Author's Note

Good Evening! Or whatever.

Welcome to the 18th chapter. From here on out, you all are going to notice a decidedly different direction the story will take, while still following along the original path of the original. This, is where life becomes VERY complicated for our intrepid protagonist.

As always, leave your comments on what you think. Instead of my Kofi being shilled, I would ask that you donate to Samaritans Purse. One of the many organizations helping those down in Florida. Hurricane Ian was a right and proper dick and slapped around my southern neighbors like a pimp.

So if you can, help out.

Thank you for reading.

Peace!

Griffonia

The journey northwest was long. Nearly six days, with a couple of stops per day, to allow the passengers to get out and stretch their legs. Wings, in the case of the avian voyagers, that seemed to steadily increase with each halt in his trip.

It was a very curious thing to find that on the second day of waking up on the train that he was alone. Well, not alone alone, but he was the lone pony on a train packed full of griffons of various sizes and colors. However, the colors were more muted to the browns and tans spectrum of the color wheel.

Races, too, as not all were a standard. Some with thin stork-like beaks, others had fat bills reminding him of that one bird from the internet. The creepy dinosaur-like one that he could not remember the name for.

Many looked, for lack of better wording, run over. The males were dead-eyed and haggard. With their chicks clutching the threadbare hems of their outfits, the females looked hopeless as they stared vacantly out the windows, not really seeing the scenery.

They must have begged, possibly even stole, the bits to afford a ticket. The furtive glances of some spoke that not all had even been able to pay the fare.

What really broke his heart was the kids. Sunken cheeks and thin frames. Filling meals seemed to be incredibly hard to come by here, and it tore at him to know some of them might potentially die.

Reading about it was one thing. The reality of seeing what had been happening was far, far worse.

Why hadn't Celestia done anything? One thing Orion knew about the monarch was her love for kids. His wasn't the only class that visited the singular ruler of Equestria. So it made no sense to him that she would not even lift a finger to help the children of this country. Was the cost that great?

None of this was right. There was no international coalition of people to try and solve this. Even in his war-riddled former home world, there had been folks trying to uplift the downtrodden and hungry. To at least provide clean drinking water.

As they passed over the border and further into Griffonia itself, he spotted several burned-out and abandoned homesteads that dotted the landscape. Sweeping grasslands gave way to thick forests and back again, hiding the desolate sights from view. Those homes were a black mark on the land, those that his eye caught at least. There could be several hundred he was not seeing.

It was the third day, and he couldn't take it anymore. A young griffon chick had been watching him eat, watching him eat at night no less.

It had been an uncomfortable situation as he had been eating late into the evening from his travel rations to avoid this very thing. She had woken up, and Orion caught her staring just as he pushed a ripped-up portion of bread into his mouth.

Those tears in her eyes had been what had finally broken him. Rarity’s pension for generosity must have rubbed off on him more than he realized.

A train was pulling in, coming from the south from what Fiesta Garden could tell. She sighed heavily as she rose from the bench she had been sitting on for what felt like days.

She had been foolish. Allowing her sister to talk her into setting up here in what was essentially the middle of nowhere.

"The griffins will be easy!" Farra had told her. "They have no way of storing food on their own with any real longevity. All you have to do is buy fish, bread, and water. Maybe some beer and wine too. They’ll throw their bits at you!"

That had not happened.

Instead, she barely broke even as the poorest of their society haggled with old items of no real value for just a bite of bread. A sliver of cheese.

It broke Fiesta's heart. Especially the foals. But at the same time, she wouldn't be able to afford anything if she just gave away what she had purchased.

Turning from the rail line as the train slowed, she swung open the doors to the small warehouse she had turned into a makeshift store. Barrels of fish with crystals embedded into the lid stood off to one side. They had been each charged with a preservation spell that gave them the ability to last nearly a full year before the contents inside spoiled.

She hated fish. But they went the quickest if she was lucky. All of it was pre-cooked, the spell keeping it in that same state for the complete duration if it was necessary. But each time she opened a lid, a little bit of time would leak away.

Fiesta checked the covered carts ladened with cheeses and bread. Fruits and vegetables as well. Everything seemed good and still ripe.

When she was young, she had first learned about griffons from school. The image in her head about giant vicious meat eaters didn't get replaced till she arrived in Canterlot well into her adult years while working with a merchant caravan.

It was quite surprising to learn of the varied diet of the race.

That alone was why the unicorn had even agreed to her crazy sibling's mad idea.

Turning around, she was confronted by a very tall, handsome black unicorn stallion. His fiery orange mane billowed in the wind. Beads of wood and steel clacked together discordantly.

"Oh my…" Married as she was, she could still appreciate a well-kept male, and she found her eyes wandering over his shoulders before getting to startling hard eyes.

"I don't usually get ponies looking to shop at my store, but what can I help you with?" He grunted as those eyes of his scanned her goods, lingering on the barrels of fish in particular.

"How much?" His demeanor seemed strained. Was he actually asking about the fish?

"I'm sorry. Are you asking about the vegetables? Fruit?"

"All of it." Came his flat reply.

"W-what?" She shook her head. Was he serious? "I'm sorry…sir…but is your herd-"

"Don't have a herd, traveling north on my own." He interrupted. "Please, no questions. I don't have a lot of time. The train only stops for about ten minutes. How much for everything you have here." His tone and his face pleaded with her, spoke to the urgency.

Was he a hostage? No. No, there was no pony but them currently at her stall. A peak behind him showed a lot of eyes in the windows, watching. Griffon eyes, well as their offspring.

"Could he be actually be wanting to buy it all…for them?" Fiesta had heard of nobles supplying a festival for when crops had come in early and in plenty. But that was limited to ponies. She had never heard of anypony doing so for another species.

The unicorn mare ran the numbers in her head quickly and blinked. She stood to make a lot of coins this morning. She licked her lips which were suddenly very dry.

"With everything here…six hundred and seventy-eight bits. Gold weight, sir." He couldn't be serious. That was a lot of bits for anypony to carry on them at one time. Let alone a wet behind the ears stallion like him.

Her internal humor came to an abrupt stop as he dropped two washcloth bags in front of her, pulling a third to begin counting out the remainder of what she had asked.

He paused. His gray gaze was directed behind her.

"How much for those bags?" He gestured with a closed fist, coins clinking within from the sudden movement.

Turning, Fiesta saw that the black pony had spotted a pile of rough woolen sacks. She had gotten them for bare coppers. She glanced back at him, and then behind at the eyes of griffons and their foals.

"Free with your purchase, sir." She mumbled numbly. Nodding, he forced the gold into her hands.

His horn lit up like a torch, and the barrels of fish lifted from their places in her shop. All fifteen of them. "So strong." Her face must have mimicked her shock because he smirked as he grabbed a few more items, including the bags. She had heard of other, particularly powerful, unicorns being capable of similar feats of strength and skill with their magic. But for her, she was weak. Her whole bloodline had always been. Her grandmother had said it was too much earth pony in the blood. Though her grandmother was a known racist that everyone seemed to ignore. So it could be just the fault of no pony in her family actually trying to exceed in the skill they were born with.

She stood to one side, her hands gripping her payment tightly, as he ran back and forth, hauling what took her an entire day to put into the store in only a few minutes.

"Thanks!" He shouted before diving back into the train as the whistle blew.

"Hey! You shits! No hoarding the fucking food!" She heard him roar over the whistle blasts as the steam engine picked up speed. "Eat it slow! Y'all likely not eaten in a while, and you'll make yourselves sick! I said slow, you fuckin’ chipmunk! You! Yes, you! Share with your sister-” The blast of train whistles and the hissing of steam drowned out his ranting.

Fiesta couldn’t help but grin. Her sister was never going to believe this. As the train pulled away, the mare’s heart felt oddly light. Perhaps she should look into making a non-profit?

Screaming paced in front of the train station. Her mind raced with questions.

Questions like, what did he look like now? Was he still taller than her? Had he changed in some way not conveyed in their letters?

She ran hands in her feathers, adjusting any strays that hadn't been taken care of that morning. Her clawed fingertips also found themselves straightening her dress for what felt like the thousandth time by now.

She was so nervous. No, terrified. If she didn't settle herself soon, she was likely to molt right on the spot! Images of her suddenly losing her plumage just as he stepped off the train somehow made it all worse.

