Yes Diellza

by Test4Echo

Rating: teen
Tags: Violence, Slice of Life, Dark, Death, Alternate Universe, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy
Length: 10844

It isn't easy being the head butler of a mad princess, but somebody has to do it.

Dreck von Schlemmenschwimmer is a simple griff. He sees a way to survive, he'll take it. Perhaps others would ask for a boring life, one filled with the drudgery of going out every day, slinging muck at one another, and then returning home to sleep in a cold cot with one's own fresh turnip. However, Dreck is not stuck with a dull life. After all, every day yields new surprises from Katerin's mad princess. Who doesn't love the chance to lose their head once a week?

Set in the world of the Heart's of Iron IV mod, Equestria at war.

Written as an entry in Equestria at War's Fourth Annual Writing Competition.

Thanks once again to EverfreePony for editing.

Published 2021-03-30 16:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2021-03-30 16:50:01 UTC

Sanity for Thee, but Not for Me

Why did I take this job again? Dreck von Schlammschwimmer grumbled to himself, tugging lightly at the creased butler suit that he wore. It was a bit too snug for his liking, but still in acceptable condition. While not great, he couldn’t complain when everygriff else wore rags at best.

Slowly, he trod his way down the halls of the grand palace of the von Katerinburg dynasty. It was a stark contrast to the world outside. Of course, calling it a world would have been a bit too kind. Hellhole would be more appropriate.

For decades, the proud dynasty served griffon emperors loyally. Now, their last gasp was Diellza, the Mad Princess. She hadn’t earned the name because of her wrath. No, she was in fact a gleeful bird many a time. Too many times, in Dreck's opinion.

Rather, it was due to her... peculiar decisions that led to her reputation as a bloodthirsty, ravenous creature, arbitrarily determining what was legal and what was not.

That was the commongriff's opinion, anyway. She was in fact quite peachy. When she wasn't looking for ways to lob one's head off.

She was fond of that word. It made her chuckle. Lob, bob, cob. She could lob someone's head, bob it around, then stick it on a cob. Ponies weren’t very happy about that, but what good were they anyway? They only ever caused problems with their "friendship" and "magic."

"Puh!" he spat, a bit of revulsion rising up in his chest as he imagined a bunch of pastel-colored creatures dancing around a firepit. Admittedly, he hadn't met many ponies. They had mostly been driven from Katerinburg after the so-called Desolation had begun.

When the chaotic weather first appeared, many laygriffs blamed the pony minority for it. They claimed they had cursed the lands of Katerin for refusing to reform into an enlightened parliamentary system.

However, even after the majority of ponies were ousted, the Desolation remained. Weather continued to go off the rails, and crops withered and died despite the best effort of the serfs. It was as if nature itself was reacting to the absurdities of Katerin’s ruler.

Of course, did it really matter? What was the point of combatting the inevitable?

Katerin had been a pigsty. Katerin was a pigsty. Katerin would always be a pigsty.

Though Dreck would be there to ensure he was the least dirty of all the pigsty pigstyers of Katerin-pigsty-burg. It was bad enough that he was the current butler of Diellza, but at least he was fed, clothed, and otherwise living what could be called "a life."

Yes, that was a word for it. A life. Was it a great life? No, not really. It was difficult to subsist on the whims of his mistress. One day, potatoes could be the most holy of foods, blessed by the great Boreas himself. The next, they could be worse than dung. It was all very exciting. If one cared little for their time spent among the living.

The potato comment did actually come from Diellza. One moment, she was singing praises of the starchy potato, how its flavor—which was really just lots of salt and butter—was the most delectable thing in the world. Then she burnt her chest because a piece slipped off her fork while she was exclaiming said joy. She fined the potato farmers for providing potatoes that cooked too hot. For good measure, the chefs were all relieved of their heads.

Whatever the case, he was stuck as the butler now, and he had his duties. Skirting them was just part of his job description, if one were to ask him.

They never did though. Did they ask if he slept well at night? No. Not that he cared. The nightmares faded after the first month or so anyway.

At best, he might get a pat on the back from a guard as they congratulated him on dealing with another day of the Mad Princess. Maybe he'd get a job well done from Diellza if she was paying attention to him. If she ever peeled her eyes off that Boreas-damned skull of hers.

He shuddered, clenching his jaw as he felt his chest grow tight. That cursed unicorn skull from her maniacal cousin Wingfried only helped her spiral into her madness. She named it Glitterhoof. And if the servants ever took it away from her? Off with the nearest griff's head. It only required a couple of bodies to be displayed outside the palace with obvious horn holes in their chests for servants to stop attempting to make Glitterhoof disappear.

Dreck tapped his beak with a talon, humming softly to himself as he glanced out one of the bay windows to his left. Let's see, he began, drooping his eyelids and watching the commotion of the city below. Screaming and death? Check. Fires raging through Katerinburg? Not really, but there's a bit of smoke near the horizon, so let's go with check. Giant tornado ripping through the buildings while said fire is raging? Also not check, but it's not quite that time yet.

For a few seconds, he paused his ponderings and peered upon the populace below. The once grand city of Katerinburg, the jewel of the Principality, lay strewn about as a hobbled mass of thatched roofs and humble hovels.

Not many griffons strolled the streets, as they were still out in the fields, toiling to reap a meagre harvest for the gullet of Diellza and the fat nobles of the former regency council, the Katerintreue. Despite already accomplishing their outward goal of guidance until she became of age, they still had much sway over her, for both good and ill. Suggestions became demands, and Diellza could barely stand up to them.

In the distance, the sole temple of the city, dedicated to Boreas, rose high into the sky. Its steeples and tower glinted in the specks of sunlight. What little light there was barely pierced the cloud cover, creating streams of golden rays, indicating that yes, there was still a sky above the sickly haze of Katerin.

Twitching his head slightly, he looked out the window as a few faint screeches reached his ears. Clouds of dust billowed up from outside the courtyard. In the middle of it, two male griffons were tussling with an elderly female. Soon, they had her on the ground and were punching the poor granny in the gut. They sneered and cackled.

She struggled and reached out a claw to any passersby. She screeched, hailing for help from the guards. And, like usual, the guards didn't bother.

In fact, one passed right next to her. He gave a slight salute to the two young griffs and was on his way.

Ah yes, the bandits are right on cue. Those rapscallions are always out searching for their next bit of prey, Dreck mused to himself, a mix of annoyance and resignation flooding his mind.

What was the point of trying to fight it? The bandits had their fun, they stayed out of Diellza's crest feathers, and if it was one less old hag to feed, the better.

Well, if those two scamps are out and about, that means that—Ah! There it is right now! A large explosion rocked the palace, causing a few motes of dust to patter onto his grey head. Licking his talons, he brushed his down feathers and slowly wiped the gunk onto the front of his wing. It wasn't like it was going to be noticed, anyway, as it blended right into the brown splotches splattered all over.

