Leutnant Mathias Vogelfeder hurriedly made his way down the dark back alleys of Griffinheim. The cold winter air burned in his lungs, a light snow drifting from the dark clouds above, the lamplights burning eerily like torches guiding his path. Eventually he arrived at the city barracks where two sentry-griffs stopped him at the gate. He showed them his credentials. One quick radio relay and it was done. They gave him a salute and let him pass.
Down the dark corridors of concrete and steel he descended, passing many sharp uniformed officers and NCOs as he did so, eventually making it to Wachposten Drei, where a gaunt faced griff waited for him behind a desk.
“Your business?”
“I must see Oberstleutnant Dawnclawn at once.”
“He’s given strict orders to not to be disturbed.”
“It’s urgent. Tell him...tell him it involves a heart ache.”
The secretary gave him a knowing nod and wound his field-phone before relaying the message. A moment later and he was ushered into the inner sanctum, where the sound of distant music echoed off the walls.
Traversing a long hall, he eventually arrived to the door of the Hauptquartier, where two large griffs stood on either side ready with bolt action rifles. Vogelfeder thought for a moment that they may try to stop him, but let him pass unimpeded, saluting him as he passed.
Inside the music filled the room – the grainy static of a phonograph mixed with the clear, distinct pitch of a songbird cadencing a melancholic liedchen. The words rang out clearly and sharply:
“Il mio tesoro intanto…”
Vogelfeder recognized it at once. It was from one of the best known Wingbardian operas that had taken Griffenheim by storm when it first premiered. It was a tale of treachery and lust and a nobleman who would stop at nothing to satisfy them both. He knew this song too. It was the aria of the loyal fiancé who vows to slay the villainous nobleman and avenge his dishonored beloved.
Tell her the wrongs she’s suffered,
I go to avenge,
And only tidings of killing and death
will announce my return.
What surprised Vogelfeder most, however, was Dawnclaw himself. He stood in the middle of the room, eyes closed in mediation, with his claws suspended in the air, as if enraptured in a trance. He made a sound to announce himself but was quickly silenced by a talon held up by the commanding griff who wagged it back and forth as a reprimand.
Vogelfeder bit his tongue and indulged him, though he admitted that there seemed to be a sense of farce in this display, like something more appropriate for the opera itself than to a military griff. Yet he could not help listen, with enraptured fascination, as the griff began to harmonize with the singer on the record, his clear, deep voice like the bounding roll of the ocean, soothing and majestic but terrifying and powerful.
When at last the aria came to its conclusion the Oberstleutant serenely opened his eyes before picking up a nearby toothpick and placing it in his beak.
“What can I do for you, Leutnant?”
His voice was the very definition of civility, his diction precise and even, with each syllable an elegant note played in a well-tuned strophe.
“Yes sir,” Vogelfeder replied hesitantly. “I need to make an urgent report.”
“Proceed.”
“I was just informed on good authority that the Duchess is mustering troops at the royal palace and is planning to march this very night on the army barracks to initiate a purge.”
Dawnclaw’s face turned pale.
“You are sure of this?”
“Jawohl, sir. I saw them myself – at least three regiments of Diamond Dogs are forming up as we speak.”
“And do you know what time they will move?”
“I do not. All I know is that Generalfeldmarschall Bronzetail will be leading them.”
Vogelfeder, if only for a fleeting moment, saw his commander’s composure break and showed under his imperturbable exterior a griff who was wracked with distress and uncertainty. His eyes darted back and forth, as if searching in his mind for explanation or perhaps a quick assessment of what options lay before him. Then, as suddenly as his countenance had fallen, it returned, and that same stoic demeanor washed over him, his course resolved.
“Shall I ready the griffs, sir?” Vogelfeder asked.
Dawnclaw nodded as he looked into a nearby mirror and calmly straightened his uniform.
~
The barracks was full of commotion. Soldiers, some fully uniformed but many half-dressed in night attire, gathered eagerly around the assembly hall to hear the urgent announcement. There were many murmured rumors flying all around until the imposing figure of Dawnclaw stepped into the room and the voices died away one by one.
The Oberstleutnant cleared his throat before addressing them in a voice that rolled like thunder:
“Soldiers! Brave sons of the Reich, Proud defenders of the Heimat, Loyal griffs all, I do not stand before you this evening as your commander but as your comrade and your brother. You all know me and how faithfully I have served our Empire. I am a soldier. My first and only duty above all else is to my nation and to guard her against all of her enemies.”
He grasped the Eisernes Kreuz and held it up for everyone to see.
“I earned this in the service of my Emperor, it is a symbol of the devotion that every soldier carries in his heart. It is our creed, our sacred oath: loyalty even unto death. I did not take that oath with a light heart, nor, am I sure, did any of you, but now the time has come, once again, to uphold our honor and to fulfill our oaths.
