attendance.” “Sumpfkiel herself? But I thought she wanted to open peaceful dialogue with the Minotaurs?” Fleidgling was a little surprised to hear her show support for increased military presence. One of her main goals since coming into power was to end the conflict between the resentful minotaurs and griffons, a status quo that had been present for centuries. The sailor merely looked at Fleidgling and shrugged. “The hull was laid down a little over a year ago. Herr Hauptgreif will recall the Count Sumpfkiel was alive then. This has long been planned, and a portion of the cost borne by the Admiralty.” “Hmm,” Fleidgling grunted with indifference and looked out to the fleet once more. Without Imperial support, he doubted that the griffons would be able to maintain their clawed grasp over these hostile lands for long. But his thoughts were interrupted by the loud wail of the ship's horn. “Ah, we’re finally docking! Oh, a nice rest from all this is just what I need,” Fleidgling made his way back to the bunks, where he found Guntram marching circles around the sack of funds, kept in one corner. “Korporal!” he shouted. In one quick movement, Guntram halted, unshouldered his musket, and aimed directly at Fleidgling. “Aah! Guntram, put that down!” Fleidgling ducked for cover around the other side of the hatchway. “Hauptgreif, is that you?” Guntram asked, still pointing his musket towards the entrance, slowly lowering it. “Yes, of course it’s me!” Fleidgling angrily cursed him from where he cowered. He entered again once he heard Guntram release a sigh. “Forgive me, mein Herr, I thought somebody was trying to steal the leftover funds,” Guntram explained, looking around the room warily. “So when I-” “Nevermind that!” Fleidgling interrupted, looking Guntram directly in the eyes. “Now, we are about to offboard. You are going to carry those funds with me to command, where we will fill out our reports, and meet back in three days’ time. Is that understood?” Fliedgling addressed him sternly, but maintained a level voice. “Jawohl, Herr Hauptgreif!” Guntram saluted and picked up the bag in his beak. Once Guntram was ready, Fleidgling led him off to the deck, making sure he maintained good form. By the time they reached the deck, the gangways had just been laid out. They technically had the ability to simply fly off, but to do so would have been a severe breach of protocol. Just as they began their descent, another officer flanked by several soldiers stopped them. “Halt! You are with the Asterion Garrison?” The officer asked. He was a shorter and relatively thinner griffon. The outline formed by his feathers seemed a little unkempt. In the darkness, Fleidgling couldn’t make out his insignia or assignment. “Yes, with Generaloberst Vögel’s group, the Eighth Regiment. Hauptgreif Germund Fleidgling and Korporal Guntram Arend,” Fleidgling replied, annoyed that he would have to wait a little longer before being dismissed. “And just who might you be?” Fliedgling could just make out a curve forming at the corners of the officer’s cheeks, which made him a little anxious. “Well?” He chuckled and turned to Guntram, hoping for some encouragement, but was met with the usual stoic look he maintained around other soldiers. “I am Major Grause, sent by command to inform you that you will not be staying in Thymíaustadt.” Grause observed with some curiosity as the color in Fliedgling’s plumage somehow faded, but continued. “Divisional headquarters has seen it fit for you to resume your rotation around the islands, effective immediately. You will be confined to troop quarters onboard until the transport is of sufficient distance from port.” “But surely-” Fleidgling started. “Silence!” Grause shouted before he had a chance to say more. “You will do exactly as ordered.” “Y-yes, H-h-herr-r Major.” He was momentarily taken aback at this outburst, grasping the railing for support. “You are to remain on this transport for the next two hours, until it departs. During that time, you are not to make any contact with griffons on the docks, civilian or military. A squadron from the Southern Fleet will accompany you on your voyage, Once in Thebos, you will perform your duties as normal, until further orders are received.” Grause stated the rest of Fleidgling’s orders without missing a beat. “Aha!” Fleidgling began. “Herr Major, I must inform you, I cannot carry out my duties without a new supply of Idols. I am paymaster after all,” he nervously chortled, gesturing to the empty bag Guntram held and his own insignia. “I’m afraid you will simply have to let me through and notify command that this cannot go ahead,” he stated, as he began tugging at Guntram to walk forward with him. Guntram, for his part, merely looked away. “Not to worry, Hauptgreif, we have your Idols right here.” Grause turned to one of the soldiers. “Unteroffizier, the Idols, please.” The soldier grabbed a sack resting on the dockside, extending it towards an incredulous Fleidgling. He could do nothing but accept. In return, the soldier took the empty sack from Guntram. “B-but, uh, isn’t this bag a little too light to have the proper amount?” Fleidgling asked, weighing it in his talons. “I am certain you will find the amount to be more than adequate for your revised duties. Oh, and you will be needing this too. This should supplement your revolver and sword quite nicely,” he said with a pleasant tone in his voice, presenting a musket before Fleidgling. It was even more worn than the one Guntram used. “Now, Hauptgreif Fleidgling, if there is nothing else, I believe that will be all. Good evening,” Grause proclaimed with no small amount of smugness in his voice. He turned around and disembarked. “Yes. Good Evening, Herr Major.” Fleidgling gave a half-hearted salute. Major Grause returned it without even looking, as he walked away. “Well Guntram,” he began, handing over the bag of Idols as he prepared to re-embark. “There goes our time off. A whole evening, to be spent stuck in our quarters” Fleidgling looked down at his musket. “But there’s something else I don’t like about this. There simply can’t be enough Idols in that bag to last more than a few postings.” “I estimate no more than ten thousand Idols.” Guntram shook the bag, and sighed. “Unfortunately, Herr Hauptgreif, it seems not all the officers share the same foresight you do. I am certain that if you were in command, things would be done the right way down here. But regrettably, we can only follow orders.” Before they moved into their quarters, Fleidgling gave a last, forlorn look towards Thymíaustadt; among the lights of the city and the ships of the Southern Fleet preparing for the voyage, he saw the major talking over some arrangements with a crewgriff. Fleidgling followed a marching Guntram into their quarters. Though he was in good form as usual, Guntram called out no cadence this time. 3. A Hard Fought BargainThe transport creaked and groaned as the waves pushed it from side to side. Guntram’s loud snores were accentuated by his position against the wall, while his officer took post “guarding” the idols (Guntram had insisted on a proper and complete changing of the guard before he let himself rest). “Out of all the places I could have been sent… Cloudbury, Griffonstone, even Haukland! It had to be Asterion…” Fleidgling paced back and forth in frustration. “My classmates are having a merry time with all the conveniences of modern life, and I’m relegated to some hostile backwater. Do you believe this, Korporal?” A long snore was his only response. “Yes, I’m beginning to think we may never get out of this place. How long have we been going around the islands, anyway?” Snork. “Can you imagine all the festivals, all the outings we’re missing out on? All the griffons we could have met?” His frustration gave way to a dangerous curiosity. Fleidgling had to take a moment’s pause. “Yes… the griffons we could have met. Guntram, why were they so quick to ensure we didn’t leave the ship? Were they afraid we would forget to return?” Fleidgling’s spoken thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock at the hatchway. Through the porthole on the hatch, he saw the crewgriff the major had spoken to