Of course, he had to be born to the von Schlammschwimmer family and he had to be called Dreck. That was bad enough already. Then Eyr, the goddess of fertility, decided to pull a prank and splatter brown over his body in random spots. It was like he permanently bathed in mud.

"Won't somebody think of the chicks!" a griffon cried from outside. Her voice was muffled, but he spotted a petite hen despairing at the now bloodied body of the elderly griffon.

A few chicks were poking at the old griff, determining if she was ripe for the picking.

"The chicks are thinking well enough for themselves, you wench," Dreck muttered, shaking his head. "They see the bandits and off they go! Model citizens of the Principality!" He stuck his tongue out and gagged before turning back down the hall.

Some sconces lit the darker sections of the passageway, their orange flames bouncing off the marble pillars and gilded floor. His talons clacked softly, and he mumbled to himself, "Where the Maar are all the servants?"

Suddenly, realization hit him. Smacking his face with a claw, he groaned, "Of course, the Speckled Spectacle!" He grunted. Furrowing his brow, he grumbled a few choice words under his breath.

Diellza's latest decree was simple: if you had a single spot on your feathers, you were descended from Maar. Don't ask her why, she didn't know. Glitterhoof apparently did, but he refused to tell her and, of course, a skull couldn't talk to anygriff with half a brain.

It was rather impressive at how quickly the army rounded up the population. Probably it was just in Katerinburg, but still, bravo to them. They proved that they weren't entirely useless, just useless at the right times.

The mines were booming with the new forced labor from the supposedly obvious Maar's chicks. By booming, he meant that they were suffering explosions every few minutes. Not many miners lived in the country, and most griffons couldn't tell the fuse of a stick of dynamite from a worm.

On top of that, Glitterhoof had apparently been appointed the next prophet of Boreas. It was in the same message as the one about speckled griffs.

Halting, he held up a single claw and waggled it back and forth to correct himself. Glitterhoof wasn't the prophet of Boreas. No, he was the prophet of the prophet of Boreas. Dreck rolled his eyes.

Regardless of what circle of Boreas Glitterhoof was or wasn't a part of, it didn't change the obvious. The palace was empty. Many of the servants were on that list, and they were given no mercy.

Slumping his shoulders, he groused when he heard a few screeches come from the hall. He squawked and stumbled forward as a servant plowed into him. With a grunt, he slammed into a pillar and slid to the floor. Craning his neck, he watched a couple of female griffons zip by. A few stray feathers floated down onto his beak.

Whatever you ladies are up to, it's no use. He sighed, glancing to the floor. We're all doomed at one point or another.

For another minute, he wandered down the hall, the sounds of the maids swiftly dissipating. A lonely banner, decked in the oranges and whites of Katerin, hung limply from the ceiling. It was a tad tattered, fraying at the edges.

Just like good ol' Princess Diellza, he muttered to himself. I wonder how cousin Muck is doing in Nova Griffonia? Snorting, he grumped, Probably has an entire city that he's running just fine. Muck was always the lucky one. Throw him in some mud, and the mud would find a way to get off him.

That griff always wanted to explore. He flicked his tail, the brown tuft on the end colliding with a priceless vase. It toppled to the floor, and he lunged back. He dove to the ground, narrowly catching it in his claws.

He got to his knees and placed the vase back on its stand. Giving it a soft pat, he scratched the back of his neck and wiped a few beads of sweat away. He would not be sent to the gallows just for a mistake like that.

Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself and went back to musing about Muck. He hadn't spoken to him in years, as the last letter he received was shortly before the whole lost colony debacle. It wasn't very legible, but it indicated Muck was going to be trekking out into the frontier region.

In the letter, Muck also stated that there were some interesting local delicacies. One of them claimed to be similar to pork. Muck was hoping to get the secret and bring it back to Katerin at some point.

Licking his lips, Dreck pondered, Along with the city, he's probably got an entire region just dedicated to churning out those foods! I can scarcely imagine it!

With a soft chuckle, he suppressed a grin and a small rumble from his stomach before catching some movement outside the window. Ah, he hissed internally, it's that time of week again.

Outside, whirling about and otherwise being a general bother, was a giant tornado. The first time Dreck saw one from the palace, he had nearly laid an egg. Tiny tingles of terror shot through his spine as he watched the twister spin lazily toward Katerinburg.

They never approached the palace. Why, he couldn't say. The worst they got was some shattered windows every now and then. That wasn't great either, especially after one of the maids was skewered by the shrapnel. Diellza found it funny, though.

An image of the scene flashed through his mind. I didn’t know there could be so much blood. And that Diellza would… bathe in it. He shuddered.

Howling winds blustered and battered at the window, rattling the glass. Bits of debris, no larger than little pebbles, bounced off the clear surface, and he continued to observe as the tornado trudged its way toward the center of Katerinburg.

I wonder how much gold this will cost us this time? he mused, absentmindedly switching his gaze to a few griffs that were running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

In the middle of the street, one even tried burying their head in the ground. It was a miracle nogriff collided with them.

There was a crash, and another griffon screamed as the tornado took a sharp turn and sliced toward one of the newer burrows. "My cucumbers!" she screeched, pointing her talons toward the house. A hapless codger, probably her father, hobbled outside. He was oblivious to the impending danger.

A miffed expression on his face, he watched as the tornado's fringes licked at the thatched roof before it peeled it off. Large swirls of dirt were slurped up by the hungry winds, and, very faintly, a few bits of green indicated the location of the aforementioned vegetables. The old griff was whipped up in the wind, waving at some of the others as he whirled around.

"There’s a whole year’s worth of filth in my house! How am I supposed to wallow in my filth if it's all over Katerinburg?!" another griffon bemoaned as Dreck cracked open the window to get a better peek at the commotion.

Wind slapped him in the face, and he screeched as he dug his paws into the floor. Some of the carpet peeled up as he was pushed back, but soon enough he managed to steady himself.

As the second griffon had decried, the next house in the line was torn to shreds, spewing mud, dirt, gravel, and other bits of brown into the air. Chunks of it rained closer and closer to Dreck’s perch, and he squeaked as he quickly slammed the window.

Patters of gunk pelted the glass, and one managed to punch a small hole through. The piece of mud—at least he hoped it was mud—rolled along the floor, eventually sliding to a halt toward the other end of the hallway.

For half a second, it lay on the floor. With a squelch, it burst and splattered across the hall. Streaks of tan and brown soiled the decades’ old tapestries. A large splatter smacked onto a painting of Diellza’s great-grandfather, Wilhelm. The result was an improvement, he had to admit. Almost made his gimpy wing appear normal.

