The King of Griffonia was, and was not, what he had expected.

When Orion first entered the mostly lit room, he noted with surprise just how cluttered the chamber was. Every inch of the walls was covered in maps and shelves stuffed full of various items ranging from knick-knacks to important-looking files. Where there were no adornments covering the stone, bookshelves, and cabinets in many styles stood in place. The former having more than one book missing.

Even the floor space had several small tables piled high with documents. Books were being used as paperweights to hold down ledgers and loose papers.

This was the office of a harried griffon.

There was a large bay window, the sun from the west pouring in as the day had begun to come to a close.

All but two pieces of furniture seemed to come from different craftsgriffon, those two were made from a wood so dark as to be almost black in appearance. If not for the oil lamp on the table, it would have appeared to be the case. Not only was the wood darker in hue than everything else, but both were so gothic in design as to be depressing to look at.

Like every other flat surface in the room, the desk had stacks of files and paperwork on top, with a small space left open for someone to sit down and write.

"Jesus, I wonder if this guy even has a chance to sleep."

As he continued to take in his surroundings, that same deep voice that bade them enter, spoke from a corner in the room.

"Good evening, Orion Falls. Getting a good look for your Princess?"

Orion's eyes locked immediately onto the griffon who had stood purposely in the darkest corner of the room. He knew he was there, thanks to the radar, but didn't want to ruin the old bird's fun by pointing it out too soon.

Not to mention raising his suspicions about himself more than they already were if Gilda was any indication of his standing with the bird-cat.

"Had to look at something while you stood in the corner like an edgelord." He retorted, which got a hiss of annoyance from the guard behind him, and his own mind telling him to shut the hell up.

The King just cocked his head, the darkness hiding his expression.

"You may leave us, Stoick. I would speak to Mr. Falls, alone." His voice was soft for the depth of it. But those golden eyes were as hard as Forager's anvil and carried the weight his station had given him.

"But, sire-"

"I will be fine. This colt is no assassin sent to murder me, even that Princess is not so cruel as to use a fledgling as an instrument of death. You are dismissed."

With grumbling, the guard Stoick saw his way out. The King chuckled with amusement.

"Considering your sudden arrival, and…tensions within my court, I can't fault him for his concern." Moving from the shadows, Orion was surprised by how short he actually was, coming only up to his throat.

Was he destined to be a giant amongst all but the lone Alicorn? Because at the rate he was growing, he would soon stand tall over earth ponies as well.

"No need to mention that to me." He muttered. He hadn't even had a chance to form a plan on how to deal with the monarch on his way to the griffon’s private study. "Let him talk, and listen. Don't open your dumbass mouth too often." He chastised himself. If he kept a level head and paid attention, he should be okay. Hopefully.

The griffon paused and nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose you are right about that. I'm sure your Princess may want to know anyhow."

He ground his teeth. Why in the hell did he keep making inferences about his relationship with Celestia? What was the point?

"If you think I'm some type of royal half-assed spy, you should be sending me right on back. Not let me put up my books and clothes, which are no doubt being searched right now." He said in a calmer tone than he felt.

"They are," Bloodbeak said brightly, a small smile bending his beak. He now stood in the failing sunlight of the western sun, seeming to look for something.

While he didn’t have a height advantage on the pony, the old bird was built much wider than he. The griffon king resembled a golden eagle dressed in a black doublet and pants much as Eberhard's had been. The difference here was it was much more ornate, with gold stitching tracing heartleaves up and down his sleeves. The edges were also trimmed in gold.

It was clean and pressed, but frayed ends here and there spoke to the fact that it had seen better days, suffering a life of long use under the King’s service.

The man himself was built like a brick wall, blunt face, the scars decorating his left cheek he could see barely visible in the soft downy feathers there, made him all the more intimidating.

It was clear that this was not a ruler to stand idly by. It would be important to note that he was very likely not some foppish royal stuck up their own ass.

"Well, you called me here. What would you like to discuss?" He kept reminding himself to keep it civil. Too bad he couldn't make a loop in his head to keep saying it, but that may just drive him mad.

Instead of answering, King Fairheart merely nodded and turned to walk into one of the cluttered tables and opened a tome.

Orion blinked in surprise, there was an abnormal amount of gray streaking his beak that he hadn't seen when the griffon had been looking dead at him.

"I was led to believe you knew how to greet royalty, Mr. Falls." He flipped a page with a single claw.

"I do, much as I dislike doing so. But you didn't call me into a hall for receiving. Nor is there anyone else here but us." He cocked an eyebrow. "That says to me you don't care for it, or are too busy for the pleasantries. Otherwise, you would have made the demand the moment I entered."

The smile returned. "I suppose that is true. But does the Princess allow you to do that?"

Orion was getting real tired of Celestia's continued name-drop. "He's trying to put you off. Think!" He wasn't sure how to answer that and knew he didn't have a lot of time to consider a response.

"Honestly, she's often…" he smirked, "she's often way too busy yelling at me for some such dumbass thing I've done." He allowed the smirk to turn into a grin. "There is the threat of tossing me into a dungeon. Hell, one time I even asked for that option, she denied me."

For the first time since meeting the ruler of Griffonia, he got a look of surprise. "I…see." He turned back to the book and flipped to another page. From Orion's angle, he couldn't tell what it said but had a sneaky suspicion that it was about him.

"My niece had told me you were taller than her back when she still lived among you ponies. She had not mentioned that you had grown to dwarf many of your own kind. Unicorns are not typically large people."

"I'm sorry I neglected to give her my measurements in each letter we exchanged." He snarked back, then bit his tongue in vexation. He was supposed to keep his cool. What is wrong with him?

"It's fine. Still, nineteen and a quarter claw tall is impressive for your race." He paused, giving him a look. "Earth ponies do get taller. Perhaps you have earth pony blood within you?"

"That would be a question you would have to direct toward the folks who took my blood samples." He replied simply. Meanwhile, his mind raced with questions of his own. Chief amongst those was why he was here.

The griffon King's smile grew. "I have, in a way. It is remarkable to find that the reports only speak of two strains. One is the unicorn you appear to be, the other, however, is a complete mystery. No one knows what the other half of you actually is." He chuckled. "So, I suppose my question about your heritage is moot at this point. By all accounts not even you know." That last was just the hint of an inquiry.

Orion's blood chilled. How did he possibly know all of that?! How had he gotten his grubby claws on any of that information? Worse yet, how much did he know about him?

Spies of course. Very good spies if they managed to infiltrate Canterlot itself.

When he didn't say anything, the monarch nodded and continued. "It's said you eat meat. That you actually require it to maintain a healthy life. Is this true?"

He bit the inside of his cheek before answering. It was not secret at this point, so why was he so hesitant to answer the monarch?

"Yeah. I get by on fish, and the occasional shrimp dish when it's available. But that's it." Seemed a harmless question. But he was unsure of himself with the griffon. He was not hot-headed like many of his species Orion had encountered. Cool, and calculated, his questions and statements were probing for something.

"May I see them?"

"Huh?"

"Your teeth, Mr. Falls."