“I have just received intelligence that the Duchess is at this very moment preparing to come and arrest us. She has labelled me a traitor! She has labelled all of you traitors!”
A roar of disapproval and scorn erupted from the soldiers.
“We, who have given our lives and our blood, are now considered enemies of the state! Our Empire is on the verge of ruin, and so now there is only one option left to us: we must fight!”
Dawnclaw stepped atop a table and unsheathed his saber.
“Now is the time, soldiers! This is the moment where the fate of nations lies in the balance. We are all that is left – just us. If we falter in our duty now, ages and generations coming will look at this moment and rightfully condemn us. But if you are like me, and feel the righteous anger of a patriot’s zeal burning inside of you, let us go boldly and face our enemies, as we have so many times before. We will triumph or our blood will be inscribed forever as the legacy of martyrs in the annals of the nation. Could any of you say there is anything more glorious than this?
“My comrades, my brothers...as I look upon your faces and know this may be the last time we may see each other in this life, but know that if you falter, I will always be in front of you.”
He took his saber and violently thrust it through his cap and held it aloft.
“Soldiers! With me! Who will come with me!?”
There came such a cheer that the very foundations of the earth felt shaken and there were many faces that were hidden for their cheeks were wet with tears. They rallied to their commander – their leader – and chanted his name, over and over, and each griff stretched forth their claws, if only to catch a bit of the sacred glow that seemed to emanate from him.
Dawnclaw, never one prone to emotionalism, couldn’t help but be caught up in the exuberance of the moment himself, and obliged their gestures of loyalty by returning them with gracious smiles and shaking as many claws as he could.
In the midst of this great outpouring of patriotic fervor, the song of Reichstreue began to be sung spontaneously from the great mass:
We are the soldiers made of iron,
We stand for Griffin strength and pride
Our deeds of valor go before us:
The good old Griffin army’s stride.
So close the ranks up sure and steady
The final battle is at hand,
Our souls are true, our hearts ready
To fight to save our sacred land!
Now Brothers come, let’s march together,
Let the cards fall where they may!
Our loyalty is bound forever!
Our banner always wins the day!
For Dawnclaw the die had been cast. He saw before him, with absolute clarity, the path that he must take. Now would not be the time for hesitation or for pity. It would be thankless, bloody work, but it had to be done; if the Empire was to be saved and the Griffins to regain their rightful place in the sun, only decisive, brutal action would suffice.
~
The Royal Palace was a veritable fortress. Towering above the city, it was an indomitable sight to behold and was almost impregnable if properly garrisoned and supplied. That was why the element of surprise was absolutely necessary.
The great columns of rebels marched through the street in deathly quiet, with only the tread of their hobnailed boots echoing through the deserted and darkened city.
Ferdinand Dawnclaw marched at the head of the column, his pistol drawn. There was no turning back now, only victory or death.
As they approached the gates of the palace, Dawnclaw motioned to soldiers on either his left or right. They raced ahead, service knives drawn, to silently dispose of the sentries.
The sheer audacity of the attack caught the defenders completely off guard, and before the alarm had even sounded, the rebels had already taken the outer perimeter and were preparing to launch their assault.
Suddenly, the air filled with the deafening report of rifle and machine gun fire; the flash of muzzles illuminating the night like deadly fireflies. Their cover broken, a great cry rose up from the attackers as they surged through the gate, firing indiscriminately at the building.
The few guards unlucky enough to find themselves near the palace entrance soon felt the cold steel of the bayonet’s edge, the great tide of soldiers charging past them.
The fighting inside was ferocious, but the rebel’s momentum was unstoppable. They threw themselves into the action with reckless abandon, either shooting or skewering any victim that happened to get in their way.
Dawnclaw was in the very thick of it, using his automatic pistol to great effect in the narrow confines of the palace’s halls and corridors. Soon the enemy was in a full retreat and it wasn’t long before the Oberstleutnant found himself before the Royal Chambers.
The chances were small that’d he find his Imperial Majesty there. No doubt the Duchess had taken him at the first sign of trouble and fled to safety, but it was still worth checking. Such a prize was not worth losing, in any case.
As the sound of gunfire echoed in the distance, Dawnclaw delicately opened the door. The room was entirely dark and seemingly still. Maybe he had gotten away, he thought, until he heard muffled sobbing from underneath the bed. He turned on the light and holstered his pistol as he knelt beside the bed.
“Grover? Are you down there? Come out, I want to talk to you.” Hesitantly, he saw the beak of a little fowling emerge from underneath the bed, his eyes red and filled with fear. “That’s right, no need to be afraid.”
“W-who are you?” he asked.
He smiled.