Ruffling his feathers, he flicked a small bit of the stuff off his suit. His sense of smell was already deadening to the stench. However, when he brought his claw up to quickly scratch under his crest feathers, he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him.

Sulfuric was too kind a word for the odor that assaulted his nostrils. The best he could think of was when Diellza was offered a local curry from a kirin delegate. It had left a lot of cleaning to do on the other royal throne. Of course, the job fell on him.

Heaving a couple of times, he managed to regain his composure, and then took in the damage. If he bolted now, he wouldn't have to worry about clean-up duty.

"As a wise griff once said," he whimpered to himself as some of the muck started to slide off the painting, "'exit stage right.'"

As he started to strut forward, head held high and plumage puffed, he froze as a familiar, nasally voice reached his ears. "Oh Dreeeecky!" it singsonged. He broke out into a sweat.

Oh joy, he groused, breathing deeply and coughing at the toxic smell. He swore he could taste it now. Is she awake already? She must have gotten up early. Tapping a claw against the floor, he grumbled to himself, "What does she want now?"

"Drecky!" the voice called again, instantly switching to a harsh shriek. There were a few tinkles as some of the glass started to shatter.

Pulling his wings tight, he gulped and turned around in the direction of the caller. "Coming, ma'am!"

***

"Drecky von Dreckyburg!" The cheerful nature of the summons rang through Dreck's skull. For the last fifteen minutes, he had been checking for Diellza in many of her favorite hiding spots, as she called them. They were more random rooms in the palace, but he wouldn't let that spoil her fun.

She's not in the kitchen, pretending she's tomorrow's dinner. She isn't in the armory, doing whatever she does with those axes, and she's not in her bedroom. Coming to a halt, Dreck scrunched his eyebrows and focused. Diellza had to be nearby, she had been taunting him for the entire time.

For a moment, he stopped to take in his surroundings. Although where he was before Diellza had summoned him was already ornate, this was another level. Instead of marble, jet black onyx and obsidian lined the walls from top to bottom. Jewels of all kinds inlaid near the ceiling sparkled in the torchlight.

Greens of emeralds, reds of rubies, clear prisms of diamonds, and all manner of other assorted colors radiated through the hallway. He could hear the faint crackling of the sconces as they burned away.

Wincing, he glanced around the hall. Usually at least a few guards were present. Their absence made it feel like he was walking to his doom.

Diellza barely cared about the guards, but many of the Katerintreue wanted protection. Mainly from Diellza.

Grimacing, he remembered the image of the last noble who dared annoy her. Diellza claimed it was all Glitterhoof's actions, and, to be fair, it was the pony skull that was mostly smeared in blood, but she was the one holding the skull to begin with.

There hadn't been enough left of that griffon to fill a cup, let alone a full casket.

With a shudder, he purged the memory and glanced around again for any hint of where Diellza could have hidden. Currently, he was standing in the middle of the main hallway to the throne room. It was too obvious a place for her to hide, as she was clearly in one of her many moods.

A few giggles echoed through the passageway, causing him to squawk softly and flap his wings. They were behind him now, and he swore it sounded like his mistress was ready to stab him through with Glitterhoof's horn.

Twirling on his talons, he sighed in relief when he saw that there was no Diellza. Only the empty hallway leading back to the side corridors greeted him.

Banners and bunting hung from the rafters. A couple drifted far too close to the torches for his comfort. In his mind, he could envision one sparking and catching fire as it drifted near a flame. It would take mere seconds for the entire room to be engulfed in an inferno. Probably the peasants would cheer, but he’d rather his goose not be cooked.

"Drecky!" Diellza's voice declared, a few more snickers creeping in. "Come on, Drecky! You're such a... drip!" She chortled, the manic laughter bouncing through the hallways and digging directly into Dreck's brain.

Huffing, he muttered indignantly, "Brilliant pun, ma'am, I'm sure this isn't a thinly veiled clue for me to find you." Rolling his eyes and brushing down his crest feathers, he added, "I swear, if I had a piece of gold for every brain cell you had, I’d owe more than all the bankers’ vaults of Flowena held. Combined!"

She was in the bathroom. That was the only place he hadn't bothered to look, because of course she would go to the one place she was too scared to visit by herself. Ever since that incident with the daddy longlegs, she had been insistent that five guards check to make sure she wouldn't be assassinated by creepy bloodsuckers.

Scoffing, he slowly picked up the pace and started toward the mahogany door of the bathroom. "Where, oh where, could the little princess be?" he inquired, his voice growing slightly coy.

A few more giggles made their way out of the bathroom, and he smirked as he envisioned her mirth. Some hushed whispers also crept out from under the door, and he managed to make out one bit of it.

"Quiet, Glitterhoof, he'll hear you!" she hissed, making a light shushing sound.

"Hark! Is that the noise of the little angel that has been calling me?" Dreck snarked, craning his neck and placing a wingtip to the side of his head.

"No!" came the quick response, only making him grin further.

Slowly, he slunk toward the reddish door. There were a few chips of wood off the finish, revealing paler scratches underneath. As he approached, he could hear the patter of paws and clack of claws as Diellza scampered about inside the room.

"No?!" he asked incredulously. He cawed softly and flapped his wings once before pressing himself against the door. There was a faint clatter and shuffle, and he picked out a squeak from Diellza.

After spending a few seconds pattering his paws in place, he stated, "Then I suppose I shall have to search elsewhere for the elusive Diellza!" A soft chitter escaped the bathroom. "Oh, the toils I have to take to find her! Woe is me!" He slammed his paws and one claw on the obsidian floor a couple more times before he stopped.

Besides the crackling torches, the hallway was silent. His heart pounded in his head as he quietly counted to five. He slammed open the door and exclaimed, "Ah-ha! I have found the rascally griffon who's plagued me so!"

Screeching, Diellza von Katerinburg tucked herself tightly into the marble tub in the far end of the room.

Faint light streamed into the room from the pair of windows on the back wall. In the glass, he could barely make out the fringes of the tornado. The coot from earlier was still whirling around.

Some more screams and curses from the populace reached his ears, but they were barely important. What mattered was that Diellza believed she was clever.

Aside from being clearly visible from where he stood, she curled into a fetal position, facing away from the door. Her black fur glistened with sweat. Although unseen, he could tell that she was stroking Glitterhoof with a claw. She moved her one foreleg back and forth, and the sound of claws on bone was distinctly audible.

Besides the tub, there was also a large mirror roughly in the middle of the wall on his left. In it, Diellza was also visible, and he managed to catch her crazed eyes darting around. Her green irises were miniscule, and she had a slightly manic grin on her beak.

Some of her orange plumage was mussed, and she had made no effort to clean it. Also, she was naked, not that he really cared. One time she had herself shaved completely, and that was a sight he could not soon forget. Fur and feathers were the least of his concern.