Gilda had given up trying to calm her. The guard assigned to her wore an exasperated expression as she watched her charge attempt to carve a path into the cobblestone street with her paws alone. Her disapproval did not go unnoticed.

"I know! I just…what if he doesn't…." Screaming glanced at a window, checking herself over in the warped lead glass as best she could. Again.

She had preened with the best oils her allowance could afford. The oils had the scent of lavender and field berries mixed in, giving her a floral and subtle fruity smell. The now grown hen had also applied a red eyeliner around the edges of her eyes, to match the red powder she had put on her ear tufts. Soft, gentle hazel eyes with gold flecks stared back at her nervously.

For her outfit, she had worn a dark red shirt with rich silver embroidery along the bodice. The pants were unadorned black, though they hugged her curves nicely, she hoped.

Her aunt, Gabriele, had said a drake would have to be blind and dead not to notice.

As she walked from home to the station, her relative’s advice had been proven true. Screaming couldn't help but notice the way a great many griffons had watched her pass intently. That had been a severe boost in her confidence.

However, she cared very little for what they wished or thought of her looks and figure, just Orion.

Orion. That colt had surprised her when a letter had arrived yesterday telling her he was on his way, that he would arrive today! If she was honest, she was a bit peeved at him. He had not even given her any time to arrange more of a greeting. Or to get a dress tailored to impress!

The nerve.

She adjusted her top once more. Would he find her pretty? Screaming couldn't help but observe her breasts straining the fabric. Were they too big?

Growing up, she had discovered she was more buxom than the other hens her age. She was tall for one and far more voluptuous than the others in her peer group. That had isolated her in many ways. Though until she had reached fifteen, Screaming hadn't had a clue as to why. Snide comments and aggressive attitudes were piled onto her whenever she arrived for a party.

She had dealt with years of hateful female antagonism because of it.

She slapped her cheeks. "Stop it! That's in the past. You've moved beyond such pettiness." The griffoness took a deep breath and let it go. Smiling at her slightly warped visage with faux confidence. That shallow self-assurance was nearly shattered by the whistle blast and the screech of steel on steel. The train had finally arrived.

"Are…are you really here?" She asked in her heart as the locomotive came to a grounding halt on the tracks inside the station proper. After a minute of waiting, the carriage attached to the steam engine opened, and a tide of smiling, even happy-looking, griffons poured out of the open doors.

Screaming was taken back by the laughter that reached her ears. Even Gilda had been caught unawares as she stood up and came to stand by her side, eyes hunting for trouble.

In the past, she had come down and watched the trains disgorge their payload of broken-spirited people. The haggard faces tore at her heart. The crying chicks made her want to collapse in despair. She had finally come home to find it practically beyond saving.

Looking into the faces of those now moving past her, she could still see the tired and stretched expressions of worry. But there was a sparkle in their eyes that she had only seen among the noble classes, or those still with a roof over their heads.

What had happened?

Toward the end of the flock of passengers came a more tightly packed group. Chicks hung off the arms and shoulders of the largest stallion she had ever personally seen. Their parents were also there, acting as almost an honor guard as their eyes swept suspiciously at anyone not a part of their group.

When their gazes fell on him, they smiled broadly. Warmth and happiness fighting upon their faces.

That stallion had to stand at least a head taller than the tallest griffon amongst the entourage. All black with a fiery orange mane, hints of brown threaded through with beads of metal and wood hanging on braided strands.

His chin sported a beard that ran halfway up his jaw. It shared in the mane coloring, though the chin fluff was slightly darker.

The unicorn stallion wore simple clothing. A tan collar-less shirt, the laces at the neck hanging loose, and a pair of dark brown cotton pants. The ends were tied up above the cannons with neat little bows.

Stone gray eyes, which had always been buried in books, now held mirth as he picked up and swung one of the chicks in the air like she was flying. The little hen in the making shrieked with laughter as she flapped her wings without any real force. At the same time, he began chasing the little ones around him, making roaring noises. The cubs scattered in mock terror, squealing and laughing all at once.

This was the moody colt she had left behind in Canterlot?! He hated foals. Hated the idea of having to even teach them anything! What under the Sun had happened?

Taking another look at her long-time letter friend, she noticed with a furious blush how well he filled out that shirt he wore. "Oh, sweet Celestia! He never stopped with the gym, did he?" Screaming figured he would have eventually neglected his other hobby because he had stayed stuck to his books for so long. That appeared not to be the case.

Approaching slowly, she coughed to get his attention. Instead, she received some rather unfriendly stares from those around him.

His head rose after setting down the chick he had picked up. For the moment, all he did was squint at her before his eyes lit up, and he grinned broadly, sharp teeth shining in the mid-morning sunlight.

Someone had coughed loudly. Sensing that someone was trying to get his attention, he set down Frida and looked up.

"No…is that really-?"

His friend from afar had grown up! Grown-up and out in all the right places to boot.

The red makeup around her eyes and ear tips really suited her. Her brown-green eyes gave away her nervousness. Which was good because he had not recognized her at first and had needed to really look at the fully grown hen to make sure it was her.

Slinging a kid off his neck, he stepped forward.

"Screaming? Holy shit, girl! Look at you! You're drop-dead gorgeous!" He exclaimed.

His pen pal gaped at him, then blushed furiously. He had either gotten worse with his language, or the griffon had completely forgotten how curse-happy he was.

He felt a tug at a pant leg and looked down. Frida stared up at him in confusion.

"What's up, Squirt?" He asked with a smile.

"What does "shit" mean?" She asked curiously. Her head cocked cutely to one side.

His smile broke into a grin as he glanced at her mother, who had been squawking at him since the third day of his violently vulgar tirade about their eating habits. Orion had simply not wanted them to make themselves sick or start World War Three over the food he had hastily purchased.

The black colt had learned two things that day. No, three things.

One: Some griffons could screech at the same level of a pig squeal. He was now becoming worried he might get tinnitus in his later years over all the sharp and loud noises he had been subjected to lately.

Two: They can purr like cats. It was wildly cute if a little puzzling.

And three: Starving people do not think rationally when given what is essentially a buffet. It took him two hours to wrangle some semblance of order from the chaos of bringing that much food onto the train.

The other two train carts had also sent sorties in an attempt to snag supplies. They were apparently thinking he only intended to feed the carriage he was staying in, and that much food was far too tempting not to attempt a smash and grab.

Once order had been reinforced, which involved him going full powered monster mode, they all settled down. The realization that he had not bought for himself alone seemed to mollify them greatly.

His near-violent explosion had not stopped Gertrude Fallowfeather.

Once the food had been distributed, and he had made sure the group had followed his instructions, the hen laid into him.

He got distinct "Granny" vibes from the lady.

Apparently, her daughter, Frida Fallowfeather, had a rather inquisitive nature and had been pestering her mother about the various curses he had laid into the lot of them with.

Needless to say, mother was not happy.

Friedrich, her husband, and the chick's father did his best to keep the peace between Orion and his wife. The drake was just happy that his family was fully fed for the first time in months and a bit amused by the animosity brewing between his mate and the colt that provided for them.

"Ask your mother, kiddo." He chuckled at the dark look the lady in rags gave him. Looking at her husband, who in the past couple of days, had become the de facto leader of the group, his grin fell to a solemn frown. "You know what to do?"

"Yes. The others are making the needed purchases now." Mr. Fallowfeather replied.

This morning, on their approach to the city, Orion gathered all the adult drakes in the last cabin of the train and asked them if they wanted some advice. A few balked and left. But those that stayed, including the griffon who would become the figurehead of their party.

"I'd avoid the city if I were you guys." He started simply. That statement was met with understandable skepticism and less than understandable hostility.

"What in Tartarus do you suppose we do then? Go out into the wilderness and die?!" Spat a particularly ugly bird-cat. Sometime in his past, he must have said the wrong thing and got his beak twisted for his mistake. "I will not lead my hatchlings to their deaths!"

That got appreciative grunts of approval from a few of the others.

Orion bit the inside of his cheek before deciding to be frank with the shithead.

"Better to take your chances in a place where your kids are likely to be shanked in an alley over the food they carry?" He fired back.

"You threatening my chicks?!" Shouted bent beak, who had taken a threatening step forward.

The black colt stood from the wooden box he had chosen to sit on, and his horn burst to life. "I'm about to make you armless. How's that for a threat?!"

That brought broken nose up short.

