The Ghost: Assorted Adventures

“Ease off a’tha throttle, Powder! Rusty, ensure the lifelines be secure. Trottingham, ho!”

The bellowing squack of Captain Gorn was inescapable. Orders flew from his beak like daggers, enforcing his command upon the crew of the Tornado. They worked like a well-oiled machine, at the direction of their gryphon captain, as they made all preparations for their descent upon the city of Trottingham, capital of the annexed territory of the Griffish Isles. A soot-colored unicorn, Powder, yanked the shut-off valve with his teeth to starve the roaring flame of oxygen, hastening their descent. Dock workers below made way for the incoming airship and latched their own tethers to the hull, ending with a satisfying thud as the ship touched down.

A procession had gathered at the port. The group of regular guardponies and a few dignitaries made their ginger approach toward the gangplank of the ship. At their front stood a duo of earth ponies. The shorter one a creamy orange color, with eyes of plain brown and sporting a delicate white dress coat, while the taller pony merely wore a tie and collar combo, exposing his mahogany fur to the chill breeze. The entourage made a slight bow as their awaited guest, Lord Aristo of Coltistrano, followed by Rusty, descended the gangplank and clopped his hooves against the stone port. The mahogany pony cleared his throat and spoke.

“My lord, it is our pleasure to host one so graceful. I am Councilor Bronze Hoof. When your missive arrived, my master made it his mission to ensure a safe and comfortable visit to our humble city. Please, allow me to introduce you.” Bronze Hoof motioned toward the shorter pony. “Lord Aristo, this is the governor of Trottingham, Lord Pish Posh.”

Pish Posh extended a dainty hoof to Silver, a feminine laugh following behind it. Aristo received the gesture and nodded.

“Lord Posh,” he began. “Trottingham is such a lovely view from the air. I can only hope the ground is equally splendid.”

“It most certainly is, Aristo. On that I promise. Come now, we must begin the tour!” With a firm clap of his hooves, Lord Pish Posh led his contingent of guards, Silver and Rusty into the town proper.

Trottingham, from the air, was a collection of brown roofs and white buildings poking up from the cascade of fir trees. On the ground, however, the city was abuzz with merchants and trading. Rows of market stalls to provide whatever foreign goods one could imagine, clean buildings of white accented by dark wood beams and supports, and even large parks flanking the central thoroughfare. Everywhere Silver was led he was made ever more aware of the shared culture of the city, a blend between the clean and eye-catching artistry of Equestria, and the firm, dependable construction of imperial-era Griffonstone. It was much of what he wanted Coltistrano to be, someday.

Beside him, Rusty incessantly sniffed the air. His tail, ears, and nose all pivoted in different directions as he took in his new surroundings, getting the lay of the land. It was a far more amusing sight than the excitable babbling Pish Posh gave about his city. Suddenly, all of Rusty’s wayward limbs shifted toward one direction. He began to run and, with only a moment to announce his inevitable departure, Silver was pulled along with him. The two bounded through the streets, their escorts galloping after them, frantically. Ponies watched with either amusement or horror at the sight of a full-sized diamond dog dragging his earth pony friend away from the central market. The crowds began to shift, Silver noticed, from ponies into gryphons before Rusty came to a screeching halt in front of a slate colored storefront nestled tight between rows of similar, aged shops.

“G&G Sweets…” Silver hummed. “Yeah, I agree, Gilda’s got to be in there.”

“Oh goodness gracious!” Pish Posh hollered after them, with Bronze Hoof and guards in tow. “Are you unharmed, my lord! I feared the brute meant to rip your legs asunder.”

“The brute is my escort and friend,” Silver declared in a firm tone. “It would be unbecoming of a governor to deny him the same respect you show me.”

“Oh! Oh, goodness, forgive me!” Pish Posh stepped to a nervous Rusty and held his paw. “I forget myself, sometimes. Hardly anything exciting happens here and… with Princess Twilight as my witness, sir, I apologize for my candor.”

Rusty gave an anxious smile, tail tucking between his legs, and stuck to Silver’s side. The argent-maned pony led his friend to the door of the shop and pushed open. All tension was swept away by the enticing aroma that permeated the quaint little bakery. It was a heavy scent, thick with maple and hazelnut, and the two could almost taste the air as the kitchen door swung open. A gryphon, fur stained with batter and sugar, stepped up with a huff.

“What do you g-... I-I mean,” she distractedly stammered, wiping the sugar from herself. “Welcome to G&G’s, do you have an order or… yo!”

The jubilant gryphon vaulted over the counter and charged her two visitors. She scooped them into her claws and held tight, laughing as she did, before allowing her friends some much needed room to breathe.

“Jeez, you sure took your time, did the dweeb get you lost, Rusty?” Gilda scratched Rusty’s head, earning a dopey smile. “Hey, rag head.”

“Hey, feather face,” Silver teased. “Loving the digs, and here I thought all the talk of baking was just hot air.”

“Pfft, have some faith, dude. Ooh! I almost forgot. Greta! Hey, Greta, get down here and meet the nerds!”

After a few anxious seconds, a second gryphon crested the stairwell and descended. Her fur was darker than Gilda’s, and sported a green fringe with her white-feathered head. Blue irises locked onto Silver and Rusty, before retracting. She waved a lethargic claw.