In the mirror, the milky white of Glitterhoof's skullcap was discernible. The horn protruded far from Diellza's chest. A golden ring shimmered on it. She had recently proposed to Glitterhoof. He accepted, after deliberation.

When he saw Glitterhoof, Dreck suppressed a small growl. A bit of anger rose in his chest, and he felt his cheeks grow hot. That cursed gift from Wingfried had been nothing but trouble. Even if Diellza was mad before, she at least was less dangerous when she didn't have a makeshift sword with her at all times.

Taking a deep breath, he strode into the room, his claws clacking on the marble floor tiles. Tingles of cold shot up his legs, and he daintily hopped back and forth until they adjusted to the cooler temperature.

Along with the mirror and tub, there was a large armoire set up near the right window. Diellza's robes hung limply on the knobs of its door. Her diamond tiara glittered as it caught a few muted rays of sun.

A sink on the right rounded out the bathroom. Stagnant, murky water rippled in its basin, and a small bucket was underneath.

Another round of snickers came from the tub, and he saw her sides jiggle with excitement. "There's nobody here but us spiders!" Diellza tittered, making her voice rise to a hiss at the end. "Quiet, Glitter, he'll hear us!"

There were a few knocks as she twisted it in her grasp and held its gaze. An uneasy silence fell over the room as Diellza shook her head and clicked her tongue before setting the skull back to its normal position by her chest.

Huffing, Dreck slumped his shoulders and merely waited. He best let her think he had missed her, then surprise her. This was a game, after all. Not that he wanted to play it.

"My, my, only spiders?" Dreck asked, arching a brow and tittering to himself. He took a few steps closer to the bathtub, purposefully craning his neck around in an exaggerated manner. "I suppose I will have to simply wash them down the drain."

After a couple of seconds of silence, he clacked his way toward the tub, humming to himself. Diellza still snickered away, cradling Glitterhoof in her arms. A single cackle escaped her beak, which she quickly tried to hide with a talon stuffed into her face.

He stood directly over her. Still, she kept her back to him and breathed a few harsh breaths before gasping. Holding Glitterhoof high, she demanded, "What did you say about Drecky?" Her voice was filled with disgust, and she held the skull close to her head.

She arched brow, her beak twisted into a scowl as she fidgeted in the basin. Glitterhoof’s muzzle was pressed deep into her fur. It jittered a bit as she forced it near. She squawked in surprise.

"No!" Diellza rustled her black wings, highlighting some of the orange speckles along her back. "He's not that dumb!"

Dreck sighed and furrowed his brow. What are “they” talking about now? Leaning over, he hooked the bucket with the end of his tail. With a quick dunk, he grabbed some of the sludge in the sink and prepared to splash her.

Chittering to herself, Diellza pulled Glitterhoof back and glared at him. “What?! Mistaking a boulder for a dragon egg?!” Shaking her head, she patted the top of the skull and sighed. A few soft giggles escaped her lips, and she said, “That is pretty funny!” In her mirth, she scratched some of the lining of the tub. Her claws scritched and scraped, almost like the many rats in the castle.

Ah, of course. Good to know your memory is as sharp as ever, Dreck grumbled to himself. If he recalled right, for it was before his time, Diellza was the one who tried smashing a boulder because it looked like a dragon egg. She claimed it was to protect the realm, as she had ten of her soldiers heave it off the side of the palace. It ended up splattering an unfortunate priest of Boreas across half the courtyard.

They still found bits of bone and teeth to this day scattered around.

"Well, if it's only spiders, then I suppose this dirty, disgusting, nasty sink water will have to do," he said, heaving the bucket in his arms. Some of the toxic goop sloshed over the side, splashing him in the face. Sputtering, he spat it out and gagged. It tasted like death.

Instantly, Diellza froze and twisted around in the tub. Flashing her orange chest feathers, she held up a talon and screeched, "It's me, Drecky!" Her eyes were still pinpricks, their emerald hue barely visible. Capillaries pulsed in the whites, and she had a faint, cheeky grin on her beak.

For a second, Dreck froze, staring into the pits of unadulterated glee that possessed her. If it were any other griff, it'd be contagious, but for him, it was just sad.

She could have been such a promising leader, but the cursed republicans and the Katerintreue ensured that never happened.

He watched her briefly, eyes locked with hers. Deep in his chest, he felt his heart tug toward her, if only slightly. The mirth contained in her was almost innocent. Almost, as that same joy had led her to hang a dozen griffs because she found the twitching "funny."

Grey fluid dribbled down the edge of the bucket. Hissing, he jumped back as the sludge burned his claws. It bubbled and smoked on his talons. He fought the urge to suck his thumb.

Hastily, he wiped the gunk onto his suit and winced as there was a loud fwoosh and a small burst of flame. It quickly died as whatever noxious substance that was in the water burned itself out. However, he now had a nice hole in his jacket, and some of his fur had singed off.

Diellza held a talon to her beak, suppressing a giggle. Cradling Glitterhoof in her arms, she rocked back and forth in the basin before springing up.

Dreck blinked. She was probably expecting a reaction to her naked form. Honestly, it wasn’t shocking, given she still had her fur and feathers, but duty called.

Laying a forearm on his head, he cried, "Oh! Boreas above! The princess is without clothes!" Hiding an eye, he cracked it open to see Diellza stifle another chuckle before she stepped out of the tub.

She was a full half-head shorter than he was, but that didn't stop her from commanding the room. Her jet black fur and wing feathers created a stark contrast to the harsh orange on her belly, chest, outer face and crest. Her onyx-colored beak glimmered in the muffled sunlight.

Sneering and baring her teeth, she raised a talon and petted the top of Glitterhoof's skullcap. The empty sockets stared emptily at Dreck, taunting him to say something that would set her off.

"Don't be such a prude, Drecky!" Diellza declared, taking her talon and patting him lightly on the shoulder. He stumbled to the side a couple of paces at the heavy impact. "Do you know what I wanted you for?"

Inner-grammar knight resisting the obvious correction, Dreck straightened his stance and brushed down his suit. "I haven't the faintest idea, ma'am," he replied. Partly because I'd need a lobotomy to understand.

She sniggered, a bit of air escaping her nostrils. Her cheeks grew a slight shade of pink, and she wheezed a couple more laughs. "Glitterhoof and I solved a problem!"

Within seconds, her expression changed from pure excitement and joy to harsh fury. Flames virtually bursting from her eyes, she growled, "So take a message! We—" she pointed at Glitterhoof "—have a decree!" With that, she plopped her haunches on the floor and raised her beak regally.

She pointed it directly to the ceiling.

Truly regal. "Oh joy," he muttered to himself, jamming a claw into his breast pocket and pulling out a small sheet of parchment. It always paid to have one in case Diellza "solved a problem."