"Gentledrakes! Please!" Stepped in Friedrich, placing a hand on both of them. "Our chicks are fed, Hans. They are safe." He said softly to Orion's antagonist. Turning to the colt, he spoke sternly. "If no one else shall say it, I will. I am grateful to you for what you have done. I am also ashamed that I could not do it myself." Dropping his arms and stepping back, he continued. "But you are barely into your eighteenth summer, or I am a pickled egg."

Mr. Fallowfeather had been one of those that had helped in restoring and maintaining order once the food had been provided. He was loathed to lie to him.

"Well pickled you be, I'm only fifteen." He snarked but let go of his magic. He remained standing, however.

That got a snort from broken beak.

"And we are supposed to take advice from you?" He said incredulously. "You can stand here and listen to him spout his nonsense, Friedrich. But I won't hear of it." He marched for the door, others following him. Stopping, Hans glanced over his shoulder. "I am grateful. But charity does not make you wise." He left.

The others that followed murmured their own thanks and followed after.

"Yeah, well, knowledge of history, and a healthy understanding of what people who are desperate will do to save themselves, actually does make someone wise." He snorted. "Or at least less idiotic."

"What do you mean…colt?" The older griffon made an effort to use pony vernacular.

"Tell me, if the opportunity to get away with a crime in order to feed yourself or your family were available, would you take it?" Several sets of paws shifted uncomfortably amongst those that had stayed. No one answered, and no one needed to. "Exactly. Desperate times will make monsters of us all."

"I…I cannot dispute that." And uncomfortable silence descended inside the baggage cart.

Friedrich coughed, breaking the atmosphere of dread.

"You said you wanted to give us advice?" He asked, a curious look on his face.

"Yeah." Orion sighed. "Yes, I do. I know you guys got bits on you, or whatever the currency is here. My advice is not to stay in the Griffonstone for more than a day. Buy seeds, and go to one of the abandoned settlements, preferably one with a river running through it."

A thin-faced, almost heron-like, griffon spoke up. "Why? In the city, we are safe."

"You think the guard, which I hear is stretched thin across the nation, is going to be able to protect you from a thief?" The colt asked sarcastically. "If all they do is steal from you, that's just condemning you to suffer starvation. Out at an abandoned town or village, it should be easy to repair, considering most homes are built in the trees."

Most villages near the capital had been built up inside great trees. Bridges are strung across the gaps to connect them all together. Below, a clearing would be created to allow for crops to grow. Many had been abandoned for decades now. But the homes carved into the massive timbers should still be there. They would not have to start from the ground up like a typical frontier homestead.

"I can see your point. But Dieter is right. Why?" Friedrich shrugged. "Sure, there is danger. But that is everywhere these days. So why should we not stay in the city where we can at least stay warm?"

"Gangs, for one." He held up a finger. "But more importantly, number two is the fact that griffons have been running to major cities and towns for years. Food supplies are gonna be strained. Not only will your arrival already threaten to snap that, but fights are gonna break out. Someone is going to get killed."

A long pause.

"So what do you recommend." Orion wanted to sigh in relief. He pulled out three pages he had copied from notes and books he had brought with him. That was all he had time to do the night before, but he hoped that would be enough as it was a brief overview of their next steps. At least it would feed them through the winter.

"I wrote down what you need to do. From crops to finding salt. Also digging an underground storage to preserve food." He handed them over to Friedrich. "There are also notes on making bows and arrows, wooden spears too. Game might have returned to the forest with the abandonment of the settlements. You'll need them."

The notes on bow making hadn't come from his own knowledge, but from a book he had found back in Canterlot. It had been second hand, and old to boot. So it might have become fifth or sixth hand by the time it reached his searching ones.

"Griffon Hunts" had been an interesting read. But he couldn't spare them the book as he still had need of it. Rather he hoped their predatory instincts and the few notes he wrote down as guidance would help them survive.

"My recommendation is simple. Stay together. Grab any seeds you can, and move as soon as possible." He tapped his chin. "Also, once you get there, have people up at night to watch over each other, like guards. Even if all they do is shout a warning, that should drive off any opportunists that may want to take advantage of the situation."

The diminished group looked over the notes with a skeptical eye.

"I'm not sure we can do this," Dieter commented sullenly. "It is a lot to ask our families to do." The thin beaked griffon fixed him with a look. "Why are you so keen on helping us? Up to now, other than a few ponies I have heard about, none of your kind has lifted a feather before. Plus, you're young by your own beak. What does it matter to you what happens to us?"

Orion bit the inside of his cheek. A habit he was finding himself doing more and more as of late.

"I know what it's like to go without. I know what it is like to wonder where my next meal is coming from or if I will even eat at all." He sat down on the wooden box from before. "Those notes, will not make your group profitable. As a town, you'll be entirely on your own with no outside support."

"And as we are now, we are only a drain on the city." Mused Friedrich, who had been quietly going over his writings. "You propose that we strike out on our own, without the assistance of the Crown…."

"Yes, it's a risk. But with a river, you have fresh water and fish available. If you go to one of the settlements that have been abandoned long enough, there should be something to hunt." He reiterated with a sigh. "Your only issue is preserving food. I'd put in a lot of effort into finding a salt mine, or starting one would help."

"How so?"

The only pony in the train cart gestured to the sheets of paper in their hands. "There are instructions on how to cure meat, and the preservation of food is in there, on the last page. Salt can greatly help with that, and the cold weather will double that." He snorted. "And if you guys figure out how to make barrels and manage to start mining salt regularly, that can be your industry."

That got slow nods. "We shall consider it. Thank you, Mr. Falls." The tone in Friedrich's voice said that he understood that it would be a lot more complicated than all that. But understood what he had been trying to do.

They filed out without a word to him, talking quietly among themselves.

Before they had departed the carriage, several griffons had started hauling off the train the barrels he had purchased. That was smart. The crystals had enough power to project that preservation spell for a few more months that he could tell. The pony would have recast that spell, but doing so with a matrix already in place may crack the crystal the original spell would be connected to.

Friedrich had approached Orion and informed him that they planned to go through with his suggestions.

Surprisingly it was the hens that had made the decision. Prioritizing the safety of their children over the city. They had unanimously pushed for the colt's proposed plan, and the drakes had quickly caved.

Well, almost all the drakes.

Hans's group was going to remain in the city, despite some of the arguments they had with their wives.

It was the best he was going to get.

"Good. Make sure to watch out for each other, and go in groups." Orion stuck out a hand. "Good luck, Mr. Fallowfeather."

Grasping his proffered limb with his own, the older griffon grinned. "Thank you, Mr. Falls." Letting go, he turned to his mate, who was still trying to hush Frida's inquiries about foul language. "Heart, we need to go."

Gertrude nodded grimly.

Orion could only chuckle to himself as he watched the family, along with many others who had remained with them, march down the street.

"What…was that about?" The sudden voice of Screaming nearly caused him to leap out of his skin. He wanted to smack himself. He had completely forgotten the young lady was there at all.

"That was just a little side business that I hope they make the most of." He turned to his long-time friend. "Long time no see, featherhead." He laughed at the mild insult. "How's the adopted life treating you?"

Behind Screaming, another hen stood in armor. She seemed to bristle at his words but restrained whatever she was going to say into a glare directed at him.

His friend laughed instead and slapped him lightly in mock indignation. "It's great. How's the orphan's life treating you, hornhead?"

"Eh, can't complain too much." He picked up his bags. One he had to hold in his magic. "Foods better now that I am cooking for myself. You look, well, amazing. Clearly, rich people's food is treating you very well." He grinned as she hit him once again.

"Are you calling me fat!?" He could tell she was not truly angry. A little indignant, but she seemed to absorb his snarky humor in good stride.

"Naw, just seems your body really hung onto the food you ate in all the right places." She blushed heavily, looking down.

A cough drew their attention to the griffon that had been glaring at him. "City guard?" Considering the polish of the armor, she just might be. Though griffon soldiers at outposts he had seen on his way in seemed to make do with battered steel.

"Uh yes, officer? Something we do wrong?" The look he got in response was a bewildered cock to the guard's head, her feathers around her neck fluffed up. Orion had no idea how to read that. But he was going to go on the assumption that he somehow got her position wrong.

"No, Orion." Scream was laughing softly. "That is my personal guard, Gilda Broadwing. She is assigned to my retinue and was chosen to escort me today to meet you here and pick you up."