earlier, beckoning him forth. He appeared a little nervous. “Well, what’s this now…” Fleidgling strode to the hatch, a little cautiously. Once he was close enough, the griffon opened it just a crack. “Hey, you might want to take a look at this. I got my talons on a message the major entrusted me with after you went in, and whe-ew!” The griffon whistled and wiped his head for exaggerated effect. “It does NOT look good for you.” “What? What is it?” Fleidgling demanded. Now he was getting anxious. Though he pried at the hatch, the griffon still held it at just a crack. “Shh, shh. Keep your voice down,” the griffon whispered. His eyes kept switching between Fleidgling and something on the other side of the hatch. “Now, you are paymaster right? That means you’ve got plenty of idols?” “Well… yes,” Fleidgling whispered back. He could tell what was coming next. As much as the rankers tried, they had never been able to press him to take part in bribery. Until now. “Uh, yeah, this is going to cost you.” “...Fine.” Fleidgling quietly went to the sack and withdrew some coins, careful to make absolutely sure Guntram was asleep. “Here’s twenty idols” he grumbled, depositing them into a pouch extended through the hatchway. The griffon yanked it back through and counted them all immediately, looking back to Fleidgling satisfied. “Alright, listen closely.” He peeked the tip of his beak inside. “On Thebos? Where we’re dropping you off?” “Yes, yes, what of it?” Fleidgling was giving his full attention to this. “Things will be going normally there. But then they’re moving you to Prospero and, well…” he trailed off. “Well?” The door opened just a little more, and the pouch was extended through again. With a sigh, Fleidgling retrieved 20 more idols. “Well, they expect the locals will be, eh, emboldened by the recent news. No griffons can be spared. Now look, I can’t stay here all night. I can just give you the parchment itself… for a few idols more. Don’t be so glum. I’m sure you can afford it, Herr paymaster,” he said, complete with a mock salute. “This is an outrage,” the paymaster whispered with as much ferocity as he could, but he begrudgingly brought the whole bag towards the door nonetheless. “How much is it for our release from confinement,” he gestured towards the sleeping Korporal, “in addition to the full set of orders?” The crewgriff was staring at the bag giddy like now. “D-d-do I hear, mmm, one thousand idols?” “One thousand idols!” Fleidgling was dumbstruck. He was demanding a small fortune. This was just going too far now. And Fleidgling was about to say no… until he saw the sleeping Guntram in the corner of his vision. “Alright, fine then,” he said, his face and tone becoming far more amicable. “One thousand idols is just alright. In fact, if you’ll just slip the orders inside, I’ll let you help yourself to the bag! I trust you’ll be able to count the right amount?” He added a wink to be extra sure the greedy griffon didn’t miss his offer. That was all Fleidgling needed to say. Fleidgling could tell from the griffon’s shaky movements as he slipped through that it took all the self-inhibition the griffon had to stop himself from bursting in. “H-here. This has the orders regarding you, information for the local commander, and a-anything else you might need to know..” Fleidgling snatched it from his grip, and walked further back inside, as the griffon took as many idols from the bag as he could at a time. Fleidgling smiled. He didn’t even need to wait for the griffon to get lost in the coins. “Oh Korporal…” He lightly stroked Guntram’s head with the tip of his wing as he whispered into the Korporal’s ear coverts. “Wake up, Guntram…” Snerk! “Hmm, hmm, yes, Herr Hauptgreif?” Guntram was beginning to come to, though he wasn’t fully awake. “Korporal. Stand up, please.” Fleidgling wasn’t in too much of a hurry. He knew he had plenty of time. “Mmph... ” Guntram got up and saluted, using his musket for support. “Reporting, Herr Hauptgreif!” “Korporal, look around. Do you see the idols we’re in charge of?” Fleidgling said, with less concern than he should have had. Guntram looked around the room, but saw nothing. “No, Herr Hauptgreif. I do not…” Words failed him as he began to comprehend what was going on. “Hey… Herr Hauptgreif, the Idols! They are gone! They are-” The Korporal, now completely awake, spotted the oblivious crewgriff still rummaging through the sack. The pockets of his uniform were bulging with coinage now. “Aha! A thief! Halt! Stay where you are!” Guntram shouted as he ran towards the culprit with his musket in grip, poised to attack. Fleidgling watched with knowing amusement as he stood where he was. “Well done, Guntram.” He smiled, mentally praising his own ingenuity. “What is this?” The griffon shouted, angry that he was being forcefully stopped from claiming any more Idols. “These are mine! Your officer gave them to me, in exchange for information!” “You dare to accuse Herr Fleidgling of bribery?” His attempts to defend himself only further aggravated the Korporal who stood with raised haunches and tail. “Ach, this is too much! You have gone too far!” “Oi! Calm down, ask Herr ‘Fledgling’ or ‘Feigling’ or whatever it was, he’ll verify it!” The griffon was backing away into a corner, still dragging the bag with him. He did not want to part. “I have never spoken to this griffon before,” Fleidgling said with an air of indifference, not even bothering to look. “Hmph! Theft, accusation of bribery, and blatant disrespect of a superior officer! This cannot go unpunished, I give you one last chance to stand down!” Guntram was closing the distance, gun barrel pointed right at the griffon, who had hit a wall. “Enough! Damn each of you! Maar guide your souls!” The griffon hissed as he reached for a dagger around his lower body, but Guntram winded in with a solid punch before he could take it out in time, knocking him straight into the wall with a CLANG! Neither Fleidgling nor Guntram said a word as they watched the griffon slide down the wall, onto the ground. After a few moments of silence, he slumped over, moaning and grasping at his head. Fleidgling exhaled in relief, while Guntram took a moment to take a couple deep breaths, calming down. “The nerve of some griffons,” was all Guntram said. “Right… Korporal. See to it that all idols on him are returned to the sack. We’ll have the Kapitän deal with him later.” “Jawohl, Herr Hauptgreif.” Satisfied that the incident had been dealt with, Fleidgling opened the scroll the griffon traded him earlier. The orders that were to be delivered to the commanding officer at Thebos. Fleidgling’s limbs stiffened and his tail dropped low as he read through it. “Oh dear.” “Civilian uprising in the heartlands, joined by soldiers… mass desertions… nobility fleeing… and they march on the young Kaiser in Griffenheim!” Each problem seemed worse than the last. Guntram had occupied himself with roughly stuffing idols back into the sack, unable to hear his superior’s broodings over the loud clink of the coins. But insurrection in the Empire did not seem so worrying as what Fleidgling read next. “By order of Chief of the Emperor’s General Staff, Generaloberst von Vinnin: armies determined to be of too great a distance from Griffenheim are to hold their territories from revolt at all costs, until further notice.” There was an added addendum by the Cyanolisian General Staff. “Von Cannabia sees it wise that spare troops in the region be sent to garrison the Minotaur islands. The bulls in Cyanolisia have been kept down. There is suspiciously little unified resistance noted, we hope to maintain the situation. Should news of weakness spread to Asterion, the uprising would likely be of an unprecedented scale. It is highly unlikely that we will be able to maintain order in such a situation, troops should be sent to delay Minotaurs as long as possible while mainland garrisons are bolstered.” He read aloud. The frazzled Fleidgling could not help but pluck at his contour feathers, though he refrained from removing them completely to maintain what dignity he could. “Ach du lieber!” Guntram finished re-packing the idols, and noticing something amiss with his superior, walked