Suddenly, he felt his heart sink. Stomach roiling, he pressed his talons along both sides of his suit, and he moaned faintly when he failed to turn up a quill or ink. Maar damn it all! he groused, a couple beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Lightly, he laughed and stated, "Uh, forgive me, ma'am, but I appear to have misplaced my pen and ink." He tittered to himself when Diellza snapped her head down to glare at him. "If you would just excuse me for a moment, I'll find one." In perhaps a thousand years.

Perking up, Diellza crinkled her eyes and grinned happily. In a singsong tone, she said, "Don't be silly, Drecky! Just use one of your own!"

"What?" He didn't like the sound of that.

Yelping, he whirled his head around when Diellza dove for a wing feather and yanked it. A sharp prick of pain radiated up his wing, and he screeched when a biting slice dug into his flesh.

Diellza pulled back, a bit of blood dripping from a talon, and produced a large, black, feather. A trickle of red was making its way down its shaft, and she chittered, "Here you go!" Her eyes squeezed shut, she beamed and handed the new quill to him.

"Fabulous," he grumbled, lowering his head and taking it.

Clearing her throat, Diellza stood up and started pacing around the room. With a furrowed brow, she raised a talon. "By order of Princess Diellza von Katerinburg—that's me—I hereby decree that all griffons in Katerin should bathe in sudsy, comfy, bubble baths!" She chirped at the end, bouncing on the balls of her paws and claws.

"Excuse me?" he demanded, scribbling the last bits onto the paper. The blood smeared onto the page, leaving large lines of crimson.

"Katerin is really getting too uncomfortable," Diellza stated, twirling on her paws to stare at Dreck. Her expression indicated that this should have been obvious.

Sticking out her tongue, she gagged and snapped, "All those icky peasants and their filth!"

"They do like their filth, though, ma'am." Flashing her a weak smile, he added, "Supposedly it's one of our top exports!"

Twitching an eye, she pursed her lips and snorted once. Shaking her head, she muttered, "Drecky, all that filth is making the air so muggy." She ruffled her plumage before holding down a few stray feathers near her temples. "And all that soot! Imagine if they just cleaned themselves!"

Truly, that is perfectly viable, you dimwit, he griped. His forehead threatened to furrow. He sighed and relaxed his face. The last thing he needed was Diellza thinking he disagreed with her.

"It's not hard being clean!" Diellza raved, jerking her head a couple of times as she rubbed the top of Glitterhoof's head. "I mean, look at me!" She twirled around once, spraying some flecks of blood onto his beak. As she finished, she grinned at him, fluttering her eyes and cooing. A single, deep red streak trailed down her beak and onto her neck. Either she had cut herself, or she decided to rub his own blood on her face. She gazed back down at Glitterhoof and gasped as she brought him to her ear.

Shuddering, Dreck held back a retch and merely gave her a small smile. "You're the epitome of it, ma'am." With a slight bow, he asked, "If that will be all?"

Now distracted, Diellza hummed and waved him off. "Yes, yes, Drecky. That's it."

"Very good, ma'am." With that, he trotted out of the room. Diellza's chortles carried with him as he trotted down the hall.

***

"Herr Schlammschwimmer!"

Wincing, Dreck whirled around in the hall, furrowing his brow when he spied a frail griffon running toward him, claws echoing through the corridor. As the sound bounced, it slowly grew into a high-pitched squeal.

Oh joy, he mumbled to himself. This messenger was clearly panicked. Fear resonated in his eyes as he slowly trudged to a halt a few inches in front of Dreck. He stunk of sweat, and there were large splotches of brown and tan over his otherwise pristine white coat.

"Yes?" he asked, tapping a talon on the floor and huffing. He was expected in the throne room shortly to serve Diellza her dinner. If she wasn't waited to in a timely manner, heads could quite literally roll.

Panting, the messenger wheezed a few sentences, which only came out in weak squeaks. He held up his talon. With each gasp, he collapsed closer and closer to the floor, eventually smacking into it and grunting.

Wiping his brow, he rattled out, "Herr Schlammschwimmer! The peasants won't obey the princess's decree!"

"Oh," Dreck stated, his heart jumping into his throat. It decided to sit there, taking up real estate and starting a family. Besides the giant lump in his throat, the frenetic beating in his chest, and the frantic pounding in his ears, he was doing just fine.

He was not fine.

Diellza will not be happy! He whimpered, cringing back and wrapping his tail around his legs. It wasn't like this was unexpected. The citizens could barely afford food, let alone soap. Bubble bath mix was entirely out of the question, unless Diellza decided to open up the royal coffers.

For a brief moment, he stopped and licked his lips. The mere thought of all that gold made him forget the impending doom that would be Diellza, but things quickly were brought back to reality when the messenger squeaked.

"Drecky!" Diellza shrieked, her voice carrying through the many cavernous halls of the palace. As Dreck was about ten yards away from the throne room, it practically boomed into his ears. He winced. Why she insisted on eating there was beyond him.

"Great, just great," Dreck grumbled, lowering his head and leveling the messenger with a furious scowl. It was as if a dark cloud was hanging over his forehead. "No matter, time to think of a lie and think it up quick!" He needed to be slick.

Bursting into the throne room, he barked as he tripped on a slight wrinkle in the carpeting edge. He smacked headfirst into the solid rock of the throne room. Stars began to twinkle in and out of existence in front of his eyes, and he muttered, his beak still planted in the ground, "You called, ma'am?"

Groaning, he raised his head and rubbed it. Diellza was resting on the throne, her form quivering, and her breathing coming in ragged heaves. As soon as she saw Dreck, she grinned and declared, "Drecky! You're so funny sometimes!"

"Glad I could be of service, ma'am," he grumbled and pushed himself off the floor. Shaking himself, he spotted the faint moonlight pour through the giant stained-glass windows. It created beams of multi-colored hues, which danced on the floor and bounced off the marble. A central line of obsidian created a path to the throne.

Diellza was once again dressed in her robes. A large, garish crown of emeralds and gold sat on her head, and a massive diamond necklace hugged her collar. The fur-trimmed cloak brushed against the bottom of her neck, and Glitterhoof jostled lightly against her sternum.

The pony skull gazed into his soul. Despite it being dead, he swore that it was laughing at him.

Behind Dreck, a pair of servants shuffled in, bringing heaping plates of food. Salads—which she never touched—breads, meats, meads, and desserts of all kinds were flung across the two tables that they wheeled in. Another servant rushed inside with a single, heavy chair, which was encrusted with jewels, and set it in the middle of the room with a bang.

Likewise, the food-carrying servants released their charges and bowed as they exited.

Chuckling, Dreck gave Diellza a weak shrug as he said, "Dinner with a show, ma'am." Please put her in a better mood. I really would prefer if I kept my head. He gulped and watched as she sat down to eat. Think of something, Dreck. What would Muck do?!