The colt's gaze swapped back and forth between the pair.

A personal guard? Scream had an entourage? Just who in the hell had adopted her? He shook his head to shake the thoughts away.

"Just how rich are your parents?" He was implying her adoptive parents. "You get adopted by a noble? Or just a super wealthy merchant?" If she were a merchant's daughter, his goals would be far easier to accomplish than he had originally hoped. Otherwise, he was stuck hoping to approach a reasonably well-placed figure as he had planned from the beginning.

His friend blushed and looked away without answering him.

"Just…how high up the social food chain are you, Scream?"

Instead of her answering, her guard, Gilda, chose to respond in her stead.

"Sir, if I may?" He nodded, and she continued. "Lady Grace Fairheart is twelfth in line for the Crown of Griffonia.

"Twelfth in line of rule?!" His eyes bulged. "LADY GRACE FAIRHEART?!"

Sigurd Bloodbeak Fairheart was the full name of the current ruling monarch of Griffonia. Most only mentioned him as King Bloodbeak.

He gapped at the guard, then at his suddenly very noble friend.

His face must have been hilarious because he got a smirk from Gilda, and giggling from Screaming.

"Um…yes. So it turns out. That my late parents were a part of the Griffonian Royal Line." She said demurely.

"HOW?!" Orion could not help the very bird-like screech in his voice.

"When I was young, my parents were working with a noble family from Equestria. Between them, they were working toward coming up with a solution to my people's destitution."

He had to smile at her word usage. The colt had once remembered Screaming telling him that fancy words like that were for nerds. Clearly, she had joined him in the Kingdom of Nerdom.

She continued.

"During a visit to the border town of Windthrope, on the edge of the Garberithian Mountains, both my parents and the noble ponies they were working with fell victim to the chaos of the food riots there." His smile fell. The news that her family had died attempting to help their people really sucked. That still didn't explain how she ended up in Equestria, or Canterlot for that matter.

"I was really young, barely more than a hatchling when it happened, so I don't remember much." She pawed at the ground. "My parents…were trapped in their carriage by a mob, and had been pushed over the edge of one of the mountain ravines. I was with a guard when it happened."

"Oh…shit. Scre-, I mean, Grace. I'm sorry that happened." He mumbled quietly.

"You can keep calling me Screaming." She responded back, just as quietly.

Gilda coughed again.

"Yes, anyways." She said louder. "During the chaos, my guard lost me in the crowd."

Orion knew the riot she was talking about. It had been highlighted in his history class as a testament to how unreasonable the griffon people could be. And why upstanding ponies shouldn't really interact with native-born griffons. It bothered him greatly that his adoptive race had such a view of other species.

Still, that riot had carried on for over a week. Five thousand souls were lost when the town was eventually burned to the ground. No one knew where or when the fire started, but the blaze consumed most of the carnage that happened in the streets there.

"I take it, by the time you were found, you were already inside Equestria."

"Yes." She nodded vigorously. "An Equestrian guard patrol found me. They gave me the name Screaming Rush…because, well, I was screaming a lot and always trying to run away. Eventually, I was given over to Mrs. Evergarden, and I grew up there. Forgetting who I was entirely."

The depressing tale really brought down the jovial mood. Even her guard's features had fallen from what he suspected was their usual sternness.

"Anyways," she declared in a brighter tone, "I became a nobody. I was too young to really remember much about my parents or who I was." She shrugged. "Till my uncle found me."

By uncle, she meant the current King of Griffonia.

"Holy shit." He muttered quietly. "You little shithead! You never said anything in your letters!" He exclaimed. He would have shaken her, but he had his hands full with the bags clutched tightly in his fists. "This is a pretty big fuckin' brick to drop on someone, for fucks sake!"

"I know, I'm sorry!" She responded, remorse plastered on her beak. Orion had long since given up on trying to figure out how their bills did that.

"Ugh, it's fine. I take it the "uncle" is the King."

"Yes."

"And you stay in the castle halfway up the mountain?" He groaned.

"Yes…" She said, quiet once again.

"Well, daylights a wasting. Let's get going, and you can fill me in." He flexed his hands, already dreading how much stuff he had packed for his trip.

Grace Fairheart was her real name. She had confirmed to him again as they began their journey through the city.

Her parents, the late Lord Egon and Lady Petra Fairheart, had been activists. Giving their time and money in an attempt to improve conditions for the citizens of Griffonia. They were well beloved by the people for their compassion and kindness. Often going beyond normal means to procure food and medicine for the underprivileged of the nation. Their deaths were a catastrophic blow.

The ringleaders of the riot, those that had been apprehended, were executed publicly. Rather barbarically from what Gilda had inputted.

Even now, her parents were honored with vigils celebrating their lives. Many merchants had begun attempting to offer aid to those in need every year on the day of their deaths. In honor of their service to others in life.

Her family's fortunes were much depleted by the time Screaming had returned. Her family's holdings were currently being held by another for some reason, she would not go into it with him. But the way she spoke meant trouble of some sort.

Now she lived on a stipend granted by her uncle, the King, and worked to reclaim her lands as best she could. Red tape and tradition now stood in her way, but she had recently gotten back a small stretch of land to manage on the coast. The reason behind it was vague coming from the griffon, but he surmised it was a test of sorts. He would have to look into local law to see what it was that was tying her up in legalities. Maybe he could help somewhere in there.

Reaching the wide staircase heading up the mountain, he couldn't help but laugh.

"You're like some fairytale fucking princess." He was still reeling at everything she had told him. "No way is that fair. Where in the hell is my crazy noble family looking for my ass?!" It was purely a joke considering his origins, not that any in his company knew much beyond his arrival from Stalliongrad years ago.

"Sir, I would ask you not to swear in the presence of the Lady." Gilda Broadwing barked at him.

"Can it fuck buck. Scream and I both know that's never going to happen. If Celestia can't make me stop, what makes you think you can?" The hen guard just glared angrily back at him.

"Wait," his friend had a very puzzled look on her face, "Orion, you sound as if you actually know the Princess."

It was his turn to grimace and turn away. They had been walking slowly up a mountain of stairs and had stopped at the first landing to take a break. From his vantage, he could see the rugged castle built high on the sheer cliff face. His legs were starting to hurt.

"Wait, you actually know the Princess?!" Scream exclaimed, shock on her face.

"Well... it's a really funny story. Heh, heh."

Screaming was having a difficult time processing what she was hearing. He, in the seven years they had only been writing, had met and yelled at a princess. No, not just any princess.

THE Princess.

"Wait, why were you even in front of the Princess to begin with?" That got her a sheepish explanation of what he had done on a certain fall afternoon in his school. Her own guard had stopped and just stared at him. How does one even beat someone else with another? It didn't seem possible.

It got even more bizarre when he recounted his punishment, and what had transpired on his second night in the town of Ponyville.

Grace Fairheart was more than a little in awe of him.

Her friend had gone from a nerdy, geeky geek that stayed largely indoors studying books when not working out, to a capable warrior that could take on a pair of timberwolves on his own in the span of a few years.

Her own guard's face mirrored her own. But there was grudging respect in her eyes.

Looking up to the number of stairs they had to traverse, she asked her friend if he had ever figured out how to teleport.

His response was not in their favor, sadly.

Gilda didn't know what to make of the stallion. Technically he was a colt but with that look, build, and if his tale is true, his talents placed him high and above the jackasses that sometimes visited from the pony nation.

When she was given her assignment that day, she had mentally prepared herself for a long and boring duty making sure Lady Fairheart would be safe.

Instead, she found herself enthralled with the tales of his exploits. He was certainly no unicorn she had ever heard of. She wanted to laugh when he spoke of using the chick of Blueblood as a weapon against the others.

She had met the arrogant stallion only once during a state visit assigned to him by his "Aunty".

The hatchling, as that was the only way to describe the pony, had been utterly insufferable to guard during his time there. Making impossible demands, and crying when those demands were not met.

The image conjured into her mind when his own offspring had hit him had been hilarious, and it was all she could do not to break discipline.

When the Lady's questions turned to what he had done down in the village of Ponyville, Gilda had been stunned but skeptical. Timberwolves were not found in Griffonia, but tales did carry across the land, usually between troops. The stories told of frightening, mindless creatures that berserked upon their prey, leaving homes in ruins and blood in their wake.