“Hey, G said you’d be coming.” Greta’s voice was hardly excited at the prospect of company, but she still held a smile. “You get that final dozen done?”

“It’s been done for an hour,” Gilda replied, with a hint of irritation. “You were supposed to deliver it already.”

“I was upstairs checking the books. Sales haven’t been that great since we got pushed out of Mane St..”

“They won’t get better if our deliveries are stale, Greta! Hop to it-… please.”

Greta huffed and turned to the kitchen door. Before passing Gilda, though, she placed a solitary claw upon her shoulder, which was returned by the other gryphon. Silver and Rusty could only stand and watch the exchange before Gilda returned her attention to them.

“So, you two wanna get a drink? I know a few good boozers in this town, if that’s what you’re into.” A waggle of her brow brought a chuckle out of Silver.

“Maybe later, Gilda, your letter sounded like there was trouble in town. Is everything okay?”

“Gilda not hurt, yes? Rusty chomp whoever hurt birdcat!”

“Guys, guys, I’m fine! Well,” she said, downcast. “We were fine, and I need help, yeah. I… ugh, this story’s easier with a drink.”

She leaned against the polished front counter, reached over, produced a bottle of Sweet Apple Acres Hard Buck whiskey and popped the cork.

“Day drinking, Gilda?” Silver asked, incredulously.

“I ain’t nopony’s role model. Besides, you’ll understand when I’m done.” She let the cool, brown liquid pass through her beak, punctuating the stinging beverage with a satisfied sigh.

“Alright, so here’s the deal. Greta and I made the long trek from Griffonstone to here, Trottingham, to set up this diabetes-bar we call a bakery. Had a nice place on Mane St., lots of customers, real peachy. That is, until we both get a message from the governor, that mophead out there…”

Gilda’s extended claw led Silver and Rusty’s vision out the window toward Lord Pish Posh, who anxiously waited by the front door.

“Saying we have to close up shop and find new digs. “Imminent domain” or whatever. So, after a sternly worded letter from yours truly-”

“She stood outside the governor’s house and squawked for an hour straight,” Greta deadpanned, carrying her lukewarm box of pasties over her wings out the back door.

“Yours truly, we were given an ultimatum. Either find a new store, or find a new city, and here’s the kicker…” Gilda took another swig, the glass clacking against her beak. “We’re not the only ones it’s happened to.”

“Others?” Silver’s hoof found its way to his chin, unaware of Rusty mimicking the action. “Was there any explicit reason? Something that would make you want to find a new building?”

“Nope, just an expensive looking letter and a firm kick in the flank by the town guard.” From behind the counter Gilda produced the letter and passed it to Silver. There was a perceptible heft to it, and the envelope held the governor’s seal but lacked a signature. “We thought we’d just shrug it off, but then it happened to Garm and his sisters, and Gwyndolin from the tannery. All gryphons, too. That’s when we knew something was up.”

“It can’t really be all gryphons, can it?” Silver’s eyes were fixed on the sleek parchment, taking in its every detail.

“It is,” Rusty piped up. “Many gryphons in this part, but many ponies in nice parts. No gryphons, though.”

“How do you even know that?” Silver eyed his canine friend with amazement.

“Nose knows.” Rusty’s meaty paw pointed toward his dark black nose which gave a proud sniff. Silver could only nod in agreement and turned back to GIlda.

“If that’s true, then we’ll have to investigate. I’d hate to think Equestria is being tormented by another elitist in power.”

“Can’t see why not, they seem like your type.”

“Not what I mean, Gilda,” Silver chided.

“Ooh! Rusty help! Rusty want to be hero like you, and bug pony!”

“We’ll get to that, Rusty, but first we need to know what we’re walking into. Let’s head back to Posh and Bronze Hoof, then we’ll decide what to do. If anything happens, Gilda, you know how to reach us.”

Gilda waved a lethargic claw at the two before they turned to exit the bakery. Upon crossing the doorway, Pish Posh jolted at their sudden return and straightened himself. Bronze Hoof did the same, and took a step toward Silver and Rusty.

“My lord, I trust everything is alright? The way your friend carried you off like that, well, we feared there might have been an emergency.”

“Nothing of the sort, Bronze Hoof, Rusty here has a keen nose that sometimes gets the better of him. I am curious, though, about these outer neighborhoods of Trottingham. For an annexed territory, one would suspect them to be dominated by ponies instead of gryphons.”

“Ah, yes, you are a keen one, my lord.” Bronze Hoof urged everypony along the tour once more. “It is a most tragic affair, to be sure. The untimely demise of King Guto caused much disarray within Griffonstone. Many gryphons were forced to either make due with dwindling resources, or seek refuge somewhere else. In the panic, the former governor of the Griffish Isles offered loose trade regulations with Equestria, and before long Trottingham, and the isle itself, came under the Princesses’ rule. Many of the gryphons here are either from that time or descendant from them.”

“Nevertheless,” Pish Posh interrupted. “The gryphons living in Trottingham are as Equestrian as any other citizen, disparity aside.”

“Disparity?” Silver raised an eyebrow to Pish Posh, who trotted obliviously beside him, before turning his gaze to Bronze Hoof. He returned a shrug.

“Now come,” Pish Posh continued, excitedly. “We have a most exquisite suite reserved for you at the Canter Commons Hotel. They boast a fantastic restaurant, and a view you’ll never forget!”