over beside him. “What is the matter Herr Hauptgreif?” Fleidgling turned to tell Guntram the bad news. “The Heartlands are in mass turmoil, and we’re being sent on a… on a...” he scrambled to find the proper word, and failed. Instead using the first substitute that came to mind. “A suicide assignment!” He splayed his wings in exasperation. “That message left Griffenheim half a month ago. There's no telling how the situation has changed since.” “Oh... that is indeed terrible,” Guntram said with a downtrodden look as he removed his helmet. “Terrible? This could be it for us! Do you remember Prospero when we were there just a few weeks ago?” Fleidgling took Guntram by the shoulder and shook him vigorously with a free claw. “We would wake up with bullet holes in our tents! And that was before the situation started deteriorating!” “Her-r-r Hauptgr-reiff, it is against regulation for…” Guntram didn’t need to finish before Fleidgling let him go. The paymaster sighed, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry, Guntram, it’s just that.. Ugh. What are we to do?” The Korporal shrugged. “What can we do?” “What can we do…?” Fleidgling turned to him with a pained look. “...We’re going to take a walk on deck.” 4. Das kann doch einen Hauptgreif erschütternThey were several kilometers from Thymíaustadt port now. There was a squadron of ships from the Southern Fleet forming up near them, along with a few more transports, though they were still a distance away. “Probably some other unlucky souls who got caught up in this,” Fleidgling thought as he gazed longingly at the mainland from over a rail, Guntram beside him. “To think that something as simple as a letter could dictate the fate of so many brilliant griffons,” the paymaster voiced his woes to the sea. “I am afraid, Herr, that the garrisons would have been troubled regardless. There is only so long they will be able to keep the news from the Minotaurs, before…” Fwew! Guntram huffed exaggeratedly . “I was referring to us, Korporal.” Fleidgling scolded him half-heartedly. “Oh, but what’s the use in fighting it? It may as well be written in stone. Let’s just head back in and hope we wake up on some sunny…” His words died in his throat as he noticed something curious on the horizon. Out of the corner of his eye, he could swear he saw a sudden bright light. He quickly turned his head towards it but It disappeared before he could get a good look. “Korporal, did you see that? I thought I saw a flash, by the escort ships.” “Yes, yes, I thought I saw one too. What do you supp- there! Another! That came from the long one.” “What is it? Is it a flare? Some spell, signal?” The answer came roaring past with the force of a thousand gales, nearly sending them into the air. Fleidgling clung onto one of Guntram’s lower legs, while the Korporal held onto the railing. It was all they could do to avoid being tossed about by the now tumultuous waves. “An explosion! It’s a raid, or a bombardment, or something!” Fleidgling exclaimed, still holding onto Guntram, who was now getting up. “The ships! They are listing! At least three of them have been hit.” Guntram reported. “Listing? But that... “ Fleidgling crawled up to the railing, peeking just his eyes over the edge. Immediately, he dropped back down after seeing the damage. “The Austernfischer! Sunk! An explosion like that, some enchantments, there’s no way she’ll recover.” “More explosions in the dockyards, Herr Hauptgreif! It must be sabotage. The minotaurs!” “Guntram, this transport could be next!” Fleidgling lightly tugged down on the Korporal’s uniform as he sat, wide-eyed. “Guntram…” His tone suddenly changed. He sounded calmer.“Guntram... why should we die for the Empire?” “Well, Herr Hauptgreif, that is because-” “No, Guntram. Why should we let some von Schmitt play the role of puppet master, as they use us to put out a flame? One that’s safe in a fire pit, while another blaze engulfs their home?” A sense of purpose overtook the paymaster, as if the fire within him, long since smothered by helplessness, had been rekindled and given new life. “Think of how much more we could do elsewhere! What a senseless waste of potential this is.” “W-well, m-m-ein Herr-” “And what difference does the presence of two griffons make? We’ll probably get killed like the rest, and it won’t even buy the Cyanolisians any more time.” Fleidgling now stood, looking to the mainland once more, but with defiance. “I will not let my fate be decided by an erroneous order, sent by some officer who never even set their eyes upon a minotaur fighter. Korporal! We are going to fly back to the mainland, and we are going to go… somewhere! Anywhere but Asterion, you understand me?” He looked at Guntram, who was in a state of wonderment, sternly in the eyes. Years of scorn for the military hierarchy were working their way through him. “And we are going to go, right now. Take the Idols with us, it never hurts to keep a small fortune on you.” With that, Fleidgling looked towards the stern of the transport. The crew would be too busy with their own worries to notice, or care, he decided. He made sure his uniform was properly buttoned, that his helmet was tied around tightly, and charged, unfurling his wings and rocketing into the air with a kick. Guntram shut his eyes and stood still for several moments. “This would by all means be an unacceptable defiance of the chain of command...” He turned around to get a longer running start, and took off to catch up with Fleidgling. 5. A Trying TorrentCatching up, as it turned out, wasn’t nearly as difficult as Guntram thought it would be. Whereas the more slender Fleidgling began tiring after the first few minutes of flight against the harsh sea wind, Guntram had always kept himself in peak physical form, a model griffon soldier. Even with all his equipment, in addition to the large sack of idols, he knew he could keep this up for some time. “Herr Hauptgreif,” Guntram shouted over the wind as he closed the distance. “Perhaps you might fare better if you dropped your musket?” Fleidgling looked down. As the Korporal said, he was clutching the gun tight to his chest. “Why did I even bring this?” he muttered to himself, and let go, watching as it dropped, hundreds of meters below. The musket landed in the water hard, the sound drowned under the rumblings of the waves. Its rigid body held strong as the sea poured made its home in any openings, any old scratches or etchings it could find, thrashing the piece mercilessly to and fro. Before long it had been swallowed whole by the waves. That was the last that any griffon would ever see of it. The thought that he might suffer the same fate unnerved Fleidgling, but at the same time drove him to keep pushing on. Fleidgling squinted and looked to the mainland again. Just a few kilometers away. He was quite out of his element here. Years of drill exemptions from his position were working their way up from his wingtips. Flap Flap Flap. It was a dull ache, for now. Fleidgling soon became aware of something else: it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay level. Guntram called it out. “Downdraft!” Noticing his officer’s struggle, Guntram used his strength to push on in front of and just to the left of Fleidgling, to counteract the downwards forces. “Keep going straight, sir! We should be through before long.” “G-Guntram! Do- phew -do you t-think there’s an updraft just ahead?” The ache was warming into a heavy throb. He couldn’t get enough air, yet each breath sent a dry pain into the officer’s lungs and through his bones. Guntram could see where things were headed. He slowed down, until he was just in front of Fleidgling. “Just grab onto me and hold on tight, Hauptgreif!” “I-I think I can make it!” Fleidgling said, not wanting to give in. “Grab! And! Hold!” The Korporal shouted, turning his head to face Fleidgling directly. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” Fleidgling raised his wings for one last push, and lunged forwards, clawing his way up Guntram until he felt secure, hugging him around the belly. Guntram breathed a sigh of relief when he felt Fleidgling climb onto him. In training, they told him that the things they were preparing him for simply could never be expected. He hadn’t quite understood then, but went along with it anyways. But now, as he carried his gun, a sack of ten thousand Idols, his officer, and himself through the night, he finally thought he understood. The rest of the flight passed almost peacefully, as they escaped the downdraft, and finally touched down in a seaside plain beside Thymíaustadt. Fleidgling was still riding the back of the Korporal, not daring to open his eyes even as they were now still. “Herr… Hauptgreif...” Guntram managed between breaths. “We are here. Back on the mainland.” “We are?” He timidly revealed an eye to peek out at their surroundings. He could make out rolling forms of green grass, the distant city. “Aha, we are!” Fleidgling opened his other eye and got up, jumping off Guntram. “Woah!” His front legs gave in the moment they hit the ground and his upper body followed, slamming his beak directly into the dirt. Guntram immediately swiveled around with worry, about to pull him back up. “Hauptgreif, are you alright? I-” “I’m fine. Just a little… tired is all.” Fleidgling panted,taking a moment to regain his bearings. After a moment, he finally pushed himself back up with a grunt, wiping his uniform and feathers in an attempt to preserve what dignity he had left. Guntram couldn’t help but chuckle in spite of the situation. As Fleidgling took the time to preen, Guntram looked around at their surroundings. “So, mein Herr, what comes now?” Fleidgling paused, looking up from his feathers to laugh nervously. “Good question.” “It would be impractical to stay here, either in the city or in the outback.” “Indeed, Guntram. Not only are we traitors to the Imperial Army, but we still have other enemies as well. “But where are we to go then? That status renders half of the continent inaccessible! Neither Wingbardy nor Aquileia or any other secessionist territories would welcome us either.” Fleidgling gazed at the landscape around them. “We’re not safe in any lands held by, or formerly held by the Empire. The Riverlands?” he announced, but immediately shook his head. “No, they don’t like our kind there, not at all. Not to mention how uncomfortable life on the southeastern coasts would be. Similar problem in the north. Gah, why did the Empire have to be so big?” “Somewhere in Zebrica, perhaps?” Guntram tried to help. “Mm, no, most of that continent is too dangerous or just plain odd, for my taste. What place is unprejudiced against Griffons and also unaffected by the Empire?” Fleidgling paced back and forth as dozens of locations, cities, nations, ran through his mind. But one in particular stuck with him. “Not too strange, hostile, or a history with the Empire... Equestria!” “Not to worry, Guntram.” He beamed. “I know just where we can go! We’ll find our way to New Mareland, and from there, it’ll be an easy ride to Equestria! We won’t have to worry about hiding our pasts, griffons looking for revenge, or extradition! It’s the perfect destination!” “How will we get to New Mareland?” “We have wings, we have paws! That’s how.” Fleidgling laughed as he displayed his limbs. “With all due respect Herr Hauptgreif, will it not be difficult, traversing all that terrain, crossing those borders, avoiding any hostiles? Perhaps there is a simpler option?” “Ah, Guntram. I’m sure that with my skills, my expertise and my bravery we will have little to fear.” Fleidgling draped a wing over the back over the still somewhat uncertain Korporal. “Das Leben ist ein Ponyhof.” Author's Note Many thanks to Superior Birb and Jean De Basse for providing invaluable editing services, including (but not limited to) aid in rewording, revising, general tips, and giving their opinions on certain ideas.
1. Payday“Well Putzi, have we got enough in the ol’ account for a wild night out?” rumbled out the griffon with a wide, liquored up smile. Fleidgling recoiled back as he caught a whiff of the drink in the griffon’s breath, mumbling to himself as he worked. “Soldat, plus extra pay for location. None in escrow. Thirty Idols due.” He counted out the drunken soldier’s pay at a steady tempo, tapping the Idols out in a neat stack on the empty ration crates that were his “desk.” Several smaller crates made the “chair” he sat on. This peculiar furniture was due to the fact that it would have been quite strange to haul a desk outside. The local commander lacked Fliedgling’s conviction for an orderly “pay parade” and refused his office for the duty. This left the disgruntled Paymaster subject to not only drunken soldiers, but to the dissident mosquito population. Not one seemed to care though, despite how many times he had submitted reports to rectify this. Fleidgling looked up at the griffon. The soldier’s anticipation for the coins wracked his body, from head to swishing tail. The lack of propriety, of respect to be found in these parts was disgraceful, a far cry from the discipline expected of the Empire’s soldiers. Fleidgling conceded though, that it was preferable to the draconian nature of service in the Heartlands, where his fellow graduates from the esteemed Löwburg Academy served. Even so, his posting in the hostile jungles of the south had to have been a mistake. One of many the Empire made. “Accc-H-tung!” barked a voice from behind with the sweet dulcet tone of a talon tearing through drywall. It was hard to not straighten up when Korporal Guntram started to crack the whip. “Is that the way you ah-dress a suh-perior officer?” Guntram seethed, as he strolled into view displaying an immaculately pressed uniform. Korporal Guntram was an exception. A bastion of Herzlander discipline among these animals. Guntram was assigned to escort Fleidgling wherever they went, but how that griffon never choked on his spittle left Fleidgling in wonder. “Welllll Puht-zi, have we got enough in the oolllll’ account for a wild night out?“ Guntram mocked, lowering his face close to the Soldat’s own. He whipped back up and puffed his breast out with a salute towards the sky. “The proper address is ‘Soldat Berggreif! Reporting for pay, sir!’” Fleidgling rolled his eyes at the spectacle. “Zealot...”. As much as Fleidgling enjoyed the treatment befitting of an officer he wasn’t fond of the army nor the Empire. Any notion of imperial glory had been long dispelled by the numerous failures of the throne: the loss of the Idol of Boreas, the cession of territories to upstart nobility, and the rise of radical thought undermined any confidence that remained. “Eh? What’re you?” slurred the Soldat. His eyes swirled circles in their sockets as he tried to track Guntram’s movement. He would have toppled over if Guntram wasn’t in his path. “Bah!” Guntram caught him in his talons, and threw him back up with disgust.“Come to attention!” The Korporal’s words snapped the soldier out of it. He stiffened immediately and flew up to his feet. “Eyes front! Salute!” Fleidgling watched with idle curiosity but sat up and schooled his face into a neutral expression. On cue, the soldier's head leveled forward to meet Fleidgling’s gaze as he shot an arm up in salute. It was done with such vigor that he punched his own helmet with a clang, sending it spinning around on his head. “Address the officer as told!” Guntram’s voice boomed. “Soldat Berggreif! Reporting for pay, sir!” The griffon stood at attention, breathing heavily. “Mhm. Sign here please,” Fleidgling said pointing to an empty spot in the paybook on the desk. Berggreif scrawled a barely comprehensible signature, but technically valid nonetheless. Fleidgling stamped another empty spot in the booklet and handed Berggreif the Idols. Fleidgling returned the salute with a grunt and the soldier turned about to march off with the transfer done. Guntram, ultimately satisfied that order was restored, moved back to his position behind the desk. And the next griffon in line moved up. “Good day Sir, Zugsführer Branchstatter. I have come to collect my pay.” Fleidgling already heard Guntram huffing and puffing behind him. He released a silent groan, tipping his sun helmet down over his eyes and began counting out the Idols… The sun hung low. Stamp. The line was at its end. Stamp. Guntram’s voice had