Those the pony forces had managed to engage had been extraordinarily difficult to put down. Equestrian troops chose to smother their savage enemy with magic and arrows till dead.

For this, Orion, to do so on his own showed two things if his statements were to be believed.

First and foremost, at his age, he was extremely lucky. His body, while developed as it was, was still young. The muscle needed for true strength had yet to be reached.

The second point was his ability to kill. He was barely a fledgling. Yet, he had determined to fight to the bitter end despite the odds against him.

Gilda had known ponies. Fought them and worked alongside them.

In her assessment, she found them to be lacking in commitment. They gave up far easier than any of her own people she had met. They relied too much on the organization of their betters and were often caught in daydreams. Or napping, as one unfortunate pony had discovered much too late just how bad an idea that was.

She shook her head. Those days were behind her now.

The Sergeant checked her gear at one landing halfway to their destination, thinking of what her King had told her that very morning.

"You. You are assigned to take my niece to the train station. Are you not?"

His weighted and somewhat gravelly voice always seemed to make her stand straighter. As if his words were meant to shore up the nest of her heart.

"Yes, my King. I was given my assignment yesterday evening and have made preparations." She replied swiftly. King Sigurd Bloodbeak was not a drake that liked wasting time on embellishments and long-winded explanations. Quick and to the point.

"Have you been informed of the contents of this mission?" He spoke softly.

"I have been informed that we are receiving a visitor. A pony visitor. A friend of her Ladyship from when she was still in Equestria."

Suspicions spoken in hushed voices in darkened corners of the castle said that the Equestrian Princess, Celestia, knew Lady Grace had been within her borders. Her very city. If those rumors were to be believed, then the mare had done nothing to inform Griffonia's King of that knowledge. That galled and left bitterness on the tongue of those who gave voice to those words.

"Yes…his name is Orion Falls." He said into the silence of his study, almost as if he had forgotten she was there. He shifted and fixed her with a stern look. "I am giving you additional instructions."

His golden-eyed gaze held her tighter than any chain. Those eyes had freed her too, so long ago. Now they were new shackles, comfortable ones.

"I await your orders, my King." She said solemnly.

"Watch him." A puzzled look must have crossed her face, for he chuckled before continuing. "I've had my Eyes and Ears on him for some time. Since his encounter with my agents the day Grace returned to us."

Gilda suppressed a shudder. The Eyes were little more than assassins. However, their ability to infiltrate societies around the world and remain discrete had given rise to a branch of Watchers.

Her singular encounter with them had left her alive. One of a handful to do so.

"His…journey through this world is an interesting one. He is not all he seems. Observe his interactions with my niece. Note what he says. And should he attempt anything untoward…." Her King left the end of that sentence unspoken, but it was as clear as the sky what he implied.

"It will be as you command, my King."

Watching and more importantly, listening, she was reminded of what her King had said about hidden natures.

As they climbed higher, she realized something with stark clarity.

In his tales, he painted himself as a bumbling fool. Someone only lucky or had happened to be pushed too far. His laughter was genuine, but the look on his face was not.

There was too much careful thought into what he said, as if he had planned for these questions and had already set up answers to inquiries he knew had been coming. The question was, what was he hiding? What details were left in the gloom of the forest floor of his history?

When her King had told her to be prepared to kill him, she had known what he had been implying. The more she listened and sifted through the information, she realized that he might very well be capable of killing her instead, with or without a weapon.

Should Gilda have had to go through with it, she would be able to buy the time needed for the castle garrison to fall on him like a hammer before he got close to her charge. However, she also knew that he was not going to be a danger. There was a respectful air about him, and despite the mask he wore, there was true affection in his gaze for Grace. Whether that affection was love was another matter entirely.

And he bore a strong moral code. A willingness to defend the weak. Despite his vulgarity, His Majesty would appreciate that honor within him.

Arriving at the castle proper, the portcullis was already raised.

In Equestria, he always had to wait for the guards to raise them. Here he was blessed to see that wouldn't be a problem, which was good, as his legs were currently threatening to go on strike on him.

"God, I wish I could fucking teleport!"

As they passed under them, he mused in a less agonized portion of his mind that it made sense for them to be up.

Most citizens here could fly competently. What was the point if potential foes could simply pop over the walls with a flap of the wings? If anything, leaving the portcullis up would provide a path of least resistance for a force looking to conserve their strength for the fight ahead.

Looking up, he could see arrow slits dotting the walls on either side of a large courtyard. Smart. The open gate would funnel enemy forces into the courtyard, only to quite literally be feathered before they could escape.

"Even if they managed to make it to the steps, archers deployed on top of the walls-" He shook his head back and forth. The hell was he doing? First of all, Never in his life had he ever considered the military advantages of an open anything. Much less castle warfare. Secondly, their brief and short jaunt through the city had shown him all he had needed to know about the possibility of an army of peasants rising up.

He frowned sadly.

The people Orion had seen were broken. Huddled in the shade of alleyways, begging for scraps. Fighting over those few scraps that could be found. He had spotted several children hiding in the darkness behind their parents.

His original thoughts on the state of Griffonstone were correct. The place was teeming with undirected violence and destitution.

They didn't have the strength to throw down their ruling class.

Likely the reason for the portcullis being up was simply easier for the guards to traverse past the walls themselves.

Two guards, in chainmail, swooped in to flank them as they made it past the guard checkpoint. Covering their mail, was a breast coat that came just shy of the plate mail knees. Red, with gold stitching of a fanciful heart, decorated the right breast.

"Fancy." He thought wryly.

His eye spotted Gilda slipping into a fortified door to the side.

Since stepping off the train, he had kept his radar tuned up so he could sense more than he could see.

After so many years with it, and its various incarnations before, he had learned to notice more than just the shapes around him.

Every look, every stop in adjusting her armor when he was speaking had been noted by him. She was more than a guard, and when she had tried to slide away unseen with the arrival of the other two, he had not been surprised.

Screaming had been no distraction for him. Despite the myriad of questions and reprimands she had directed at him, so he had been able to watch the guard carefully.

Their eyes met, and Gilda gave a start of surprise before closing the door behind herself.

"Well, there is nothing I can do about that." He lamented. Considering who his friend actually was, it wasn't really out of reason for them to be placing a watch of sorts on him.

Turning his attention back to the castle. He took it in.

From the city, it had looked rugged then. Now within its walls, he found that rugged simplicity somehow beautiful in its own right.

The fortress was just that. This was no castle to receive guests and display the grandeur of the kingdom. This was a place built entirely to wage war and survive a siege.

As they climbed up the many stairs, he saw that the structure was hewn from the rock and stone of the mountain itself. Its position on the face of the sheer cliff left little room for the average blockade a normal armed force would wage.

For one, there was only one real entrance into the fortress itself, that of the stairs they had traveled and the road paired with it. However, that was meant for carts and carriages and made a far more winding track up the mountain itself.

The outer walls were as sheer as the cliffs they were carved from, allowing for no real purchase other than the top. Archer slits dotted the surface in regular intervals. Vast banners of red and gold hung from the edges. The same emblem on the guard's breastplate was upon those banners, a heart with leaves draped about it stitched in gold.

Inside mirrored the same. Even the corridors were planned to be a death trap for any invading force. Choke points, grates above certain sections of intersecting halls. More archer slits, as well as holes in the wall he could only think, were meant for spear points to be rammed through.

Whoever had designed this castle, wanted any enemy ballsy enough to break in to pay for it every step of the way.

Stepping into the castle keep, he saw halls that went straight into the mountain itself as well. Their ends only lit by fire.

"Huh, more to this place than just the fortress…." He mused.

Braziers were lit and illuminated their path as they ascended stairs, moved down passages, and crossed an open courtyard that bore a rather beautiful indoor garden.

"Wow, never expected to see a garden here inside a castle like this." He murmured out loud.

"Queen Gabriele enjoys flowers greatly, and has worked very hard to maintain this courtyard as best she has." Said a voice to their left. He had known a griffon was there but had not expected an answer from them.

Turning, Orion found himself looking at a stork. Thin and in a black doublet with the house emblem stitched on his right breast, the bird-cat looked dry. As if all humor had been squeezed out of him.

He was certainly older than himself, though one could only see it from the way the eyes were set and the whitening of his bill.

Deciding not to be rude, Orion spoke. "Wait, the Queen herself does all the work in here?" He asked, surprised.