“That’s not important right now, little one. My only concern right now is that you are taken care of.”
The little bird sniffled as crawled from under the bed and stood up. Dawnclaw pulled out his own neckerchief and pressed it to his face.
“Blow,” he commanded gently.
The small bird did so and used the dry part of cloth to wipe his eyes.
“There, better?”
Grover nodded.
“What’s going on?” the Emperor asked, his voice cracking. “Where is Auntie Gabby?”
Dawnclaw frowned.
“I’m not sure,” he replied truthfully. “But it’s of no concern at the moment. What’s important is that I found you.”
“Please, I want to go,” the chick pleaded. “Please let me go.”
“Unfortunately I can’t do that, but tell me Grövchen, would you like to hear a story?”
“W-what’s it about?”
“Oh you’ll like it, it’s about royals and knights and Emperors.”
The young chick’s eyes lit up.
“Like me?”
Dawnclaw smiled.
“Yes, just like you. Listen closely though, because it has a surprise ending.”
Suddenly forgetting his fear, Grover listened to the strange griff’s soothing voice as he began to speak, his attention spellbound.
“You see, there once was a great king who did everything he could for his subjects. He built cities and roads and great universities. He even managed to unite his people and forged a great Empire.
“The Emperor had wealth and power and many friends, but they weren’t very good friends, because they didn’t love him Grover, not really. They coveted his power and wealth and would do anything to get their claws on it.”
“Doesn’t sound like very good friends,” he said meekly.
“Smart lad,” he replied, rubbing his head. “That’s because they weren’t his friends.”
“Are you my friend?”
“I’m something better than a friend, Grover, I’m your benefactor. Do you know what that is?”
“…n-no?”
“It means I protect you and the Empire. And what do you suppose happened to those so-called friends?”
“W-what?”
He was trembling as Dawnclaw leaned in close to him.
“They got exactly what they deserved...”
~
They were on the run. As the last remnants of the Diamond Dogs dispersed in terror from the onslaught of their advance, Leutnant Vogelfeder could rightly say that victory was theirs, at least for the time being. They may try a counter-attack. New orders were needed. He ordered the griffs under his command to take up positions in the citadel as he went to find Dawnclaw and break the news of their success.
He raced through the palace until he reached the royal chambers and forced his way inside.
“Oberstleutnant-!”
The same talon silenced him with the same reprimanding gesture as it had before.
“Lower your voice, Leutnant. He’s sleeping.”
Vogelfeder looked to see the small frame of the Emperor resting soundly in his bed.
“Apologies, sir,” Vogelfeder replied flustered. “Are you going to...?”
Dawnclaw gently petted the sleeping Emperor’s head before taking a deep breath, something heavy weighing down his words when he spoke.
“You know Leutnant, I didn’t always want to be a soldier. Yes, it’s true, as hard that may be to admit now. In my younger days I had aspirations of travelling to Aquileia and learning philosophy and rhetoric under the great Coltaire. My father had other ideas. He believed that the only good occupation for a nobleman’s son was to be an officer in the army. I used to be drilled regularly and whenever he thought I was lacking discipline or just whenever he took a notion, he’d beat me mercilessly. Thought it was the only way to purge the weakness that he saw in his son.
“I came to hate my father and when I got the chance, I fled with the help of a friend of mine. I didn’t make it 20 miles and do you know what happened to my friend? He decided to make an example out him...I still hear his screaming some nights, even now.
“My father was a hard and cruel griff. And sometimes when I look in the mirror, I fear I see his reflection staring back at me. I had every intention to kill him. It would have been so easy. But when I looked at him, all I could see was my younger self staring back and begging for mercy. Mercy. Mercy.”
He rocked his head back and forth.
“And Boreas save me...I couldn’t do it.”
Vogelfeder cleared his throat.
“What are your orders, sir?”
Dawnclaw straightened his uniform as he lifted himself from the bed.
“Secure the perimeter. I’ll make my radio address shortly. I want regular reports every hour on the hour, is that understood?”
“Yes sir.”
Vogelfeder saluted and left.
Dawnclaw made to leave as well but glanced over his shoulder at the Emperor perfectly at peace in his dreams.
There was much work still yet to be done: order to be restored, enemies to be purged, and new lands to be conquered. Those would come in time. He would reforge the Empire with blood and iron and once more all griffins would bow before their might.
The fate of this tiny chick was still in doubt. Perhaps he could be trained to be a useful puppet or maybe even a worthy successor. He was certainly bright and who knew what he might achieve if only his potential was realized? Only time would tell.
Ferdinand Dawnclaw turned to the window to see the sun rising in the east. It was the beginning of a new day and as the sound of gunfire drifted in the morning air, his mind was filled with possibilities.
Today Griffonia, tomorrow the world.