not given out. Stamp. “Halt! You do not dismiss yourself, you will wait until the Hauptgreif returns your salute!” Fleidgling dragged his talon up in salute, exhausted. It was hardly proper but it counted, allowing the last soldier to leave. He hung his head over the desk, eyes trying to close for a few moments to rest, but finally began tying up the sack of remaining coins. It was nearly empty; this was his and Guntram’s final distribution on the islands. They were due to board a transport back to the mainland in just a few hours, where they would rest several days, restock their Idols, and take a tour around the islands once more. The whole affair typically lasted three weeks, start to finish. “Permission to speak freely, sir?” Guntram came up to the desk and began taking the crates forming it to a nearby stockpile. Fleidgling lamented the Korporal’s formality as he packed up his station. “Yes, yes, permission granted. At ease, Korporal.” “These Schweinkatzen must learn proper procedure. I tell you, such insolence should be punished severely!” Guntram set another cluster of crates down, dropping them from higher above the ground than he should have. “Indeed. No matter how many complaints I may send to their officers, nothing will happen. It is truly a disgrace.” Fleidgling added with similar annoyance. “Hmph! I should hope that once the Kaiser finally takes to the throne, we will see a golden era, the likes of which will surpass even the reign of Grover I” the Korporal said, looking in the direction of Griffenheim. “If one griffon is all it takes to bring an Empire to its knees, one griffon is all it takes to stand that Empire back on its legs.” “Maybe somebody like that would recognize the work we’re doing here. If only they had more dedicated griffons like us,” Fleidgling replied. His mind conjured up images of himself as a wealthy, decorated general going to parties and enjoying himself without a care. But he shook such thoughts from his head as he returned to the present. “Right. That’s another trip done, let's get down to the docks and ferry ourselves back to Thymíaustadt for our own pay.” Fleidgling checked his uniform and bags to make sure that nothing was forgotten or stolen. “Check your pockets, Guntram. You can never be too careful around these types.” Satisfied with his own item-check, he waited for Guntram to finish and shoulder his musket before striding down towards the docks. The Korporal marched with his head held high behind him. “Ein-zwei-drei-vier! Ein-zwei-drei-vier!” Guntram sounded out his own march for the rest of the trip, in the absence of anybody else willing to do so.
2. Arrival in ThymíaustadtThymíaustadt was not quite the city it once was. Since the Empire conquered these lands, it was almost unrecognizable from the days it had been under Minotaur rule. The buildings had been redone, Griffons lived there, and its original inhabitants had been barred entry from the city. Indeed, in spite of the fact that the griffon invaders were vastly outnumbered by the minotaur natives, the word of the griffon was law. Though the Asterionese archipelago was technically under Imperial rule via a local minotaur king, this walled city was the Kaiser’s bastion in Southern Griffonia, as well as the home port of the Southern Fleet. As their transport slowly came into port, Fliedgling noted one ship that stood out from the rest, outlined by the moonlight. It was far larger and carried heavier armament than any of the cruisers, yet not quite as big or armored as a battleship. From gossip that he had heard around the port he determined that the boat in question must have been the Austernfischer. The Austernfischer was a battlecruiser, one of the first of its kind. Designed with the purpose of chasing down lesser ships, while outmaneuvering any that might pose a fight, the admiralty was convinced that it would play a pivotal role in future naval doctrine. Fleidgling was certain they were raring to see it in combat. Fleidgling noticed he wasn’t the only one looking out. There was a sailor beside him on deck, admiring the city’s seaside. “Pardon me, but is that the battlecruiser i've been hearing so much about?” Fleidgling asked, looking towards the vessel. “Jawohl, Herr Hauptgreif. It is the flagship Austernfischer. It is a new design, there is even electricity onboard,” the sailor replied, confirming Fleidgling’s suspicions. “It was launched several months ago. The Countess Sumpfkiel was in attendance.” “Sumpfkiel herself? But I thought she wanted to open peaceful dialogue with the Minotaurs?” Fleidgling was a little surprised to hear her show support for increased military presence. One of her main goals since coming into power was to end the conflict between the resentful minotaurs and griffons, a status quo that had been present for centuries. The sailor merely looked at Fleidgling and shrugged. “The hull was laid down a little over a year ago. Herr Hauptgreif will recall the Count Sumpfkiel was alive then. This has long been planned, and a portion of the cost borne by the Admiralty.” “Hmm,” Fleidgling grunted with indifference and looked out to the fleet once more. Without Imperial support, he doubted that the griffons would be able to maintain their clawed grasp over these hostile lands for long. But his thoughts were interrupted by the loud wail of the ship's horn. “Ah, we’re finally docking! Oh, a nice rest from all this is just what I need,” Fleidgling made his way back to the bunks, where he found Guntram marching circles around the sack of funds, kept in one corner. “Korporal!” he shouted. In one quick movement, Guntram halted, unshouldered his musket, and aimed directly at Fleidgling. “Aah! Guntram, put that down!” Fleidgling ducked for cover around the other side of the hatchway. “Hauptgreif, is that you?” Guntram asked, still pointing his musket towards the entrance, slowly lowering it. “Yes, of course it’s me!” Fleidgling angrily cursed him from where he cowered. He entered again once he heard Guntram release a sigh. “Forgive me, mein Herr, I thought somebody was trying to steal the leftover funds,” Guntram explained, looking around the room warily. “So when I-” “Nevermind that!” Fleidgling interrupted, looking Guntram directly in the eyes. “Now, we are about to offboard. You are going to carry those funds with me to command, where we will fill out our reports, and meet back in three days’ time. Is that understood?” Fliedgling addressed him sternly, but maintained a level voice. “Jawohl, Herr Hauptgreif!” Guntram saluted and picked up the bag in his beak. Once Guntram was ready, Fleidgling led him off to the deck, making sure he maintained good form. By the time they reached the deck, the gangways had just been laid out. They technically had the ability to simply fly off, but to do so would have been a severe breach of protocol. Just as they began their descent, another officer flanked by several soldiers stopped them. “Halt! You are with the Asterion Garrison?” The officer asked. He was a shorter and relatively thinner griffon. The outline formed by his feathers seemed a little unkempt. In the darkness, Fleidgling couldn’t make out his insignia or assignment. “Yes, with Generaloberst Vögel’s group, the Eighth Regiment. Hauptgreif Germund Fleidgling and Korporal Guntram Arend,” Fleidgling replied, annoyed that he would have to wait a little longer before being dismissed. “And just who might you be?” Fliedgling could just make out a curve forming at the corners of the officer’s cheeks, which made him a little anxious. “Well?” He chuckled and turned to Guntram, hoping for some encouragement, but was met with the usual stoic look he maintained around other soldiers. “I am Major Grause, sent by command to inform you that you will not be staying in Thymíaustadt.” Grause observed with some curiosity as the color in Fliedgling’s plumage somehow faded, but continued. “Divisional headquarters has seen it fit for you to resume your rotation around the islands, effective immediately. You will be confined to troop quarters onboard until the transport is of sufficient distance from port.” “But surely-” Fleidgling started. “Silence!” Grause shouted before he had a chance