"Oh uh…yeah, sure. Why not." He stepped forward and opened his mouth. He didn't even see it coming. Like a coiled snake, King Fairheart's claw shot out and gripped his jaw, twisting his head for a better angle.

Orion's horn blazed to life just before the griffon reached him, and several objects of sharpness rose to hover around the monarch.

"It appears to be true." He commented almost dryly as if the sword from the wall behind him was not hovering over his neck dangerously close. "You would strike a king?"

He simply glared at him, not trusting himself with an attempt to answer with the claws buried into his fur as they were. His grip was strong.

"Fair enough." The King said simply, letting him go, and turning back to the book before him as if nothing happened.

He worked his jaw as the weapons he had snatched up slid back into their places.

Orion was loathed to admit it, but he was now terrified. It wasn't his actions, but rather the reasoning behind them. He knew that anything the griffon did would be met only with a threat, and nothing else. Not to mention he had finally managed to goad a real reaction out of him, and his mouth decided it was time to attack.

"You sneaky sonavab-"

"I have heard rumors of you." He interrupted him. "Rumors that I have looked into." He fixed him with a golden eye. "The meat-eating rumor I did not quite believe at first." He chuckled.

He did not trust himself to speak, his traitorous tongue wanted to curse him, and his body wanted to jump the bird and beat him senseless. But something, a small and quiet voice, told him it wouldn't be the guards he would have to fend off.

"How in the fuck is he so fast?!"

"You were discovered in Stalliongrad. No history. No family to discover." He flipped a page and drew a single claw to a passage in the book. "The pony agency, Wings For Foals, found you in a dead-end alley eating a raw rat." He cocked an eyebrow.

"I hadn't eaten in nearly a week," Orion spoke through clenched teeth.

"That would make one desperate." He nodded and flipped to another page. "Once your rescue was completed, you were sent to Manehattan in Equestria. To the orphanage there, Manehattan's Home for Wayward Foals." He eyed him again. "There you got into more than a few altercations with fledglings your own age, and one teacher. The last point of conflict resulted in the hospitalization of two colts and bed rest for a third. Unusual for a colt to be so aggressive, but given your already tumultuous history, it's not unexpected I suppose."

He knew. The sonvabitch knew what had almost happened to him in that city. The details had been obscured by the WFF at the behest of the local government. Even Celestia hadn't gotten much more than that. Except, now he was wondering if she did. If so, how much did she know? And how much did this puffed-up ball of feathers know on his own?

"Another thing I have noted. Despite your history, you had impeccable grade scores in class despite your original troubles at adjusting to the curriculum." He flipped a page. "Even going beyond some of the knowledge your instructors held." His head turned and gave him an appraising look, nodded, and flipped another page as he looked back down at what was essentially an abridged version of his life. "After your final conflict, you were moved in the dead of night to Canterlot. Records are spotty on how, but it is believed you went by carriage."

King Sigurd Bloodbeak Fairheart was easily becoming far more terrifying than Celestia ever could be. Even with her ability to reduce a given area to ash, at least she was warm and friendly for the most part. This King's statements were not. They were threats, each and every single one thus far being spoken without his rebuttal. They screamed: "I know all about you. Everything that you've ever done, ever said. All of it. I know who you are."

His throat was too dry to speak, his back awash with sweat.

Bloodbeak's eyes seemed to dissect him where he stood as he went on.

"In Canterlot, you continued to outperform your age group. In all but magic, it seems. There it was discovered how much of a handicap you had. It was recorded in logs that you might have some type of thaumic gland problem. If not for the fact that you were in an orphanage under the Throne’s purview you would have likely been removed for lack of talent." He smirked. "A few years later, you proved that action would have been an egregious mistake as you suddenly shot to the class." He flipped a page. "Your first encounter with Princess Celestia was a class trip, in which you were pulled aside for an unknown subject. However, we have been able to infer that it was in the efforts of becoming friends with her student." He chortled. "Her ineptitude to form bonds is quite amusing I have never seen an individual like her."

"She doesn't trust people. Shut your mouth about shit you can only speculate on." The surprised look he received from the monarch said he had not spoken that in his head. He firmed his expression of anger.

"I will take that…under advisement. Pleasant to see you have loyalty." King Bloodbeak said dryly before focusing back on the retelling of his life. "As it is, over the years, you have had a few interactions with the monarch. One that involved receiving punishment."

"Blueballs and his brat had it coming." He defended before the griffon could go on.

A full smile blossomed on the monarch's face. "In this, I agree with you wholeheartedly. Blueblood's prodding of his colt into attacking you at school over your needs was far out of line." He laughed. "I cannot tell you how many of us here got a flap out of that incident."

Well, at least there was one point in his favor.

Settling himself, the older griffon went on.

"The punishment you received was the best outcome for you considering who you struck. Being assaulted you were entirely justified in your defense, but that did not mean you could not have suffered unfair treatment. Managing to get that…Princess to admit she might be wrong was something I had never heard of in all my years. The mare is never wrong. Almost." He smirked and flipped a page. “I hear that the meeting was rather hot, regardless of who was correct.”

"Your assignment in Ponyville was an interesting choice, but what was far more interesting was what happened down there. Actually two things." He turned from the book fully and looked at him again, from head to hoof. "Yes, I can see how you just might be able to kill a Timberwolf. An impressive feat for your age, and more so on your own, but perhaps that explosive rise to power was what even the edge."

"You said two things." His voice cracked alarmingly. His throat was dry, dry.

"I did." His smile morphed into a grin. Griffons had weird little teeth that were actually a part of the bill itself. His grin was a terrifying visage. "Your advanced understanding of science is rather surprising considering ponies are known for relying on magic alone."

"Okay, bullshit. How in the hell do you know about that?!" He growled, taking a step toward the griffon.

"My country has its ways of finding out information that the Princess sorely wishes hers did." And he simply left it at that.

"Let's cut this short shall we?!" Orion spat. "After Ponyville I returned to the capital and resumed my classes. Got into a little issue when trying to send a letter to your niece, and then decided to come here for the summer. Are we done with the tale of my life?!"

"Ah, yes. I suppose we are.” He somehow seemed to be the more put-out one. “However, I shall ask. Your first letter this year, spoke as if you would not be able to come. Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Look into a crystal ball for a reason. I just knew I was going to be exceedingly bored this summer. So I figured why not make the best of it."

"So you are using my niece for your own entertainment then?" His face darkened.

"Fuck. No. She's my friend, and believe it or not, I actually felt bad about putting her off every year. Not that I was likely to get permission to come considering how old I am, but that didn’t make me feel any better having to tell her no." He clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes bulging as he realized he had just admitted to leaving the city without permission.

"You are not supposed to be up here, are you?" The monarch's head cocked to one side, amusement on his face.

Orion took a deep breath, then sighed heavily. "No…I left a note. But I left before Mrs. Evergarden woke up." The way this griffon had dug through his life, it was no doubt he would know that bit soon enough.

"Do you believe that was wise?"

"Better to do, and ask for forgiveness, than ask, and not be able to do at all." He mumbled back sullenly.

The King nodded with a smile returning to his beak. "I suppose that is very true." He closed the book with a snap. "Now," he said cheerily, "what are your intentions for my niece?"