"Yes, Queen Gabriele is loath to let others touch this place." Even his smile was dry. "She once chased out the palace greenskeeper with a shovel." He chortled. "The hen had wanted to plant a tree within the southeast corner and had already started digging a hole when Her Majesty had wandered in to enjoy her efforts."

Screaming giggled. She had been strangely silent since their arrival inside the castle.

"Jesus, hope they got away. Being brained with a shovel freakin' hurts." He winced in sympathy.

When he was thirteen, he had been harassing Michael Thompson, a nerdy kid who was in his science class. Orion had been using the science class equipment in an attempt to make TNT, and Michael had ratted him out to the principal.

His suspension had gotten the usual disappointment that his grandparents directed toward him whenever he fucked up. In retaliation, he had gone after the nerd late in the afternoon when he had spotted him in his parent's yard.

What happened turned out to be very unfortunate for Orion.

The kid had done two things when he leaped the fence and charged Michael. First and foremost, he pissed himself. Secondly, he fell backwards, hitting the handle of a shovel on his way down. That piece of gardening equipment came around and smacked upside Orion's head, knocking him out cold.

Perhaps that had been karma trying to drive a point home. It could have been God protecting one of his own.

In either case, Michael soon spread the tale of how he had walloped him good. With the shovel mark still visible on his face the next day, he had become the target of mocking from students and adults alike.

It had taken two years before the shovel incident wasn't brought up daily.

"I am sure." The stork-cat said slowly. "In this case, the greenskeeper had managed only to make it as far as two halls before the Queen was upon her."

"Ouch." If she did that for a simple palace worker, he did not want to know what she would do to him.

"Note to self, don't fuck with the Queen. Like, at all." Clearing his throat, Orion changed the subject.

"Not to sound rude, but who are you, dude?" The question made stork blink owlishly before giving a start.

"I apologize, Mr. Falls. I am Eberhard Lonelycall." He swept a stiff bow. "You are Orion Falls, Lady Fairheart's guest, yes?"

"Uh, yeah. No need to be so formal around me." It was a surprise for him to feel embarrassed, but in truth, he was not used to the difference this griffon was displaying toward him.

Orion didn't like it.

"Nope, never become a noble of any type."

"As you wish, sir." Eberhard righted himself. "I should inform you I am also Lady Fairheart's Steward of her house's Diener."

"Um, what? The hell is a "Diener"?" Was that the title for a servant of sorts?

"Oh, forgive me. Servants." He sighed regretfully. "Sadly, at the moment, we only have two in her employ, but I hope to add to that number as her fortunes grow." The steward gave a small smile to Screaming.

"I told you, Mr. Lonelycall, I have no desire to have the same amount of land that my parents once had." There was a fair bit of sadness in that tone.

"And I told you, my Lady, that a few more servants do not equate to needing the vast territories your sire once held." The stork fidgeted with his doublet briefly before huffing. "Though you should be at least given the respect your position is due, not the scathing remarks of your rearing I've been hearing in the halls whenever Duchess-"

"We don't need to talk about that!" Screaming interrupted him quickly, but Orion's curiosity was plucked.

"Someone is talking shit about Screaming?" He had not realized how heated he had suddenly gotten, his voice heavy with malice.

"It's nothing!" She cried, but the black colt wasn't looking at her, his gaze fixed squarely on the unflappable visage of Eberhard.

"Yes. Lady Margarete Rosebreast. She currently holds a great deal of Lady Fairheart's land. Well, her sire's lands. I believe the reason for her attacks on her image is due in large part to keeping those holdings to herself." He finished quickly, all while delicately fending off his Lady's attempts to silence him.

"Shit." This is complicated. Orion's eyes darted back and forth as he thought.

"Are any others also in on this?" He asked slowly.

"No. Though Lady Rosebreast has made efforts to include at least three other houses in her attacks." He gave a thin-lipped smile.

That meant someone powerful was blocking the bitch's efforts.

"Wait. Why bother at all? Scream is a small fish in the pond. She's sticking to the reeds, isn't she?" The steward thought for a moment before nodding. "Then what is the point?"

"Ah, I can see that you are not aware of certain issues," Eberhard remarked softly.

"Dude, until this morning, I had no idea she was royalty. Spill." He folded his arms and waited.

His friend huffed loudly and marched over to a bench before plopping her rear down, glaring balefully at them.

"I will, but I do have a question. The word you have used twice now, "Dude," what is its meaning?" With his thin frame, Screaming's lead butler's neck cocking to one side made Orion wince internally. A neck was just not supposed to bend like that.

"Dude is slang. It…well, it kinda acts like a replacement for when I refer to someone, typically another male."

"Ah, very good. I shall not use it for myself, but I find it good to keep up with and understand trends. Both abroad as well as at home." He smiled. "Now, the reason for Lady Rosebreast's antagonism is rather simple for those aware of certain laws and history. You may wish to take a seat yourself. I fear this is not a short subject." He gestured to a set of iron patio furniture, complete with a parasol centered on the table.

Screaming was sulking with a teacup in hand. A servant had entered in silently and now stood behind her with a pitcher. On the table were two more teacups, filled with a steaming, deep black liquid. Orion sat himself down and took a sip. His eyes shot wide open in surprise. It was coffee. Really good coffee. How had they known? He pocketed the question for later pondering and gestured for Eberhard, who had taken a seat himself, to start.

Taking a drink for himself, the steward sighed. "It is not often I get to enjoy Tremika Coffee. So I thank you for coming to visit my Lady." He chuckled deeply.

"Now, this shall be a sensitive subject, I'm afraid, but I will endeavor to be delicate." He gave an apologetic look to Screaming, who had pulled up a chair of her own but had remained quiet till then.

"It's fine, Mr. Lonelycall. Orion actually loves this stuff. Go ahead." By the look on her face, it was not fine.

"A student of history? Excellent! It is not often I have such a willing audience." Turning back to Orion, he began. "I will start with our distant history, so you have an understanding of why this particular law was put into place. In our nation's rather tumultuous past, events often create laws to protect against certain incidents from reoccurring."

Orion simply nodded in agreement. That was how most laws were created, in hindsight.

"In this particular instance, during the years that rulership was divided in an institution much like the parliament you now have in Equestria, it was an attempt to keep assets from falling out of the families' hands."

"Huh, no king at the time?"

"No. The reasoning during that period had been that no one person should have that much power over others. In essence, the nobles banded together for security but did not trust one or the other to take the next step." His wings ruffled. "It was also the reason so much infighting happened. Without a king to stand as a mediator, many squabbles and supposed slights devolved into outright conflict. Even war." He paused to take a sip, murmuring more approval.

Orion had already drained his during the history lesson while his mind worked over the information. A thought struck him.

"I take it…that because of these constant fights, it was decided unanimously to call for a convention of sorts to elect a king after all."

The stork steward bobbed his head enthusiastically. "Yes! Yes! Very good, sir. But, it wasn't just the constant conflict. There were two other factors that played a major role in altering my nation's path. Can you guess what they are?" He asked excitedly.

Orion snorted. "My guy, you should have been a teacher or a historian." He thumbed his chin in thought.

"At one point in my life, I was both. Well, I suppose I am still a historian even in my role now." He clucked.

"No shit?" The steward's bill wrinkled a little bit. "Sorry. Mrs. Evergarden says I have a tongue like stone. Rough and out of place. Anyways, the one I'm positive about is Equestria must have formed around that time. The other…uhhhh…nope got nothing."

"You are mostly correct. Equestria was involved. More specifically, it was during the expansion of that nation that made the nobles halt their bickering and pay attention. The diarchy of the time proved that a singular source of authority and power were worthwhile considerations. They solved issues, settled disputes, acted quickly in the defense of their people."

"The benefits started outweighing the risks in their minds." That got another nod of approval. "What was the other? What other problem for you guys existed to alter history like that?"

"Why, the Empire of Crystal to the far north, of course." Eberhard cocked his head. "Your instructions cover the Empire?"

"Yes. But that was a brief one-week lesson. The birth of Crystagraphy actually started there. Most of my lessons covered their skills and history. They kind of disappeared almost fifteen hundred years ago or so though, and I never could find out why." He finished to a very surprised Mr. Lonelycall.

"It is true that they developed that particular branch of magic. I suppose ponies would not want their descendants to know…."