to say more. “You will do exactly as ordered.” “Y-yes, H-h-herr-r Major.” He was momentarily taken aback at this outburst, grasping the railing for support. “You are to remain on this transport for the next two hours, until it departs. During that time, you are not to make any contact with griffons on the docks, civilian or military. A squadron from the Southern Fleet will accompany you on your voyage, Once in Thebos, you will perform your duties as normal, until further orders are received.” Grause stated the rest of Fleidgling’s orders without missing a beat. “Aha!” Fleidgling began. “Herr Major, I must inform you, I cannot carry out my duties without a new supply of Idols. I am paymaster after all,” he nervously chortled, gesturing to the empty bag Guntram held and his own insignia. “I’m afraid you will simply have to let me through and notify command that this cannot go ahead,” he stated, as he began tugging at Guntram to walk forward with him. Guntram, for his part, merely looked away. “Not to worry, Hauptgreif, we have your Idols right here.” Grause turned to one of the soldiers. “Unteroffizier, the Idols, please.” The soldier grabbed a sack resting on the dockside, extending it towards an incredulous Fleidgling. He could do nothing but accept. In return, the soldier took the empty sack from Guntram. “B-but, uh, isn’t this bag a little too light to have the proper amount?” Fleidgling asked, weighing it in his talons. “I am certain you will find the amount to be more than adequate for your revised duties. Oh, and you will be needing this too. This should supplement your revolver and sword quite nicely,” he said with a pleasant tone in his voice, presenting a musket before Fleidgling. It was even more worn than the one Guntram used. “Now, Hauptgreif Fleidgling, if there is nothing else, I believe that will be all. Good evening,” Grause proclaimed with no small amount of smugness in his voice. He turned around and disembarked. “Yes. Good Evening, Herr Major.” Fleidgling gave a half-hearted salute. Major Grause returned it without even looking, as he walked away. “Well Guntram,” he began, handing over the bag of Idols as he prepared to re-embark. “There goes our time off. A whole evening, to be spent stuck in our quarters” Fleidgling looked down at his musket. “But there’s something else I don’t like about this. There simply can’t be enough Idols in that bag to last more than a few postings.” “I estimate no more than ten thousand Idols.” Guntram shook the bag, and sighed. “Unfortunately, Herr Hauptgreif, it seems not all the officers share the same foresight you do. I am certain that if you were in command, things would be done the right way down here. But regrettably, we can only follow orders.” Before they moved into their quarters, Fleidgling gave a last, forlorn look towards Thymíaustadt; among the lights of the city and the ships of the Southern Fleet preparing for the voyage, he saw the major talking over some arrangements with a crewgriff. Fleidgling followed a marching Guntram into their quarters. Though he was in good form as usual, Guntram called out no cadence this time.
3. A Hard Fought BargainThe transport creaked and groaned as the waves pushed it from side to side. Guntram’s loud snores were accentuated by his position against the wall, while his officer took post “guarding” the idols (Guntram had insisted on a proper and complete changing of the guard before he let himself rest). “Out of all the places I could have been sent… Cloudbury, Griffonstone, even Haukland! It had to be Asterion…” Fleidgling paced back and forth in frustration. “My classmates are having a merry time with all the conveniences of modern life, and I’m relegated to some hostile backwater. Do you believe this, Korporal?” A long snore was his only response. “Yes, I’m beginning to think we may never get out of this place. How long have we been going around the islands, anyway?” Snork. “Can you imagine all the festivals, all the outings we’re missing out on? All the griffons we could have met?” His frustration gave way to a dangerous curiosity. Fleidgling had to take a moment’s pause. “Yes… the griffons we could have met. Guntram, why were they so quick to ensure we didn’t leave the ship? Were they afraid we would forget to return?” Fleidgling’s spoken thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock at the hatchway. Through the porthole on the hatch, he saw the crewgriff the major had spoken to earlier, beckoning him forth. He appeared a little nervous. “Well, what’s this now…” Fleidgling strode to the hatch, a little cautiously. Once he was close enough, the griffon opened it just a crack. “Hey, you might want to take a look at this. I got my talons on a message the major entrusted me with after you went in, and whe-ew!” The griffon whistled and wiped his head for exaggerated effect. “It does NOT look good for you.” “What? What is it?” Fleidgling demanded. Now he was getting anxious. Though he pried at the hatch, the griffon still held it at just a crack. “Shh, shh. Keep your voice down,” the griffon whispered. His eyes kept switching between Fleidgling and something on the other side of the hatch. “Now, you are paymaster right? That means you’ve got plenty of idols?” “Well… yes,” Fleidgling whispered back. He could tell what was coming next. As much as the rankers tried, they had never been able to press him to take part in bribery. Until now. “Uh, yeah, this is going to cost you.” “...Fine.” Fleidgling quietly went to the sack and withdrew some coins, careful to make absolutely sure Guntram was asleep. “Here’s twenty idols” he grumbled, depositing them into a pouch extended through the hatchway. The griffon yanked it back through and counted them all immediately, looking back to Fleidgling satisfied. “Alright, listen closely.” He peeked the tip of his beak inside. “On Thebos? Where we’re dropping you off?” “Yes, yes, what of it?” Fleidgling was giving his full attention to this. “Things will be going normally there. But then they’re moving you to Prospero and, well…” he trailed off. “Well?” The door opened just a little more, and the pouch was extended through again. With a sigh, Fleidgling retrieved 20 more idols. “Well, they expect the locals will be, eh, emboldened by the recent news. No griffons can be spared. Now look, I can’t stay here all night. I can just give you the parchment itself… for a few idols more. Don’t be so glum. I’m sure you can afford it, Herr paymaster,” he said, complete with a mock salute. “This is an outrage,” the paymaster whispered with as much ferocity as he could, but he begrudgingly brought the whole bag towards the door nonetheless. “How much is it for our release from confinement,” he gestured towards the sleeping Korporal, “in addition to the full set of orders?” The crewgriff was staring at the bag giddy like now. “D-d-do I hear, mmm, one thousand idols?” “One thousand idols!” Fleidgling was dumbstruck. He was demanding a small fortune. This was just going too far now. And Fleidgling was about to say no… until he saw the sleeping Guntram in the corner of his vision. “Alright, fine then,” he said, his face and tone becoming far more amicable. “One thousand idols is just alright. In fact, if you’ll just slip the orders inside, I’ll let you help yourself to the bag! I trust you’ll be able to count the right amount?” He added a wink to be extra sure the greedy griffon didn’t miss his offer. That was all Fleidgling needed to say. Fleidgling could tell from the griffon’s shaky movements as he slipped through that it took all the self-inhibition the griffon had to stop himself from bursting in. “H-here. This has the orders regarding you, information for the local commander, and a-anything else you might need to know..” Fleidgling snatched it from his grip, and walked further back inside, as the griffon took as many idols from the bag as he could at a time. Fleidgling smiled. He didn’t even need to wait for the griffon to get lost in the coins. “Oh Korporal…” He lightly stroked Guntram’s head with the tip of his wing as he whispered into the Korporal’s ear coverts. “Wake up, Guntram…” Snerk! “Hmm, hmm, yes, Herr Hauptgreif?” Guntram was beginning to