The tone, manner, and posture came out of left field and smacked him in the brain.

"Huh?"

"Do not "huh" me young drake. What are your intentions for my niece?" He said a little more forcefully.

"Intentions…with…" He said slowly before a ding in his head went off with almost a physical peal. The monarch’s cheery turn of disposition was fake as hell. If he wasn’t planning on threatening to kill him before, he was now. Orion was on eggshells. "Now he wants to play daddy." He groaned inwardly.

"Sir,” The man turned pony said with all the solemnity he could muster, “my intention with Screaming is just to hang out. I haven't seen her in years and I miss having her around."

"You do not seek a marriage?" The colt could only blink owlishly, more than a little fright in his eyes. "I see, perhaps not. Given that you had no idea she was my niece I suppose you had made no plans for a proposal. Though you are a pony." He mused, tapping his bill with a claw. "Are you waiting for her to make the proposal instead?"

"No!" He fairly shouted. What was going on here? "We are just friends!"

"Hmm." Was all the King said, and Orion's blood ran cold.

The "hmm" implied that Screaming might not feel the same way as he does. "Oh shit, please don't tell me…."

"Listen, I don't want to marry anyone. Okay? No one." He paused. That was too hasty a statement. Eventually, he may want to settle down with someone at some point, just not in at least the next ten years. "At least not right away. The world is crazy huge and I wanna see it. So no wedding bells for me thank you."

King Fairheart nodded thoughtfully. "I can accept that. So how long will you be remaining within my borders?"

"Couple of months, maybe to the end of summer. If you're worried about paying for me, I have my own coin to handle any purchases I make."

The griffon nodded.

"Excellent." He tapped a claw to the bottom of his beak again. Was that a cultural thing? He had seen a few do that. "Considering your studious nature, I can assume you wish to have access to the library here in the castle?"

Orion hadn't thought of that. Access to the local records might throw up an idea of what he could do with all the notes and ideas he had brought with him. Trying to go directly through the King was likely a mistake that would land him somewhere unpleasant.

Perhaps he could fund small groups of settlers to go out and begin recovering lost settlements out in the wilds. It seemed to work for Freidrich and his fellow refugees.

"Yeah, I'd think I would like that. Is Gilda going to be my shadow for the entire time?" The question was more a prod of his own. To show he wasn't blind at the very least.

"No." King Fairheart spoke evenly. "She is my niece's personal guard after all."

He should have expected that. The bird was unflappable.

"Anything else, your Highness?" He glanced around the room again. Now noticing a fair few ledgers with a lot of red in them open on a few tables. "Yikes! Just how bad off are they? That’s a lot of numbers in the negative."

"At this time, no. Stay out of trouble, respect the laws of my land, and more importantly," he leaned forward menacingly, "treat my niece with the care she deserves."

"You got it, boss. Later." Orion gave a half-assed salute as he headed for the door quickly. He was done being the King of Griffonia’s punching bag.

"No bow?" Came an amused reply.

"You asking?" He cocked an eyebrow, hand on the nob.

All he got was a snort of amusement in response. So the black colt shrugged and opened the door and left.

Sigurd couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled with him once he was certain Orion Falls had put enough distance between himself and the old griffon’s study. The temerity of that drake was incredible.

"How had the ponies produced someone like him?" He said into the stillness of his study, odd that he would repeat his Listener’s words.

"What was that, sire?" Came Eberhard's question from behind a false bookshelf.

The bookshelf had a small alcove behind it with a single chair. The alcove and the back of the shelf were constructed with nullstone. Preventing any magic from being cast to detect something unusual. Such as a life presence spell. The construction of that little addition had nearly bankrupted his father, but it was a wise precaution in his opinion.

The idea was to keep Celestia, or one of her stooges, from simply killing a royal without notice. There was always a guard stationed within, though never officially recorded in any roster so that any murder that may happen will still be exposed by a witness.

Today, as a last-minute thought, he had his Listener stashed away to observe instead of a less discerning guard. To glean what they could from his meeting with the rather angsty pony.

"Apologies Eber, I was simply remarking on our new friend's boldness." He replied as he watched his friend push aside the bookcase.

"Ah, yes. I am quite surprised you treated him so well. Considering what nearly happened."

Sigurd could only grin. He had needed to get the measure of the pony that his niece found so appealing. Though he hadn't quite expected such a violent reaction to his provocation. Rather than pull away and risk being clawed, he had summoned various sharp implements to serve as weapons, and even the monarch’s own sword, poised to strike him down.

The King would have let go the moment he felt him pull away, of course. But Orion had not known of that.

"You gamble too much, my King. That was reckless." Eberhard kindly admonished

"It was. Had that pony really been what the Eyes and Ears had originally thought, I would be a dead griffon." They both chuckled.

Eyes and Ears were to infiltrate and observe. They were not trained to make conjectures only to act, yet that hadn't stopped the small spy community from making guesses based on what they had gathered. Orion had proven far more aggressive than anyone could have suspected, yet he had maintained control of himself.

The Listeners, their overseers, and planners had been more tempered in their examinations of the reports.

On the face of it, Orion Falls was a hooligan by most accounts. Until you peeked a little deeper. If anyone did they would find a complex, and often contradictory, creature that would leap head-first into danger.

"Still, he isn't here for a vacation whatever he says, your Highness." Sigurd nodded. It was clear he wanted something from Griffonia. The what would be impossible to pin down at this point in time. Only careful observation would reveal his end goal.

"Was there anything of interest in his bags?" He asked.

"Oh, yes. I believe the item of most import, however, is that bag he carried in here with him. I do believe I can make an accurate guess in the direction his path will take despite our inability to see what he carries." His grin matched his King's earlier look.

"Oh, well, out with it, my old friend. What secrets does he bear?"

"Patience, your Highness." He sat himself down across from him and adjusted the clothes on his person. Likely adjusting the various knives the old bird carried about him.

"Now, the first thing discovered was nearly nine thousand bits in various bags hidden inside pockets sown into his rucksacks that he brought with him. Cleverly too might I add. We almost didn't see them at first."

Sigurd blinked, eyes widening. "The drake had said he had his own coin…but that much?"

"What we found next, makes this all the more interesting, my Lord. It also explains a report I've received just before you called me in to listen. I will get to that in a moment." He pulled a sheet of rolled paper from his sleeve and unrolled it. "There were books, some he had already shelved, but the ones still in his bags were far more telling. Tomes on agriculture, a note on how to set up a forge, and long-term storage of goods. All without magical support."

The King's eyes narrowed. "Anything on steel?"

They had long come to rely on Equestrian steel to arm their forces and supply their dwindling farming communities with equipment to till their soil. Every year those fees for shipping and even manufacturing seemed to grow. Draining his nation's already stressed coffers further.

It had not always been like this. In the distant past, griffons had their own steel. Griffonian steel was known far and wide as the benchmark for quality and quantity. But then, disaster. It was during the time in which his ancestor, King Oskar Bloodbeak, ruled. In the span of ten years, Smiths around the nation met with fatal accidents or disappeared entirely. Their notes were either missing or burned, by what appeared to be accidents in their own shops. Even the archives of the various manors of lords and ladies of the land had not escaped the purge of information. By the time those terrifying years ended, the knowledge of their forging of steel had been lost amongst other important information. As if wiped from their minds entirely.