He'd probably grab himself by the bootstraps, stare the enemy in the eye, and tell it its mother stunk of fish! Yeah! He pumped the air for a second, catching Diellza's attention.

A piece of chicken meat falling from her beak, she slurped up her food and asked, "So, Drecky, how do the citizens like the new law?" She speared a section of food with a knife and held it in front of Glitterhoof.

The urge to roll his eyes growing, he flinched and grunted, "Ah, that."

"Yes, that."

"Well..." Dreck chattered his beak. Diellza glowered at him, her deep green eyes shrinking and hurling daggers toward his own ice-blue ones.

"You see..." He paused again, racking his brain for any possible excuse. Think, Dreck! You can't let Muck claim he was the best of the family!

Sweating profusely, he tugged at the neck of his suit as Diellza let her knife fall to the table. It clattered loudly, but the chunk of chicken still held onto the blade. He winced at the noise.

Pressing back on the table, she snarled, "What. Do. The. Griffs. Think. Drecky?!" Slowly, like an Abyssinian on the hunt for their next treasure, she slithered closer. As she did, her beak spread wide, revealing her sharp teeth.

"Didn't they love it?" she demanded, pressing herself only a few inches away from Dreck. Nabbing him by the collar, she pulled him down and snapped, "Aren't they happy?"

"No, ma'am!" he squealed, squeezing his eyes shut and whimpering as she screeched.

"'No?!'" she bellowed, hurling him to the floor and unleashing a howling roar. Some of the stained-glass tinkled, and a few spiderwebbing cracks formed. One appeared right in the middle of the beak of her ancestor, Otto, the first prince of Katerin. It was a vast improvement.

Raising her claw, she was about to slash Dreck across the face when she froze. Instantly, all sound in the room disappeared, and she twitched her head. Glancing behind her, she stared at Glitterhoof. After a couple of soft whines, she relaxed and helped him up.

She smiled and stated, "Glitterhoof says that it isn't your fault. The griffons can't help it if they can't read blood!" She giggled softly and nuzzled her head against his chest before trotting back to the table.

He heaved a sigh, glancing at the skull and blinking. The piece of meat was gone. Gulping, he looked back at Diellza and bowed. "Thank you, ma'am," he said, wiping at a bit of sweat.

Waving a talon dismissively, she blew a raspberry and stated, "Don't thank me, thank Glitterhoof. He's such a sweetheart some days." She stared happily at the skull and cooed a bit to herself as she snickered.

Whirling back to stare at Dreck, she furrowed her brow and declared, "Besides, I have another idea! This one will be really... smart!" She cackled, a wildfire burning in her eyes. He gulped.

"Lovely."

***

Grunting, Dreck dropped a mountainous stack of papers in front of Diellza with a solid smack. A few papers ruffled at the top, and he wiped his brow.

What few scribes that still lived in the Katerin Principality had been working feverishly for days, for if they didn’t their talons, one-by-one, would be made into hands for new clocks. Diellza claimed that they could then, one way or another, work around the clock.

With that generous incentive, they poured over statistics, carefully noting the rate at which Diellza’s plan was coming into effect.

Surprisingly, it didn’t entirely suck. Yes, griffons were moaning at the eyestrain, but they could at least make out basic sentences. The number of complaints coming into the palace regarding the stench of the city had shot through the roof.

Diellza jolted at the noise, startled out of her mild stupor. She had been snoring before Dreck had gifted her with the pile of papers. She yawned once. Stretching her forearms, she cracked her back. She licked her front talon before brushing down her crest feathers.

A soft trill escaping her beak, she arched a brow and tilted her head. Sunlight, for once unobstructed by cloud cover, streamed through the stained glass, bouncing off in multispectral shimmers. She scratched her chin and petted Glitterhoof.

"What's that, Drecky?" she asked, flashing him a confused frown.

"That, ma'am, is the fruits of your 'labor.'" Dreck flicked his tail back and forth, groaning softly. Furrowing his brow, he sighed and poked his head around the pile of paperwork. A few pieces fluttered down, and the whole thing began to sway back and forth.

Before he could react, it tumbled backward, cascading in all directions. Yelping, he fell back as it pummeled him to the floor. His entire world was yellow and cream. He attempted to swim through the ocean of paper and eventually rolled onto his claws.

Ignoring his statement, Diellza instead snickered and stabbed a talon through the nearest sheet. Scanning it, she muttered a few things to herself before she snarled.

Tail thrashing side to side, she snatched another piece of paper, then another. As she read each one, her glower grew more furious. After the fifteenth report, she threw it to the ground and stomped toward him.

He swore the floor shook, and the pair of busts on either side of the throne swayed softly. They were of her parents, and both appeared to be scowling in his direction.

Spearing another paper on Glitterhoof's horn, she thrust the skull into Dreck's face and screeched, "What's the meaning of this?!" She heaved, her breath coming in ragged gasps. He could faintly hear a couple of sobs escape.

The great plan, the attempt to dredge the griffons of Katerin out of their illiteracy, could be at best described as a mild success. At first, citizens were so frightened that they could barely make out what they were going to read in the libraries. Under the careful, “loving” watch of Diellza, they had made some progress.

At best, the adults learned how to write a basic letter, along with comprehending simple written instructions. The younger ones could make out their own names and perhaps a few dozen common phrases. He heard a few had also learned some interesting bits of vocabulary. Hopefully their parents didn't find out. Otherwise they would have another soap crisis on their claws.

Diellza pulled Glitterhoof back, instead snatching the paper and thrusting it onto Dreck's beak. Her face was contorted in rage, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Her brow was creased, forming deep lines etched with deep shadows that made them look like canyon walls. After a few heaves, she shrieked. In a flash, her claws sliced through the top layer of parchment, rending it into thin slivers.

"No, no, no!" she screamed, stamping her claws on the ground. "They were supposed to get smarter faster! How can they get smarter if they don’t read more?!" She groaned and flopped back, holding her head in her claws.

Gulping, Dreck gently removed the paper from his face. After briefly checking the report, he sighed and looked at her. She was crying, a few weeps jostling her whole body around. Some sniffles made their way to his ears, and he frowned.

Perhaps... he mused, glancing to the floor for a second before looking back up. Carefully, he cleared his throat, getting Diellza to look at him. His heart ached. This was why he still served her, aside from being executed if he left. She needed comfort, suggestions, actual guidance. Not self-fueled ambition from the Katerintreue. She needed a shoulder to cry on.

Dribbles of snot were running down her beak, and tears streaked her fur, matting it and giving her a wild appearance. She whimpered before going back to her sobs.

Smiling, he placed a talon on her shoulder and suggested, "Perhaps you should implement actual schools, ma'am? Give the commongriff a chance to improve themselves at their own pace?"