come to, though he wasn’t fully awake. “Korporal. Stand up, please.” Fleidgling wasn’t in too much of a hurry. He knew he had plenty of time. “Mmph... ” Guntram got up and saluted, using his musket for support. “Reporting, Herr Hauptgreif!” “Korporal, look around. Do you see the idols we’re in charge of?” Fleidgling said, with less concern than he should have had. Guntram looked around the room, but saw nothing. “No, Herr Hauptgreif. I do not…” Words failed him as he began to comprehend what was going on. “Hey… Herr Hauptgreif, the Idols! They are gone! They are-” The Korporal, now completely awake, spotted the oblivious crewgriff still rummaging through the sack. The pockets of his uniform were bulging with coinage now. “Aha! A thief! Halt! Stay where you are!” Guntram shouted as he ran towards the culprit with his musket in grip, poised to attack. Fleidgling watched with knowing amusement as he stood where he was. “Well done, Guntram.” He smiled, mentally praising his own ingenuity. “What is this?” The griffon shouted, angry that he was being forcefully stopped from claiming any more Idols. “These are mine! Your officer gave them to me, in exchange for information!” “You dare to accuse Herr Fleidgling of bribery?” His attempts to defend himself only further aggravated the Korporal who stood with raised haunches and tail. “Ach, this is too much! You have gone too far!” “Oi! Calm down, ask Herr ‘Fledgling’ or ‘Feigling’ or whatever it was, he’ll verify it!” The griffon was backing away into a corner, still dragging the bag with him. He did not want to part. “I have never spoken to this griffon before,” Fleidgling said with an air of indifference, not even bothering to look. “Hmph! Theft, accusation of bribery, and blatant disrespect of a superior officer! This cannot go unpunished, I give you one last chance to stand down!” Guntram was closing the distance, gun barrel pointed right at the griffon, who had hit a wall. “Enough! Damn each of you! Maar guide your souls!” The griffon hissed as he reached for a dagger around his lower body, but Guntram winded in with a solid punch before he could take it out in time, knocking him straight into the wall with a CLANG! Neither Fleidgling nor Guntram said a word as they watched the griffon slide down the wall, onto the ground. After a few moments of silence, he slumped over, moaning and grasping at his head. Fleidgling exhaled in relief, while Guntram took a moment to take a couple deep breaths, calming down. “The nerve of some griffons,” was all Guntram said. “Right… Korporal. See to it that all idols on him are returned to the sack. We’ll have the Kapitän deal with him later.” “Jawohl, Herr Hauptgreif.” Satisfied that the incident had been dealt with, Fleidgling opened the scroll the griffon traded him earlier. The orders that were to be delivered to the commanding officer at Thebos. Fleidgling’s limbs stiffened and his tail dropped low as he read through it. “Oh dear.” “Civilian uprising in the heartlands, joined by soldiers… mass desertions… nobility fleeing… and they march on the young Kaiser in Griffenheim!” Each problem seemed worse than the last. Guntram had occupied himself with roughly stuffing idols back into the sack, unable to hear his superior’s broodings over the loud clink of the coins. But insurrection in the Empire did not seem so worrying as what Fleidgling read next. “By order of Chief of the Emperor’s General Staff, Generaloberst von Vinnin: armies determined to be of too great a distance from Griffenheim are to hold their territories from revolt at all costs, until further notice.” There was an added addendum by the Cyanolisian General Staff. “Von Cannabia sees it wise that spare troops in the region be sent to garrison the Minotaur islands. The bulls in Cyanolisia have been kept down. There is suspiciously little unified resistance noted, we hope to maintain the situation. Should news of weakness spread to Asterion, the uprising would likely be of an unprecedented scale. It is highly unlikely that we will be able to maintain order in such a situation, troops should be sent to delay Minotaurs as long as possible while mainland garrisons are bolstered.” He read aloud. The frazzled Fleidgling could not help but pluck at his contour feathers, though he refrained from removing them completely to maintain what dignity he could. “Ach du lieber!” Guntram finished re-packing the idols, and noticing something amiss with his superior, walked over beside him. “What is the matter Herr Hauptgreif?” Fleidgling turned to tell Guntram the bad news. “The Heartlands are in mass turmoil, and we’re being sent on a… on a...” he scrambled to find the proper word, and failed. Instead using the first substitute that came to mind. “A suicide assignment!” He splayed his wings in exasperation. “That message left Griffenheim half a month ago. There's no telling how the situation has changed since.” “Oh... that is indeed terrible,” Guntram said with a downtrodden look as he removed his helmet. “Terrible? This could be it for us! Do you remember Prospero when we were there just a few weeks ago?” Fleidgling took Guntram by the shoulder and shook him vigorously with a free claw. “We would wake up with bullet holes in our tents! And that was before the situation started deteriorating!” “Her-r-r Hauptgr-reiff, it is against regulation for…” Guntram didn’t need to finish before Fleidgling let him go. The paymaster sighed, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry, Guntram, it’s just that.. Ugh. What are we to do?” The Korporal shrugged. “What can we do?” “What can we do…?” Fleidgling turned to him with a pained look. “...We’re going to take a walk on deck.”
4. Das kann doch einen Hauptgreif erschütternThey were several kilometers from Thymíaustadt port now. There was a squadron of ships from the Southern Fleet forming up near them, along with a few more transports, though they were still a distance away. “Probably some other unlucky souls who got caught up in this,” Fleidgling thought as he gazed longingly at the mainland from over a rail, Guntram beside him. “To think that something as simple as a letter could dictate the fate of so many brilliant griffons,” the paymaster voiced his woes to the sea. “I am afraid, Herr, that the garrisons would have been troubled regardless. There is only so long they will be able to keep the news from the Minotaurs, before…” Fwew! Guntram huffed exaggeratedly . “I was referring to us, Korporal.” Fleidgling scolded him half-heartedly. “Oh, but what’s the use in fighting it? It may as well be written in stone. Let’s just head back in and hope we wake up on some sunny…” His words died in his throat as he noticed something curious on the horizon. Out of the corner of his eye, he could swear he saw a sudden bright light. He quickly turned his head towards it but It disappeared before he could get a good look. “Korporal, did you see that? I thought I saw a flash, by the escort ships.” “Yes, yes, I thought I saw one too. What do you supp- there! Another! That came from the long one.” “What is it? Is it a flare? Some spell, signal?” The answer came roaring past with the force of a thousand gales, nearly sending them into the air. Fleidgling clung onto one of Guntram’s lower legs, while the Korporal held onto the railing. It was all they could do to avoid being tossed about by the now tumultuous waves. “An explosion! It’s a raid, or a bombardment, or something!” Fleidgling exclaimed, still holding onto Guntram, who was now getting up. “The ships! They are listing! At least three of them have been hit.” Guntram reported. “Listing? But that... “ Fleidgling crawled up to the railing, peeking just his eyes over the edge. Immediately, he dropped back down after seeing the damage. “The Austernfischer! Sunk! An explosion like that, some enchantments, there’s no way she’ll recover.” “More explosions in the dockyards, Herr Hauptgreif! It must be sabotage. The minotaurs!” “Guntram, this transport could be next!” Fleidgling lightly tugged down on the Korporal’s uniform as he sat, wide-eyed. “Guntram…” His tone suddenly changed. He sounded calmer.