King Oskar had only one nation in mind to blame, only one nation to truly gain from their crippled production. So he had attacked Equestria. It was a rash decision made in the heat of the moment. That would prove to be his downfall.

The city of Manehattan, which had become a bustling seaside port, was the easiest target as it was exposed and open to aerial attack. But something odd happened the morning of the assault.

The ponies, more accurately to say Celestia, deny it to this day, but a wave of golden light washed over the city just as their forces charged. Many died, but the events of that month were seared into the minds and hearts of a generation. Too many eyewitness reports confirm it so.

In his last act as king, Oskar had seceded land to shelter and protect the hippogriffs born nearly a year later. Caretakers from both nations, and a surprisingly large number of the victims, volunteered to assist with the raising of an entirely new species. During that time other pairings that had produced chicks of similar birth, if not the reason behind it, had moved into the small territory to expand the populace.

A little over a hundred years later, Equestria was producing steel of a similar quality that griffons once manufactured. Oskar's suspicions had been dead on, no matter that no one was capable of producing proof.

"A brief look through that book only showed one reference to steel itself." He looked at the paper and squinted. "Carbon Steel. It was written within the open portions of the pages having to do with heating techniques."

Sigurd's grip on his armrests tightened. "Nine thousand in bits, books on manufacturing and agriculture. He is not here for a vacation. The question is, what is he here for exactly?" He was half tempted to call Orion back. If that pony truly knew how to forge steel, he should be grilled thoroughly to root it out and damn the consequences.

"As you know, I am a Discerner as well as a Listener, sire. And I believe I might have a clue as to what he is planning." The King gestured for the old spy to continue. "The trip up from Equestria produced an unusual reaction from him. First, he settled in the carts that carried the refugees. With Equestrian trains, there is always a rail cart reserved for ponies. He ignored that and stayed amongst our poor."

"That is unusual behavior, but remember who we speak of." He responded thoughtfully. Eberhard merely nodded. It was likely out of conserving his finances as well as avoiding the eyes of the train conductors and his fellow Equestrians.

"We have taken that into account, my Lord. But that is not a truly unexpected event. My friend, halfway through his journey, the train stopped off at Bixby. There, he departed briefly to completely buy out a store shop of all its stored goods. Including fish and bread, as well as bags to carry what was left over. He fed the entire train, sire." He finished, Sigurd's eyelids were growing tired of the exercise he was putting them through.

For a long moment, neither griffon spoke, the sun slowly replaced by the lit candles and oil lamps already aflame in his study.

"What do you suspect, Eber?" The King spoke softly.

"I suspect…what may have already begun if on a smaller scale than he intends. After the train arrived, the families he had fed banded together and moved everyone outside of the city. On their way, they purchased several farming and fishing equipment. Netting as well. Our Ears have overheard plans of moving to a smaller settlement that had been abandoned for some time in the Great Blood Forest, northeast of here. The truly surprising revelation is that it is all Orion Falls' idea. Or at least his strong suggestion."

"You…suspect he is here to…what? Act as a charity to our people?" The thought was ridiculous. The idea that the colt had come all the way there to feed his people was not a believable tale he was ready to accept.

"Actually, I think it's more than that, sire. I believe he is here to give back a measure of our dignity." He held up his hands at the angered look from his King. "From what few interviews that were given, Orion had advised those people with not only a suggestion for leaving the city shortly after arrival, but also with notes on how to fish, farm, and store all the goods needed. As well as what resources to look for once they arrived out there."

"He's trying to teach us?!" Sigurd could no longer sit still, so he launched himself to his paws and had begun pacing in front of the bay window of his study.

"I believe so, your Highness. I don't believe he is trying to insult us by doing so. But let us also remember his recent past. That colt, no, as you say, drake, leaped into the fray to save a family's puppy. He acted with all risk and no reward. Even tonight, when you mocked his friend, he stood up for her. That is an important aspect of his character, I think.”

"My only concern is why? What is driving him?" His friend could only shake his head. "There is a reason for this, though it remains hidden within his own mind."

"So what are his next steps? What will he attempt to do?"

Eberhard paused and tapped his beak.

"At the moment, it is difficult to say. But I have a suggestion." He looked hopefully at his liege.

"Speak."

"The offer of your palace library is a wise one. Might I also suggest making available to him the survey reports?"

"Why would I allow that? How would you plan to implement that?"

Survey reports were always turned in to the Crown first. Anyone who might have hired a survey crew was dealing with the King's government directly, so all the information about certain sites went to his clerks first to make copies of, copies they kept in their own private archives.

"To answer the second first, we can use old survey maps dating back ten or twenty years. Place them in the regular map section and covertly keep anyone from entering that is either not librarian staff or in the know. As to why…sire, this pony is looking for something. And that report of those refugees makes me believe it is resources. Particularly profitable ones."

Sigurd continued his pacing. It was a solid idea, and with the records being that aged, there would be little blowback from staff who may object upon finding those maps missing. Yet, there was so much risk. What if Eberhard is wrong, and he is here to exploit the nation for his own gain?

An idea struck him.

"One addendum." Looking up he saw he had Eberhard's full attention. "Make yourself available to him. I want to direct this as much as possible. If you were to provide reasonable guidance we will know what he plans before he does it." With this, they could discover if he was less than his actions made him appear to be.

"It will be as you say, sire."

"Am I interrupting you fledglings?" A melodious voice spoke from the entrance. Sigurd smiled as he turned to the beauty that stepped into his study without a sound.

"No, my Heart. In fact, I believe there is not much else to plan at this moment." He nodded to the Listener. "Eberhard I fear will be busy."

Gabriele Fairheart entered the room with a graceful sway. She had chosen her ornate dress to be red this day, in support of their niece's already doomed efforts. Her blue-green eyes sparkled mischievously at the pair, as his friend rose to take his leave.

"Is that so? What, pray tell, are we to be busy about, my good Discerner?" She was not on the most agreeable ground with her spymaster. While Eberhard Lonelycall was his friend, he technically worked for his wife, the Queen. She did not like when either griffon circumvented her authority in any way.

It had been a long and rocky road for all three to work together smoothly. If with a few feathers ruffled here and there.

"Your Grace, I shall leave the King to tell you, and wait till you send your approval." His friend said smoothly, slipping by her yet staying well out of reach. Instead of glaring at him, she turned her disapproving attention on Sigurd.

The griffon couldn't help but grimace.

"Thank you, oh loyal drake for leaving me out to bake." He snarked within his own head.

Out loud he spoke calmly, "It is with regards to our new guest, my Fire."

Smoothing her feathers would have to start now before even getting to their plans. After all, he married into her family. With his own bloodline's fading fortunes, having to sell a good chunk of their land and resources to keep control, his father had decided to arrange a marriage with the Fairhearts. Powerful, and only two generations old, they hailed from one of the southern lands somewhere inside the Dark Continent. Rumors abound that their wealth came from piracy.