Her head shot up, and she tilted it. "That's silly, Drecky. I never learned anything from those stuffy tutors!" She snorted. "Obviously they won't either."

Grabbing Glitterhoof, she nuzzled its nose and cooed, "Besides, where'd the money for Glitterhoof's new jeweled horn come from?" She stared longingly into the skull's empty sockets, a slight hint of lust in her eyes.

Dreck cringed. That was not an image he needed to see.

"O-of course, ma'am, my mistake," he stammered, grimacing as he stood up.

The clanging of the bells of Boreas signaled the arrival of lunch. Soon, the chefs would have prepared Diellza's meal, and he would make sure it arrived.

Holding up a claw, he stated, "I shall get maids in here at once to clean up this mess." He kicked at a stray bit of paper that stuck to his paw. Diellza didn't look up, still transfixed on her "fiancé's" visage.

He clicked his tongue. After a couple of seconds, she smiled at him, humming softly in anticipation. "Also," he began, his voice getting an extra edge of fake excitement, "lunch will be here soon! It's bratwurst today!"

Gasping, Diellza squished her cheeks and squawked in delight, twirling in the air as she went back to the throne.

Snickering to himself, he turned around and strutted toward the door. Under his breath, he grumbled, "Of course, if some of that was shared with the commoners, they might stop being so filthy. They are what they eat, after all."

As the doors creaked open, he heard her cry in surprise. "Oh, Drecky!" she called, making his blood freeze at the unhinged melodic nature of it.

"Yes, ma'am?" he inquired, slowly turning on his heels and looking at her. A few beads of sweat formed on the back of his neck. The tone was not good. She had another idea.

Diellza was whispering to Glitterhoof. She jerked a claw toward the outside and cawed when she nodded Glitterhoof. Twisting in her seat, she stated, "We've solved the problem!" She chuckled lightly. "Two problems, actually."

Oh joy. "What is it, ma'am?"

"Oh, it just requires a bit of taste." She cackled at her horrible pun. However, he had a feeling it was leading to something.

"Good joke, ma'am, but what is the solution?" He clapped his talons a couple of times, and gave her a miffed look.

"Well, if griffs are what they eat, and if books make you smarter, then if they eat books, they'll get smarter!" She chortled at her logic. Flapping her wings, she crowed, "And, because they're eating, they'll stop being hungry!"

A pregnant pause settled on the room. Dreck felt his brain hurt. Grimacing, he deadpanned, "Surely, you're a genius, ma'am." She has got to be joking.

"I know! I read lots of books when I was a kid, so I'm very smart!" She chuckled and descended the dais.

Oh, she's being serious. Waving his talons, he protested, "But ma'am, we'll run out of books, then what—"

Snarling, she snapped back, "Then we'll just make more books out of their roofs, their trees, their walls, and their tools." She growled, baring her teeth. The sunlight outside flashed crazily in her eyes, which were merely points in a sea of white and red. "They. Eat. Books!"

"But—"

He squeaked when Glitterhoof was shoved in his face. Its gaping eye sockets bored into his soul. Although it was silly, he could almost believe that it was trying to order him to obey.

Sighing, he felt his heart sink. "Yes, ma'am," he muttered.

***

"Dreck," Diellza asked, her voice low and steady. She whimpered, her shoulders slumping and her wings limply hanging by her sides. Orange light shimmered off her face, and screams from the many griffons rioting in Katerinburg made their way into the hallway of the palace.

"Did I really think that making them eat books was a good idea?" She turned to face Dreck, who was likewise watching the chaos unfold below.

Pillars of flame shot up from the city, billowing clouds of soot wafting slowly away from it. Griffons scattered in the streets, smashing windows and beating the hell out of each other. Cats and dogs lay down in the streets, and he swore he saw a pig flying somewhere. That, or it was the sole banker of the city.

He ignored her question, letting it sink in while he pondered their precarious predicament. It could have been worse, he mused. They could have been ordered to stop being stupid. He kicked himself mentally. Diellza demanding that the citizens stop being poor was still her most boneheaded move to date.

That, or they could have been required to shave themselves naked, be painted purple, and dance about how her cunning plans were here again.

He glanced over at her, a few tears forming on the edge of his eyes.

Streams of water were pouring down her face. Dangling bits of snot and mucus were slowly elongating along her beak. Overall, her fur and feathers were frazzled. Her crown was chipped, somehow, and hung limply on her head.

Soft shivers rippled down her body, and faint crying reached his ears. This was the Diellza that few ever saw. She was just a poor chick. One who had lost her parents far too early. She was rare to come out, but when she did, it took only the most coldhearted to not melt before her.

There was a crash, and he jerked his head around to see the great temple of Boreas burst into a pyre. Screeches rose from the city, and griffons started to cheer at the destruction. A few plundered the surrounding buildings of the temple, attempting to find any possible treasure.

Biting his lip, he turned back to face her. She was still sobbing, and had fallen onto her haunches. He shuffled forward and gently wrapped a forearm around her. Patting her on the back, he stated, "Unfortunately, you did, ma'am. However, I think it can still be rescinded."

She pulled back. Her pupils dilated. Glimmers of awe shimmered in her eyes, and she breathed, "Can we? Oh! Can we set up schools for them to learn?!" She smiled. "I always wanted to go to school!"

Giving her a warm hug, he chuckled. "Of course we can, ma'am. Let me write it up for the messengers." Groaning, he got up and stretched his back. A couple of pops resounded, and he pulled out a piece of paper.

As he began to canter down the hall, he heard her cry, "Dreck, you're always so nice to me. You listen to me when I'm angry. You aren't like the butlers before you."

His heart melted. A few tears coming to his cheeks, he turned around and beamed at her. "I'm just doing my duty, ma'am." He bowed and continued on his way, the words of praise ringing in his ears. Take that, Muck! You might have a city, but I have a princess!

***

Maybe Muck is the lucky one, after all, Dreck grumbled to himself, trying his best to get the stiffness out of his neck. The roar—more like groan—of the crowd filled his ears, and he blinked a few times as the hood was raised from his head.

Sunlight poured into his eyes, and he squinted to try and make out the details. He was in an expansive courtyard, the main one outside the Katerinburg Palace. Spires of stone filled his peripheral vision. Although sparse, there were a few griffons flittering by, diving around the towers to land on the stands arranged around the yard.

Diellza was currently sitting on a mobile throne, her face contorted with glee. She was hastily glancing between him and Glitterhoof, and she wiggled, barely able to contain herself. Beside her stood another griffon, sweat pouring down his face, who wore the same suit that once adorned Dreck.

He sighed. Of course his time was due. He had lasted longer than any previous butler, and he was bound to "mess up" at some point. How would he know, however, that wearing a bowtie one day would be offensive to the great sensibilities of Diellza von Katerinburg?