“Guntram... why should we die for the Empire?” “Well, Herr Hauptgreif, that is because-” “No, Guntram. Why should we let some von Schmitt play the role of puppet master, as they use us to put out a flame? One that’s safe in a fire pit, while another blaze engulfs their home?” A sense of purpose overtook the paymaster, as if the fire within him, long since smothered by helplessness, had been rekindled and given new life. “Think of how much more we could do elsewhere! What a senseless waste of potential this is.” “W-well, m-m-ein Herr-” “And what difference does the presence of two griffons make? We’ll probably get killed like the rest, and it won’t even buy the Cyanolisians any more time.” Fleidgling now stood, looking to the mainland once more, but with defiance. “I will not let my fate be decided by an erroneous order, sent by some officer who never even set their eyes upon a minotaur fighter. Korporal! We are going to fly back to the mainland, and we are going to go… somewhere! Anywhere but Asterion, you understand me?” He looked at Guntram, who was in a state of wonderment, sternly in the eyes. Years of scorn for the military hierarchy were working their way through him. “And we are going to go, right now. Take the Idols with us, it never hurts to keep a small fortune on you.” With that, Fleidgling looked towards the stern of the transport. The crew would be too busy with their own worries to notice, or care, he decided. He made sure his uniform was properly buttoned, that his helmet was tied around tightly, and charged, unfurling his wings and rocketing into the air with a kick. Guntram shut his eyes and stood still for several moments. “This would by all means be an unacceptable defiance of the chain of command...” He turned around to get a longer running start, and took off to catch up with Fleidgling.
5. A Trying TorrentCatching up, as it turned out, wasn’t nearly as difficult as Guntram thought it would be. Whereas the more slender Fleidgling began tiring after the first few minutes of flight against the harsh sea wind, Guntram had always kept himself in peak physical form, a model griffon soldier. Even with all his equipment, in addition to the large sack of idols, he knew he could keep this up for some time. “Herr Hauptgreif,” Guntram shouted over the wind as he closed the distance. “Perhaps you might fare better if you dropped your musket?” Fleidgling looked down. As the Korporal said, he was clutching the gun tight to his chest. “Why did I even bring this?” he muttered to himself, and let go, watching as it dropped, hundreds of meters below. The musket landed in the water hard, the sound drowned under the rumblings of the waves. Its rigid body held strong as the sea poured made its home in any openings, any old scratches or etchings it could find, thrashing the piece mercilessly to and fro. Before long it had been swallowed whole by the waves. That was the last that any griffon would ever see of it. The thought that he might suffer the same fate unnerved Fleidgling, but at the same time drove him to keep pushing on. Fleidgling squinted and looked to the mainland again. Just a few kilometers away. He was quite out of his element here. Years of drill exemptions from his position were working their way up from his wingtips. Flap Flap Flap. It was a dull ache, for now. Fleidgling soon became aware of something else: it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay level. Guntram called it out. “Downdraft!” Noticing his officer’s struggle, Guntram used his strength to push on in front of and just to the left of Fleidgling, to counteract the downwards forces. “Keep going straight, sir! We should be through before long.” “G-Guntram! Do- phew -do you t-think there’s an updraft just ahead?” The ache was warming into a heavy throb. He couldn’t get enough air, yet each breath sent a dry pain into the officer’s lungs and through his bones. Guntram could see where things were headed. He slowed down, until he was just in front of Fleidgling. “Just grab onto me and hold on tight, Hauptgreif!” “I-I think I can make it!” Fleidgling said, not wanting to give in. “Grab! And! Hold!” The Korporal shouted, turning his head to face Fleidgling directly. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” Fleidgling raised his wings for one last push, and lunged forwards, clawing his way up Guntram until he felt secure, hugging him around the belly. Guntram breathed a sigh of relief when he felt Fleidgling climb onto him. In training, they told him that the things they were preparing him for simply could never be expected. He hadn’t quite understood then, but went along with it anyways. But now, as he carried his gun, a sack of ten thousand Idols, his officer, and himself through the night, he finally thought he understood. The rest of the flight passed almost peacefully, as they escaped the downdraft, and finally touched down in a seaside plain beside Thymíaustadt. Fleidgling was still riding the back of the Korporal, not daring to open his eyes even as they were now still. “Herr… Hauptgreif...” Guntram managed between breaths. “We are here. Back on the mainland.” “We are?” He timidly revealed an eye to peek out at their surroundings. He could make out rolling forms of green grass, the distant city. “Aha, we are!” Fleidgling opened his other eye and got up, jumping off Guntram. “Woah!” His front legs gave in the moment they hit the ground and his upper body followed, slamming his beak directly into the dirt. Guntram immediately swiveled around with worry, about to pull him back up. “Hauptgreif, are you alright? I-” “I’m fine. Just a little… tired is all.” Fleidgling panted,taking a moment to regain his bearings. After a moment, he finally pushed himself back up with a grunt, wiping his uniform and feathers in an attempt to preserve what dignity he had left. Guntram couldn’t help but chuckle in spite of the situation. As Fleidgling took the time to preen, Guntram looked around at their surroundings. “So, mein Herr, what comes now?” Fleidgling paused, looking up from his feathers to laugh nervously. “Good question.” “It would be impractical to stay here, either in the city or in the outback.” “Indeed, Guntram. Not only are we traitors to the Imperial Army, but we still have other enemies as well. “But where are we to go then? That status renders half of the continent inaccessible! Neither Wingbardy nor Aquileia or any other secessionist territories would welcome us either.” Fleidgling gazed at the landscape around them. “We’re not safe in any lands held by, or formerly held by the Empire. The Riverlands?” he announced, but immediately shook his head. “No, they don’t like our kind there, not at all. Not to mention how uncomfortable life on the southeastern coasts would be. Similar problem in the north. Gah, why did the Empire have to be so big?” “Somewhere in Zebrica, perhaps?” Guntram tried to help. “Mm, no, most of that continent is too dangerous or just plain odd, for my taste. What place is unprejudiced against Griffons and also unaffected by the Empire?” Fleidgling paced back and forth as dozens of locations, cities, nations, ran through his mind. But one in particular stuck with him. “Not too strange, hostile, or a history with the Empire... Equestria!” “Not to worry, Guntram.” He beamed. “I know just where we can go! We’ll find our way to New Mareland, and from there, it’ll be an easy ride to Equestria! We won’t have to worry about hiding our pasts, griffons looking for revenge, or extradition! It’s the perfect destination!” “How will we get to New Mareland?” “We have wings, we have paws! That’s how.” Fleidgling laughed as he displayed his limbs. “With all due respect Herr Hauptgreif, will it not be difficult, traversing all that terrain, crossing those borders, avoiding any hostiles? Perhaps there is a simpler option?” “Ah, Guntram. I’m sure that with my skills, my expertise and my bravery we will have little to fear.” Fleidgling draped a wing over the back over the still somewhat uncertain Korporal. “Das Leben ist ein Ponyhof.” Author's Note Many thanks to Superior Birb and Jean De Basse for providing invaluable editing services, including (but not limited to) aid in rewording, revising, general tips, and giving their opinions on certain ideas.