A rumor she had been rather coy with till their wedding night.

It was shocking to discover, as they lay tangled in the sheets of their consummation, that her family, the Fairhearts, were information brokers. They were almost like pirates in the way they stole secret documents, business shipping registries, and even military movements that could be discovered by them. Selling them to the highest bidder was so lucrative that their value expanded exponentially.

That night secrets of her family line came forth in a flood, including the fact that somewhere in her bloodline there was an ancestor who had been a Paroton. It did explain the bright blue-green eyes and thicker beak.

Along with the confession of once having connections of a criminal enterprise merely put away two generations ago, was a spy network still in her employ. A spy network that had been adapted to work for the Griffonian people over the recent years. A spy network, whose stolen information had finally begun to turn the winds of his nation's failing economy.

If Sigurd's house had ever been manipulated into the marriage, Gabriele never said. But there was true love in their hearts for one another despite the arrangement.

His bride settled her rump into his lap very quickly.

"Speak, my Kindling. Does my niece have a chance with that dashing-looking colt?"

"Your niece?" He chortled. He ignored the fact that his wife had goaded him by mentioning how attractive she found their pony guest.

"Hush, dear. She comes to me far more than she comes to you." She poked his beak.

"Yours by marriage, my Heart. I believe I'm entitled to keep what I have learned this evening to myself." He smirked openly with a side-eye.

He nearly winced as she suddenly grabbed a tuft of the top feathers on his head and turned him to face her. His smirk turned into a grin. It was a game that often turned into her getting aggressive if she felt denied of what was by rights hers. And in her eyes, information was always hers. But oh, how he loved to tease her.

Gabriele surprised him when she bit at his neck tenderly. If she was this feisty, the night just may end on an updraft. "We both know she loves me more than you, my Love. I am the one that found her after all." She laid the side of her beak against his in an intimate gesture.

It was a fair point. While it may have been his financial backing, such as it was, it was her network that had pieced together where she had been taken.

He grimaced.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news on that front…" He began. It was sad to cut their game so short, but unfortunate tidings did not age well.

"That…that…scoundrel!" She thumped Sigurd on his chest with a fist. The blow was weak, and the pain he felt was more for his bride being upset than any injury that may have been done to him. He could understand her anger, her great disappointment. However, she was wrong.

Gabriele had sat still, merely listening, as he recounted his encounter with the enigmatic pony. Her countenance darkened when he got to the portion of the interview in which Orion denied interest in Grace romantically.

Now the hen was in one of her tempers, losing her composer completely.

It was strange to Sigurd that she could be so articulate, so centered, then one thing might go astray and she would lose the ability to coordinate her thoughts. Such was the case with the gardener. Poor griffon. It was a very short-lived temper tantrum, however, for he had found that his bride seemed to pull herself together quickly after one of her flare-ups.

"Now, now, my Fire." He patted her legs soothingly. "He never made claims to be enamored with Grace. Even his letters were rather tame for someone who might be a lover. You even said so yourself that it was odd that he never spoke of sweet nothings."

"I-I...I did, but to play-" He raised a single digit and she relented. "I know. It's just…I had hope for her." She gestured at her dress in despair.

The Language of Colors was an old, ingrained custom that had existed as long as the griffon people. Unlike their more colorful cousins, the Parotons, their fur, and feathers were found to be much more subdued and neutral in color. So when a griffon did put in the effort to stain feathers or wear a particularly vibrant set of clothing, it was a message of their intentions.

Orange for a successful hunt, blue for a good negotiation. Colors were a talisman that had stuck with his race for thousands of years.

Red was the color of romance and love. With a particular cut of cloth, such as a dress like the one his wife wore, the message was clear.

Orion, however, was not a griffon. His people were bright and colorful things save for few exceptions such as himself. He did not know the Language of Colors. Something Gabriele should have known. But she had been hoping and excited at the prospect. That excitement seemed to have blinded her to certain cultural differences.

Sigurd had to admit he had been hoping as well, though guiltily for a far more utilitarian reason. It was true, he wanted Grace to find love and happiness. If anyone deserved it, it was her.

But the King of the griffons was far more interested in the product of that union. A way to tie the Neighbonese back to his kingdom once again would bolster their standing in the world. Marrying off a son or daughter, whichever was born first, would bind their people together without any messy complications or heavy political maneuverings. Opening the door for new pathways of unification under his son.

"My Queen. Orion may be a lot of things, but a manipulator of hearts is not one of them." He was pointing to the evidence that he was consistently rejecting the interest of a number of ponies quite openly. To see him do the same here was no real surprise, though his bride had confidence that he was merely holding out for Grace.

"I know…" She frowned, the business-like mask that she wore when dealing with her spies returned. "This plan Eberhard and you have cooked up, I'm not sure it is wise."

"Oh? Is there something wrong with our planning?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"Not necessarily. Heart, you have done so well turning us about with the winds fighting so hard against you. I fear you see an opportunity that's not there. Giving sensitive information may not be an advisable action." She nodded. "Even if that knowledge is a couple of decades old. We still don't know where he has come from."

The one thing Sigurd had not mentioned in his recitation of Orion's past, was his specific origins because they had no idea where he had been born. No one had seen him before Stalliongrad. Interviews in the surrounding villages and towns of that area had yielded nothing, not even a family line.

It was as if the colt had been yanked from the ether itself and given flesh.

"You're still suspicious of his closeness with Celestia." He muttered, knowing she would hear.

"Yes, I am. Sigurd," she used his name once more, "he treats her as if she is a friend. All the reports have said so."

"My Love, he treated me as if I was just another griffon on the street. I don't actually think he respects authority in any meaningful way." He had glossed over the details of how Orion had reacted in his original recitation, rather, focusing on the conclusions he and Eberhard had drawn from them. Berating himself for the neglect, he explained further.

When he had finished, she nodded thoughtfully.

"To be so flippant with royalty…is a surprise." She tapped her beak in thought. "I will…allow this. But I wish to assign someone to watch him. We must know what he plans as he plans it, otherwise, I fear he may catch us grounded when we should be flying to intercept."

"Thank you, Gabriele." His claws had found their way under her petticoats. "I have already arranged for Eberhard to make himself available, as he is already familiar with the drake and it won’t be seen as the mild trap that it is. Is there anything else to note?" He wanted this impromptu meeting over for the evening. That dress, which showed off her wings and sides of her breasts so pleasingly, and the bite she had playfully given him earlier, still had his blood racing somewhat. His hands had begun to wander, dragging his claws through the fur of her legs as he pushed the petticoats aside.

"Two actually. The first being Maredo'lado is in fact destroyed." She sighed, swatting at his hands. The all-business look was still there.

"This we know. Has something changed?" He let his hands rest back on her knee, irritated mildly at being thwarted.

"We have determined that the Zerbricans had nothing to do with it. For one thing, the nearest tribe was almost a week's march away." That got his attention.

"Then who led the attack?"

Shaking her head, Gabriele wore a pensive frown. "We…cannot be certain, however, the ground where the ponies had set up their settlement was…disturbed."

Sigurd's blood ran cold.