Well, at least I will have died knowing I accomplished something, he groused, frowning as he saw a squat, beefy griffon trundle up the wooden platform. He wore a tall, pointed hood, the only things visible being his golden eyes, which flashed with pride.

Diellza was true to her word. Public schools had been slated for construction using royal funds. Would they ever be completed? He knew not. Given that the Katerintreue still very much held sway, they would find some reason for it to end up in their pockets instead.

However, that didn't stop him from having some influence. He chuckled. Dreck von Sclammschwimmer. At one time, he was just a poor griff. Then, he was dredged out of the mud and given the honor, although not many would claim it, of being the princess’s primary servant. Perhaps he wasn't the most educated, but he knew enough that it helped make a difference in the end.

Soon, it'd all be over, and Boreas, Eyr, Arcturies, heck, even Maar, could reward him with splendor beyond comprehension. Perhaps he could finally ask Eyr why the devil she decided to make him look like he was constantly dirty. She probably would just say she found it funny.

"Oi, you comfortable, mate?" the executioner inquired, bending down and staring Dreck in the eye.

Dreck shrugged. "Meh, I've seen better chopping blocks."

Nodding, the griffon responded with a sad sigh. "I know, I know. I wanted to bring me own chopping piece, but the princess wouldn't allow it." He clicked his tongue and stood up. He groaned and arched his back, a couple of cracks emanating from it.

Growling, Dreck glowered at the executioner. After a couple of seconds, he said, "Actually, there's a bloody knot right in the side of my neck. I hate to be a bother, but would you mind?" If he was free, he'd indicate where.

"I got ya, mate," the executioner replied with a throaty laugh. Heavily, he cantered behind Dreck and grabbed with both talons. He twisted. Hard.

Squawking, Dreck felt the tension in his neck release and then some, and soon waves of euphoria washed over his body. Going limp, he groaned and gagged out, "Thank you." He smiled contently.

With a laugh, the executioner walked back round and gave him a grin. At least, he assumed it was a grin, given the twinkle in the griffon's eye. "Ain't let it be said I leave a customer unsatisfied!"

Grabbing a piece of paper from underneath the hood, the griffon tapped his forehead momentarily and stated, "Now, if you don't mind me asking: how d'you want to be buried today? I know this undertaker, and I can get a good deal."

"Oh, just cremation. I don't have any family."

"Right, right." The griffon scratched something and then peered at him. "Any specific urns? We got a special on Wingbardian pottery."

Humming to himself, Dreck finally shook his head and replied, "Any old thing will do." He snickered, gazing at Diellza for a moment. "I don't think I'll be very picky."

Another scribble. A few jots, one slash, and two tittles later, and the executioner coughed loudly while putting away the paper. "Right then, I think we're done! Thank you for participating in this pre-death survey." He grabbed an axe which glinted sharply in the sunlight.

For a moment, the crowd went silent, and Dreck continued to stare at Diellza. Briefly, there was a flash of regret in her eyes, then she crinkled her brow and stuck out her tongue. She pointed her talon down, and the griffons booed. It was time.

She's just a child, Dreck mused, sensing the executioner tromp behind him. A soft squeak of metal could be heard as the axe was raised. I can't fault her for it. What would I be like if I lost everyone dear at such a young age?

Diellza sliced her forearm through the air, silencing the crowd. "Any last requests?" she demanded, holding Glitterhoof next to her. She muttered something to it and then went back to glaring at him.

"Only that you know, I always serve you, ma'am," he called back, closing his eyes and steeling himself.

A flash of metal. A thud of iron on wood. The roar of griffons. Gagging, heaving, retching. All these sounds and more rose from the courtyard as Dreck von Schlammschwimmer became no more.

For a moment, Diellza just stared at the remains, blood beginning to pool in a wide puddle. Streams of it dripped from the wooden block, and she saw Drecky start to roll away on the ground. His tongue lolled out in a most humorous way.

"Will you miss him, Dizzy?" Glitterhoof asked, tilting his head to the side and looking at her. It wasn't disapproving, merely tired.

Bowing, the executioner waved to the crowd, blowing them a few kisses before sauntering his way off the platform. A few guards trotted up to the remains of Drecky and dragged him off the chopping block. Drecky's head continued to roll away.

"Maybe a little," Diellza whimpered, a lump growing in her throat as she watched Drecky wander along. Her heart hitched, and she grimaced. Morosely, she took to the sky and flapped toward his head. As she landed, it bumped against her talons and looked up at her.

He was still sticking his tongue out.

The more she looked, the funnier it got. After a few seconds, she started to snicker, and she poked the griffon's head with a claw. "Hey, Drecky," she whispered. She glanced at Glitterhoof, who was merely watching her with mild amusement.

A soft chuckle echoed from his muzzle, and she heard him say, "You're so adorable when you're having fun, my love."

Giggling, she turned back to Drecky and poked him a couple more times. Finally, she pulled him up by the crest feathers and stared at his closed eyes. She was tempted to open them, but he looked a bit tired. He kinda needed a rest, after all. He was a busy griff.

"Take a nap, Drecky, I'll find a use for you later." She wrapped her forearm around his head and peered around the courtyard.

Much of the walls had been repaired, but most of the city still burned and smoldered. Griffons were without shelter, and she couldn't let her citizens freeze when the colder months came.

Humming to herself, she glanced at Glitterhoof, then Drecky. Repeating the process one more time, she chirped to herself. A devious sneer began to form on her beak, and she rubbed her talons together. Whirling around, she gazed at her new butler, Dusty.

The tan griffon whimpered when he saw that she was leering at him.

"Dusty! A new decree!" she stated, slowly sauntering her way up to him. Resting her head on the armrest of the throne, she ruffled her wings and stated, "There's all these dead griffons from the riots. I have a plan to keep everygriff else warm! I hope they know how to skin a cat, or pluck a bird, or, you could say, both!"

She chortled, flashing him a wide grin, and he gulped.

"Yes, ma'am."

FIN

Author's Note

And with that, we end our tale of the great Dreck von Schlemmenschwimmer. From the mud he came, and to the mud he went. :rainbowlaugh:

This was a fun one to write, as the idea came in literally half an hour after I was informed of the writing contest for Equestria at War. Practicing my dark humor muscles is always a welcome challenge to me. For my inspiration, I took some influence from the Blackadder series, with a few bits of Queen Elizabeth from the second series and then the Edmund Blackadder from the third series. Throw in a bit of gallows humor at the end with the wacky executioner, and you have a recipe for some laughs.

Thanks again to EverfreePony for all their help in editing. They were fantastic as a bouncing board for getting the fic not to intimidating for people who don't play the mod, and of course, the many edits to improve it as well.

T4E