"Know what?" Orion asked, leaning forward.

"It was the true reason why Griffonia had decided to raise a monarch of their own. Equestria and the Empire of Crystal were at war with one another. A truly violent and bloody affair, the conclusion of which was the sudden disappearance of the northern nation itself." This was intriguing.

"Was there a reason for it? Or were they just beating the hell out of each other for the sake of it?"

"No, there was a reason. A grave accusation." Eberhard shook his head. "The Diarchy of Equestria accused Consort Sombra Darkstone of the crime of murder, and practicing Umbrian magics."

"Never heard of that."

"I suppose that might be wise of your Princess. The Umbrian cult was not a very distinguished group." He took another sip of his coffee and continued. "I'm afraid we have gotten far afield in our conversation. If you would like to know more, the keep's library has records on it."

"I think I'll do that. Now, about that law?" Orion was beginning to get Twilight vibes from the griffon. Though he was much more controlled.

"Ah, yes. My apologies. As to the law, it was common in the days before a king that certain nobles would attempt to capture or kill one another. A truly terrible time. Occasionally, an entire bloodline would be erased through murder and intrigue. Their lands would be absorbed into the others, their wealth distributed." He smiled ruefully. "And sometimes, a once thought dead noble, would resurface."

The colt was starting to get the picture. "Creating a very nasty complication." He frowned. "But let's be real, what would it matter? All their stuff has been taken at that point. There is no leverage for them to get their land and titles back."

"This is true, and for a time, they were happy with that." Eberhard raised a finger and leaned forward. "Till they weren't. Lord Otto Stoutbeak realized it could very well happen to him, and decided that just wouldn't do." He chortled to himself.

"Of course, the rich and influential are just covering their asses." He groaned in response.

"Yes indeed." Settling himself, the steward fixed him with an appraising look. "You have a keen understanding of the path of history. I'm impressed."

"Don't be. It's mostly my understanding of a few key similarities everyone seems to have. Selfishness, greed, and hunger for power." Orion replied.

"Very true. Chief among those is greed. To continue, Lord Stoutbeak, worried for his own wealth and influence, approached others of his rank and convinced them of the danger. Records are incomplete of that time, but it is supposed there were rumors of an attempt on his own life that was coming."

"And the law they came up with?"

"The law, The Otto Accords, is a series of laws meant to protect a noble from the loss of their possessions and holdings. In essence, should a noble or their family disappear in either assassination or some other unfortunate event, the nearest kin must be sought out. If no relative is found, then the process of transfer is begun." He gestured to Screaming for the first time since this conversation began. "In the Lady's case, one of the provisions in the Accords is that a time of no more than fifteen to twenty-five years shall be allowed to find a relative."

"Holy hell…Wait, why is Rosebreast in control of her property? It's not even been fifteen years. Shouldn’t she have had her lands returned to her by now?"

"Another law within the Accords, I'm afraid. During the time when a land is not claimed, an Attendant of the Land is elected to manage the territory. They also contribute a large sum of their own to maintaining it. Should no heir be found, the land will go to the Attendant." He shrugged uncomfortably. "There is another issue. If that heir, is found incompetent, they are subject to the Forfeiture of Land clause."

"That's why that bitch is slandering her. To keep a hold of the land for herself." Orion concluded, biting his cheek in thought. "What would be the reason she would want to fight so hard to keep it?"

"Ah, now we have gotten to the crux of the matter. The reason Lady Rosebreast is so keen on keeping the land is that it places her fourth in line for the throne. If she were to lose it, she would fall back to the eighth position."

"Ranking is based on the size of the land?" He asked incredulously.

"No, on what is in the land. In this case, Lady Fairheart's family land covers the coast, leading from the capital to the northeasternmost edge. Roughly. It is wealthy and seeded with natural resources. But it is undeveloped. It has remained so during Lady Rosebreast's Attendantancy, as she could not put forth the coin to improve or develop the resources into something to gain." His eyes narrowed. "However, she has expended a great deal of wealth in surveying the territory. She is making plans…."

In the lull of the moment, while Eberhard settled himself and drinks were refilled, Orion thought out the issue. His eyes widened.

"This isn't just about land, is it? Whose before her in the line for succession?" He asked.

A hard look washed over the steward's features. It seemed the griffon servant had already concluded what the colt had suspected. "After King Fairheart is his wife, Queen Gabriele Fairheart, then their only son, Prince Gerhard Fairheart."

"Shit. She's planning a murder if she can get away with it, isn’t she? But first, she has to remove Scream from the equation, and rather than set a precedent, the bitch is trying to get her dismissed entirely without bloodshed." Screaming's face was downcast.

She hadn't wanted him to know. That's why she had made a fuss at first. But something wasn't adding up.

"You led us into this conversation. Why?"

Orion watched as the steward and Lady shared a look before Eberhard turned to him and spoke.

"Because your presence creates a complication, Mr. Falls. If she is seen being favored by anyone from Equestria, that will make her less capable in the eyes of griffon nobility. You may already know this, but your kind is not well favored here in Griffonia. Many see your nation as the source of a great many issues."

"But I'm just an orphan." He retorted with a grimace. "The hell does my being here matter?"

"It won't matter." Screaming finally spoke up. "Lady Rosebreast has already raised a fit over the fact that I messaged anyone from Equestria at all." She took a breath. "The land is mine. I even have the right to move through it without challenge. Do what I can to improve the lives there if I am able. But she is still the Attendant. Until a tribunal rules who claims it, we are both stuck with our claws in it, waiting for the other to flinch."

"So telling me…."

"Is informing you of the mire you have placed yourself in." Eberhard resumed. "It will help greatly if some of the claims the Lady has made about you prove true." He smirked. "Is it true that you eat meat like a griffon?"

Orion laughed. "Yeah, and she has told me all about the various meat dishes available here." He grinned. "You have a brisket I am dying to try."

As the conversation turned to lighter things, the man turned colt could not help but consider the political hellscape he had wandered into.

The plan to sell ideas to a merchant was no longer feasible. Anything he did would be noticed immediately, and with Screaming's current standing within her own kingdom, it might even be detrimental in the long run.

There had to be another way.

It was mid-afternoon before Eberhard found himself without the surprisingly pleasant, if a little rough, company of Mr. Falls.

From the Eyes and Ears reports, he had painted the colt in his mind as a rather disagreeable fellow. To see that his and the Listener's assumptions were wrong was one thing he was glad of.

He chuckled. The King had been correct, and they were all fools for watching his actions too closely.

Orion Falls's ability to quickly grasp what he had stumbled into was also to be noted. Somehow, and for whatever reason, the colt had immediately picked up on the tension within the kingdom. Even going so far as to correctly assume that Lady Rosebreast may be planning an assassination.

The Duchess was, in fact, planning such an event according to reports that could be gathered. However, they knew not what manner or when just yet. The fact that she had a good reason, though grossly selfish in its conception, to push for regime change so violently was also understood, even if he thought it misguided.

King Sigurd Fairheart's ruling line had been disastrous for the griffon kingdom for centuries. Only Sigurd himself has shown any promise, as the stalwart monarch has worked furiously to right the winds of the failing nation.

With the history of his line as an example, Lady Rosebreast has driven a wedge between the King and the rest of the ruling class. Hosting parties and balls, seeding doubts about his leadership and the next in line for the throne capability. In recent years, she had redoubled her efforts to swat the nobility in her favor when Lady Grace Fairheart returned to them.

With the arrival of Eberhard's charge, the hen now felt threatened. If she were to lose the wealth she was sitting on now, her push for ruling the nation herself would be for naught as her position would slide back, and she would no longer be a viable candidate for succession.

Informing Mr. Falls was only a means to ensure he at least attempts to maintain good behavior during his visit.

He sighed. The old griffon missed the days when he was young and could bury himself in the pages of history. Those days were sadly behind him.

"Master Listener."

Eberhard Lonelycall nearly soared out of his own feathers. Turning quickly, he scowled at the lone griffon hen dressed in the black of her division. Eyes were capable of being discrete and clever, but for whatever reason, incapable of keeping their beaks shut within the open halls of the castle with a Listener present.

"Yes, Eye." He hissed vexedly. The Eyes' names are cast away during their service. To protect their family as well as themselves.

"His Majesty requires your presence." He grunted. Eberhard had expected this, and with how quickly the Eye had approached him, the King may have been waiting. That just wouldn't do.