When he was a young drake, full of fire and lacking in wits, still feeling out the Wind's course in his life, he and a small force had gone forth to explore Zerbrica for themselves.

It was during that expedition that he had begun to hear rumors of something that lived beneath the sands. Something monstrous and deadly. Ne’rex Nagabou. The Soul Stealer. He had, unfortunately, confirmed its existence himself in the most foolish of ways.

It had been an idiotic plan. His little band had been hired to attack a group of raiding Abyssinians. They had chosen to cross the open desert sands at night, which had been a grave mistake.

The first sign of trouble had been a mournful groaning that shook the soft earth beneath their paws, making it difficult to keep on their footing. Rather than doubling back and choosing a more acceptable, if longer path, they continued on. Landing to rest their wings in the night would normally have been a brilliant strategy, but they should have instead let the heat winds carry them on to the mountains, but they had not known of the danger.

The Nagabou was waiting for them on their next landing, somehow able to predict their course. In an explosion of sand and pulsing lights of purple and greens, it struck.

Of the three hundred that had gone into that desert with him, only twenty-four returned. It was later learned that the Abyssinians themselves had set the trap by hiring them through a proxy. They had been hoping to either sell or eat, the survivors. Before they could make good on that plan, Sigurd had ordered a full retreat from their encampment in the Hyrfan Canyons.

He had brought four hundred souls with him on his egotistical desire to prove himself a worthy warrior for the Crown. Had he but known of the disaster he would incur in his recklessness.

He shuddered.

"I thought stone was a bar to It."

"It appears that It may have found a path of soft earth to get close with. We are not certain, but it's only in a few locations that indicate the Creature may be involved." She spoke sadly.

The King shook his head. "Those poor souls." While much love was lost between griffon and pony, no one believed anyone should suffer fates worse than death. "You said two things? What is the other?" Both of their blood had been tempered with this news.

"The other is there is still no sign of the Artificer." He grunted at that.

"My Fire, that is not really news. That's more a continued failure of our ability to find them."

Since the repair of Celestia's gate had been learned, the Eyes, Ears, and Listeners had been on high alert in order to find the one who repaired it. There was a Knife in the dark just waiting for them once the target had been found.

It had come as a complete shock. No one had heard of an enchanter in centuries, the last being a diamond dog. That mutt had been executed, and all the creations he had made were confiscated and destroyed. This new Artificer had appeared unexpectedly. Not only that, rather than brag about their ability, they had vanished the moment they completed the work, never revealing themselves. The only point of contact had been a master smith named Forager Broadhammer.

The minotaur's family had been in charge of the Gate since Celestia had placed it in their charge with the great-grandfather. Like those before him, he had only been doing the bare minimum of looking for an enchanter. Everyone outside of pony lands knew better than to allow the risk of the Princess once again regaining her ancient power.

Yet, somehow, one landed in his lap anyway.

"I take it, the whorse hasn't discovered their identity either?" He said with a heavy sigh.

"No, and she is tearing her mane out in frustration." She giggled. "Reports say she is planning to double the reward soon, on both them turning themselves in, or someone doing the deed instead."

"Greed…doesn't seem to be a motivating factor for our mysterious crafter. Perhaps they were merely testing their skill after all." It was an old theory. The only one that made any real sense considering they had nothing else to work with.

"It is looking more and more likely." She leaned into him. "My only concern is if they don't want fame, why even do it all?"

"That, my Heart, is the million-bit question."

Morning found Orion looking blearily at the short maid from the day before. He had trouble falling asleep after his meeting with the griffon King. That bird-cat monarch really knew how to mind fuck a person, and so he was stuck staring at the ceiling trying in vain to find solutions to fuck-ups he was not even aware of.

"Say that again, slowly please." His normal caustic demeanor was buried under exhaustion and night terrors.

When his eyes finally did blissfully close, those nightmares that he could hardly remember didn't seem to match or correlate with anything that had happened to him yesterday. Just high vaulted halls with very old-looking ironwork in the windows. Blackish purple fog obscured everything.

Something, or someone, had been watching him from those foggy depths.

"I said," the young griffon maid began slowly in an irritated tone, "Lady Grace will be unable to join you for breakfast this morning. As this is the case, you will have to find your meal in the barracks dining hall. That is in the East Wing." She pointed down the hall. "Take that, and proceed till you get to the third pathway. Go right, and follow that path until you come to a pair of double doors. That's the dining hall. You'll know you're in the right place with all the guards marching about." She stared back up at him, her face scrunching up with a sniff. "Take a bath. You smell like the back end of a skitermire rat."

He was so tired, he couldn't even muster up a glare to scorch the little shit with. He simply shut the door in her face and made his way to the bathroom.

He shuddered, stepping from the tub and wrapping a thick towel about his frame.

Either they did not have hot water, or someone was screwing with him as the large spigot above the tub had only spewed icy-cold death. No amount of waiting for it to warm up seemed to change its temperature, and he was getting too hungry to care. As he was far too tired to form the semi-complicated spell structures to heat the water, he jumped right in and barely stopped himself from shrieking like a cat. His nutsack had to have shrunk three sizes.

Orion looked into the mirror above the bathroom sink and sighed as he tossed the damp towel into a corner.

"I look like hell warmed over with shit." These nightmares were getting worse.

Heading back into his private bedroom he pulled out his sack of clothes and started sorting through them. As he decided on what to wear, he thought about his dream problem. They had first begun when he had arrived in Canterlot. It may have happened once or twice a year. Now, however, they were occurring as many times as one or two a week.

His first thoughts that they were just a reflection of his worry of being found out, had been pushed away. For one, the dreams were unlike anything he had ever experienced. They felt too real, even if he could not remember everything about them.

There was also the environment to consider, it was always the same. An ancient crumbling castle with iron-barred windows and torn tapestries. Through the fog of black and purple, he could see sections of the walls having been torn apart completely in some type of hellish assault. Couple that with the feeling of being watched and the occasional child crying somewhere further on, and it was all damn well spooky.

Stepping out of his room after choosing an orange shirt and black pants, he made his way to the hall the maid had indicated. To his surprise, the corridor led into the mountain itself. Orion's sense of amazement only grew as he walked into a cavern instead of the expected pathways of a normal castle.

No. That wasn't right. It wasn't just a cavern, but a vast carved-out complex with bridges and walkways crisscrossing themselves at regular intervals. Stopping at a section of crossways the maid had indicated he would need to turn, he peered out into the gloom at some sort of structure cast in shadow. Its shape was irregular like squat skyscrapers bunched together.

"The hell is that?" He muttered.

"That would be the Hyperborean Ruins Mr. Falls." Came the familiar voice of Eberhard Lonelycall.

It took everything in him not to leap into the chasm before them. "Why in the hell did I make the damn radar enchantment if I never fucking use it?!"

It was on, but in his current groggy and exhausted state, he hadn't much paid attention to it.

Grumbling he turned around and glared at the unflappable steward.

"You know it's not polite to scare the hell out of guests." He said hotly.

"I do apologize most sincerely, sir. I did not mean to frighten you." The slim and prim griffon remained immune to his gaze's desire for murder. Orion turned his head away and growled. "What was that, sir?"