"I hear and see. You are dismissed, Eye." Formally dismissing the agent, he moved down the hall quickly.

It didn't take him long before he arrived at the King's royal study. By now, the iron-bound door of dark heavy wood was a familiar sight, and he pushed it open without knocking.

A Listener need not knock, even with the King.

"Your Majesty." He said solemnly, closing the door and making a small bow.

Sigurd Fairheart turned and regarded the agent. He was not a small griffon, nor was he a towering mass of muscles. The monarch was still an intimidating presence to those who erred against him. Even those closest found his bluff features unnerving rather than comforting. However, that has never been his intention.

Heavy the burdens have been that weighed on the golden brown brow and shoulders of his Lordship. Eberhard and his fellowship have worked nearly as tirelessly to reduce the pressure as much as possible.

"Report, if you would please, Listener." His beak quirked into a small smile. They had known each other since they were hatchlings, and Sigurd always enjoyed tweaking his old friend's bill as much as possible.

No one would expect the rough-looking monarch to have such humor.

"It is as you expected, old friend."

He spoke simply, standing to his full height and walking to peer out the window. The window faced west toward where Prince Gerhard was engaging with a small force against bandits who had taken advantage of the kingdom's reduced capacity for their own defense.

"Oh?" Sigurd cocked an eyebrow.

"Yes, you were right. He is far more than just some brute with good grades. I am truly surprised the ponies produced someone like him, considering their pension for weaker-willed males." Eberhard said dryly.

"It's not so much a desire for them to be weaker, it is more of a necessity to protect what they have. Pampered stallions are merely a result of their policy for preservation." His Majesty turned his gaze back to the window. "Well?"

The Listener knew what he meant. And he began to recount what he had learned and seen to his ruler.

To his friend.

"It is as much as I expected then." He said, nodding his head in consideration. "Between you and Gilda, I feel I have an accurate picture of the drake."

Eberhard cocked his head.

"Drake, my Lord? Him?"

Sigurd chuckled and stepped around his desk to sit down. "Oh yes, anyone that can kill a Timberwolf on his own and fend off another through sheer intimidation is a drake to me." He shook his head. "I had encountered one of those filthy creatures years ago when one found its way over the mountains somehow. Fought like a cornered manticore, but worse. Tore through a fair amount of my troops before we managed to pin it down and destroy it."

"It could have been luck, your Grace." That is what the Listener said, but he had a contemplative look upon his beak.

"I'm sure a fair bit of that was indeed luck. But tell me, do you know of a griffon capable of punching with enough force to break into a ribcage?" The King leaned forward, snatching a goblet of spice wine that had long lost the warmth it had been poured with.

"Only two. One is you yourself." He paused. "I see your point, your Highness. What are your orders, sire."

Sigurd Bloodbeak Fairheart contemplated that for a moment. If he received the colt in the Hall of Battles, it would be seen by the nobles as him bending his knee to that fop Celestia. Even if Orion had never encountered the mare, it would still be observed as a weakness. And this fool was a friend to her student.

If he ignored him and let him run about his palace without so much as a glance, it would be much the same. Too many spies were in the employ of other houses.

The simple and direct way would be to meet him here. No honor coming to his study, and no one to overhear their conversation.

"Instruct a servant you trust to call him here. Too many suspect your position as it is, so I would rather it be someone else seen calling on him."

Eberhard nodded in agreement. "That may be wise, sire. If some Eyes and Ears learned to have tighter beaks, maybe this wouldn't be an issue." He muttered that last almost under his breath which drew a bark of laughter from him.

"Not like it was back in your day, sadly. They are young yet. They shall learn, my friend." He stilled his humor. "See it done. I want to see him tonight."

"As you will it, your Majesty." The Watcher gave a quick bow and left, leaving Sigurd to consider how he was to deal with the pony complication that his niece brought to his nest.

No one had believed the colt would have taken her up on the offer. Even with Grace going so far as to pay for his journey herself, did the idea of Orion Falls coming to Griffonia have ever been a possibility in the minds of himself or his staff.

Just what trouble would he get into while here?

"Okay, bored now." Orion tossed the book of notes he had brought with him onto the bed in frustration.

Screaming had to leave him after he had been shown to his room. The poor griffoness had duties now, though she was vague about what.

This is what he got for arriving without giving her a heads up. He turned and looked out the single window in his room. The city below stretched before him. At this height, no one could see the destitution that packed the alleyways, spilling out onto the streets in various places as shanty towns.

The notes called to him again. On the way up on the train, he had read and reread those pages till he had them practically memorized.

One of the first things he noted was that the nation of Griffonia didn't have any kind of long-term preservation of food available. No grain silos. No cold vaults or ice distribution systems to keep meat cold for long periods of time. The nation spent gold shipping in food year-round at a deficit.

Orion's original plan had been to sell the ideas for food keeping, along with a bunch of other things more aligned with factory production, to a merchant that may best make use of it. He was going to make a pretty bit on the deal and then turn around and donate it to a local charity here in Griffonia.

The current state of the kingdom made that impossible. His brief and gentle probing at Eberhard Lonelycall about the mercantile business turned up very bleak prospects. Most of the merchants in the nation had been co-opted by the government into emergency goods distribution.

This little experiment in nation-building was dead before he even left Equestria. Unless he changed the rules, he tapped his lips with a finger in thought.

A knock at the door brought him from his thoughts, the satchel, and book of notes flying in his magic to him.

"Yeah?" Not the most sophisticated of greetings.

"His Majesty, King Sigurd Fairheart has called to meet you." A lilting feminine voice spoke from the other side of the door. One thing he had expected since finding out just who Screaming really was. Though maybe not this soon.

Stuffing the book inside and slinging the satchel over his shoulder, Orion was not about to part with something that would damn him. He pulled the door open and was met with air.

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry, sir, down here!" Came the same voice, only slightly squeaky. Looking down, he spotted the most adorable sight.

There, before him, was a griffon hen in a maid outfit. A tiny griffon hen, she barely passed his waist. She stared up at him with wide green eyes.

"They said that you were tall…." She murmured.

He wanted to crack a joke about "perfect heights" and "handlebars," but he refrained. Those feathers that were bunched into the facsimile of pigtails on her head just made the brown and gold griffon even more adorable.

"I eat my veggies." Is all he said.

"I'm sure. Listen, this is my second day, and I don't wanna get fired. The King has called for your attendance. I'd hop too if I were you. A guard awaits you at the entrance to the resident quarters." The maid huffed and stalked off. Tiny tail lashing in agitation.

"The hell was that about?" He laughed.

Walking down the hall in the direction Miss Huffy went, his hand drifted to his satchel. Weariness washed over him as he realized, with sinking clarity that he would have to goad another monarch just to see how they would react. He hoped feverishly that this one couldn't turn into a sun.

"You will speak only when spoken to." Came the droning voice of his escort as they made their way together into the royal wing of the castle.

He had not stopped giving instructions since they headed off to see the King.

"If he rises, you will stand straighter. If his gaze leaves you, spread your fingers and raise your hands slightly." He continued, his helmet muffling his voice. "Do not raise your voice to his Majesty. Do-"

"Yeah, yeah. "Don't move quickly when gesturing". Blah blah blah." The soldier's head turned sharply at him. "Dude, I'm not an assassin. Shut up already."

Turning quickly, the guard made to grab him, and he flowed out of his reach, then around the griffon entirely.

"Listen, featherbrain, I don't care enough about your country to even meet your reigning king. Much less attempt to kill him. You've patted me down six times, and the only thing I have on me that might be a weapon is my horn. I do not like the idea of getting blood on my face. Let's just get this over with so I can go back to figuring out something to do while I stay here."

He really should get a handle on his anger.

The soldier's clawed hand on the spear they carried tightened as he shook visibly.

Suddenly, he relaxed with a slight huff and marched past him. Stopping in front of a simple iron-bound door of darkened wood.

"Christ, Orion, you could have just kept your temper for five more seconds." He groaned inwardly.

His unnamed escort made a loud, but somehow respectful knock with his fist.

"COME." Barked a low voice. The echo of it seemed to carry down the halls. He swallowed hard. Maybe it wouldn't be a good idea to piss this one off.

"Enter." The guard said, his voice strained. "Remember, respect."

Orion squared his shoulders and marched in behind the griffon who had brought him here.