"Nothing." He grumbled then took another look at the ruins. "You called that the what? Hyperborean Ruins?"

"Ah, yes. I did." Eberhard stepped forward to stand next to him and gestured at the ancient buildings. "They've been there for some time by all accounts."

Curious, the colt asked the questions now waking up his mind. "Really? Who made them? What's inside?"

"I'm afraid I cannot answer any of those, Mr. Falls. It is perfectly sealed. No known tool of ours can even scratch it. Even worse, there is no indication as to what civilization placed them here." The griffon shook his head sadly. "A true mystery."

Orion frowned as he thought.

"Not even a scratch? True, these guys are barely more than cave…birds? Whatever, barely more advanced than the stone age. Still, to not even be able to scratch the material?"

"Wait, you're telling me that your ancient ancestors built an impenetrable fortress INSIDE a mountain, and none of you know how to get into it?" He asked skeptically. To which Eberhard politely chuckled, shaking his head.

"No. Mr. Falls, that collection of structures is older than the first griffonian rulers to settle here. It predates us by several thousand years at the very least, though our efforts at determining an exact age are difficult. Even the very few researchers we allowed to come from Equestria could not figure out its age. Or how to get inside. We do not even know just how large it truly is."

Orion blinked in surprise. Not even Equestrians knew what it was? He whistled.

"How come I never learned about this in class?" Not really addressing it to his unwanted companion. Eberhard responded anyway.

"Likely because I doubt your education is covering archeology, sir." The pony snorted at that. He was right, but the fact that he knew somehow irked him.

Turning from the ruins he addressed the griffon steward. "You my foalsitter today, or something?"

The griffon's eyes widened for a moment before he chuckled. "No, sir. I was just making sure you were making your way to the dining hall. Lady Grace wishes to express her deepest regrets that she was unable to join you for breakfast this morning."

He just waved the bird off.

"No need for all of that. I get it. She's got responsibilities. I can fend for myself for a few hours." He shrugged and turned to head on down the path toward the barracks dining hall. "I do have to wonder, not that I am used to it by any means, but I am curious to know if you guys normally serve your guests meals in their rooms."

Eberhard was hot on his heels.

"Ah, apologies. But I fear you are partly to blame." He gave the pony before him an apologetic look. "Not to sound rude, but the announcement of your sudden arrival came too late for us to prepare anything in advance. I can tell you that starting tomorrow you will be provided meals in your room upon request. When you are not, of course, dining with her Ladyship."

Orion felt bad about that. Had it not been such a time crunch, and if he hadn't been worried about Celestia or someone intercepting his last letter to Screaming, he would have certainly given them a better heads-up. He had half believed his letter wouldn’t even make it to Griffonia before him.

"Naw, don't worry about that. As long as the food is decent I can slum it with the troops no problem."

The griffon steward missed a step and caught himself before moving quickly to catch back up. "Are you sure, sir?"

Well, at least he wasn't going to fight him on it.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. Besides, I'm no noble." He laughed. A look back showed Eberhard bore a whimsical smile.

"I will let his Majesty know of your preferences. And the maids as well."

"Speaking of maids." He ducked around a group of three guards. They turned to watch him curiously as he and Screaming's steward made their way back into the rough-hewn walls of the mountain. "What's up with the short one? The tabb…the griffon hen with an attitude." He nearly called the bird-cat a tabby. Other than some falcon's features, the servant looked more like a tabby cat than anything else he had seen.

"Ah. Apologies for her temper. Valka Goodwing is still rather new to the role of servant." The griffon shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. "She was from a minor house. Unfortunately, with fortunes the way they are, her family has fallen into disgrace."

"Oh…shit." His brain was as capable as ever in forming a cohesive sentence. Still, the knowledge that the nobility were beginning to fall was discouraging. The nation was on its last breaths if it was that bad.

The wealthy as much as he disliked them, yet wished to join, were the financial backbone of any organized government. Sure communes could get along in small isolated groups, but without the weight of a government with military backing, they would quickly be snapped up by less-than-good-intentioned regimes. Someone always wanted more power.

"Indeed. Here we are, Mr. Falls." He gestured to the large double doors they had been searching for.

Guards were streaming in and out in groups, yammering away at each other and laughing uproariously.

All that stopped the moment they approached. The troops nearby gave respectful nods to Eberhard, which made Orion reevaluate the bird-cat’s position in the hierarchy of the castle. There was clearly more to him than just being the head servant of his friend.

Where the steward had received courtesy, the colt amongst the armed forces of Griffonia got stares of bewilderment.

"I'm not expected to be here, am I?" He whispered to his escort.

"Ah, yes. I suppose you would not be. Any pony visitors we have ever received have chosen to eat away from griffons in general." He sniffed, rather angrily. "Our nature offends them, or so I have been told."

Orion suppressed a grin. "Oh, they're in for a treat then." Eberhard actually laughed. Politely.

"I shall leave you here, Mr. Falls." He stepped away, prim form once more. "I've also been instructed to inform you that the castle library is in the west wing. Not too far away from where your room is. Any guard shall be capable of directing you if asked." He bowed slightly. "Enjoy your day, sir. Lady Grace should be able to see you this afternoon."

"Yeah, sure. Thanks. For the company and letting me know about Scream." He waved and squeezed into the dining hall, much to the surprise of the griffon soldiers around him.

"What is that?" Orion pointed to a stack of very familiar cylindrical meat, his mouth had begin to drool. If that was what he thought it was, he was going to cry. For joy.

The cook behind the counter, a burly bird-cat with a scar across his left eye that had not robbed him of his sight, grinned as he picked up one of the meat sticks in his claws.

"This? This here is called sausage." He waved it about. "Not that you ponies would know that. It's meat. You wouldn't-"

"How many can I have?!" He practically blurted, spit leaking at the corner of his mouth that he wiped away with an arm.

"...what?" It looked like someone had conked the cook right between the eyes.

"How. Many. Can. I. Have?" Orion said slowly.

"As…as much…as you want?" The question was clear. Along with the shock that he wanted meat. Behind the griffon, a number of cooks and assistants came to a halt, all staring like he had grown a second head.

Rather than drag this out, for one there were eggs and another type of meat toward the end he wanted to dig into. "I want six pieces, please." Someone choked behind him. He ignored that.

Numbly, the cook placed the sausages on his plate, and the colt moved down for the rest of the goodies on the buffet line.

When Orion had first entered the dining hall proper, the hush that had fallen in the hallways followed him inside. Every eye watched as he made his way over to the breakfast line, and grabbed a tray.

No one seemed to object, so that was a good start.

Sitting down at an isolated wooden picnic table, he grinned at his prize. Real meat. The ham slices, from what he was told, came from an animal called a gordat. A vaguely boar-like animal found on the northern slopes of the mountain where the castle was built upon.

The difference between boars on earth, and the ones here, were that they were heavier, and somehow bred in greater numbers. Making them ideal for mass harvesting without damaging the population.

It was still deathly silent. But as he picked up the first slice, and dipped it in a sauce that tasted oddly like horseradish, the whole cafeteria seemed to become a tomb.

He bit into it and felt tears leak from his eyes. It was so delicious. He quickly scarfed the piece and reached for another one. By his fourth, a griffoness in padded armor, sat down in front of him with her own tray. Her beak worked, but no words came out.

Pausing he regarded the guard with a cocked eyebrow.

"Gonna let flies in if ya keep gaping like that." He shoved a sausage into his mouth and moaned. The sun could explode and he would not regret a thing.

For a moment, the bird-cat stared. Then started laughing.

"Drake, if you wanted to impress us," she said through tears and giggles, "you didn't have to make yourself sick to do it!" The griffon howled and pounded the table.

Many others had begun chuckling to various degrees, those closest to his table, the rest just sat with confused faces. He had some doubters.

Chugging back some orange juice, he grinned and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. Mrs. Evergarden would have had a fit.

"Lady, if you think I'm putting on a show for you I hate to burst your bubble. This is all about me," he picked up another sausage, "and the blessings your country is currently heaping on me in the form of these incredible fucking meat sticks of heaven.”

As he devoured the hapless little sausage, the guard before him spluttered again. The laughter had died down as well.

"You…you can't seriously tell me you like meat!" She finally got out.

"Lady. I don't just like it. I actually need it. I've been making due on a diet of fish. But I MISS the taste of red meat." He popped some scrambled eggs into his maw. Even the eggs felt like they were on another level. He should have asked where they sourced them from.

"Wait. Need?" Her eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean, need?"

He flashed her a grin, the first this morning, and put his teeth on full display.

"Believe it or not, I'm an omnivore. First of my kind according to some of the doctors back in Equestria."

The hen just sat there, dumbstruck as he explained away all the testing that had been done to confirm what he already knew. As he tossed in the last bit of gordat into his mouth, Orion patted his stomach.

"Dear God above, I needed that." He looked at her still-untouched plate. "That's likely gotten cold by now."

To this, the griffon guard cursed. "Fucking, Tartarus." The colt cocked his head a moment and smiled.

"Let me help you with that." His horn burst to life, making several soldiers jerk in surprise. Scanning the food, he applied a heating spell that brought the breakfast back up to consumable temperatures. "There, that should do it."

Taking a hesitant bite of sausage, she perked up in surprise. "Hey, that's not bad!" She dug in and was quiet for a while as he lazily finished his OJ.

In the lull of that moment, the dining hall seemed to turn back into what he supposed was a normal amount of chatter. No doubt he was the subject of many of the conversations that echoed their way about the room to reach him as white noise.

He turned to his not-quite-unwanted eating companion, shrugging his shoulders a bit before deciding it would be rude not to introduce himself with the only griffon to interact with him voluntarily. Well, besides Eberhard.

"Names Orion Falls. You?" He stuck out his hand.

She looked at him, then his outstretched hand, then her own. Wiping it on her padded armor's chest, and shook his finally.

"My name is Swiftwing. Uh, Gertie Swiftwing. Everyone just calls me Swift." She said sheepishly.

"Call me whatever. So, I'll leave out the obvious questions as to why you came over here." They both chuckled at that. "But I will ask how fast this is gonna tear through the gossip wheel here in Griffonstone." He gestured to himself and the now very empty plate before him, wearing a very satisfied smile.

Swift thought for a moment before giving a smile of her own. "Likely already spread through the castle. Expect the city to know by sundown. Fuck me, I wish my fledgling was here to see this. She would never have believed it! A pony. Eating meat and actually needing it! Ha!" She slapped the table again.

"Skeptical of everything?" He asked. In truth, he cared little, but as he sat there Orion was beginning to regret how much he had taken on his plate and was looking for something to keep himself awake. The itis was hitting him already, the gym was looking like his next stop of the day.

"Yeah." She said, suddenly melancholic. "My fault I suppose." He braced himself for the overshare and was surprised that she kept it simple. "I had her outside of marriage, and young to boot. Wasn't the greatest mom, ya know?"

He shrugged and gave an honest reply. "I'm an orphan, wouldn't know."

"Oh? Sorry." Swift said with a frown.

"Eh, don't worry about it. I'm fine with it. What's your kid's name? I mean fledgling." He said quickly.

"No, kid is a pretty fucking accurate thing to call her. Stubborn as any goat I've met. Her name is Gilda. She's the bane of my existence, and yet, the spark of my life." She shook her head with a smile. "Unfortunately, she's adopted the harsher attitudes from me. I'm surprised I managed to get her to go to summer camp at all this year."

Orion cocked his head. There are summer camps? In what is essentially medieval times?

"Summer camp? Really?" He asked incredulously.

"Hey, you ponies are the ones to come up with it." She laughed. "The camp is called Junior Flyers. It's for pegasi but a fair bit of griffons and other flight-bound species get to attend. As long as you can afford it that is." She sighed. "If they keep raising the cost I don't see me being able to fucking send her next year."

"Ouch. That…I don't have anything to say to that." He mumbled.

"Yeah, not much anyone can say." The conversation trailed off there for a few minutes. "...well I have to get to my post. It was nice…"meating" you, Orion." They shook hands with another laugh, and Swift was out the door.

"Guess there is such a thing as single mothers here." He muttered, standing and taking his tray to a deposit station. He should ask one of those guards near the door where a gym might be at.

Late afternoon, he was in the castle library. In all honesty, it might be better if he referred to it as a personal collection than a proper library. The Canterlot Castle Library's first-floor crystal archive room was bigger by half.

Still, there was quite a bit of material that wasn't on the shelves of that world-famous library. Or at least nothing he could get a hold of as there were restricted zones that Twilight had told him about.

He wonder how she was doing.

A lot of controversial titles such as, "The Tyranny of the Sun". A scathing study on Celestia and her role as leader and demigod of Equestria. A quick scan even made a claim she was lying about her supposed mastery over the celestial object.

After a little digging, he found that the author, an Earth pony scientist named Fig Newton who had been beheaded for his crimes against country and Princess over the very book that was now in his temporary possession. It was an eye-opening reminder that while the ruler of Equestria may indulge his more rude behaviors with some equanimity, she was still very much capable and willing to end a threat to her rule. Maybe now that he was older he should moderate his behavior around her, with this latest stunt he pulled, being polite might keep his head on his shoulders.

Perusing through a few more aisles, he found a section of maps, dusty from their long languish of inactivity. Might be a good idea to know what was inside the nation. Just as he reached for one, a voice popped up behind him.

"Why am I not surprised to find you here, bookworm." Screaming's voice was heavy with sarcasm. He turned around with a smirk on his face.

"Eh, figured I would make it easy for you to find me." She shoved him gently and he poked her in the stomach. "What's up, Featherbreath? Meetings go okay?"

"Please, can we not talk about those, I hate them." She groaned walking toward the entrance.

He winced in commiseration. Likely the same troubles that had plagued Twilight when she ascended from the average commoner to nobility by proxy. If not more so. Screaming had inherited a title and not quite the responsibilities to a land that was her long-dead family's. There was no support other than what had been cobbled together by the King and various loyal members of her house.

Against her, was a griffoness who had been in the game for decades. What she struggled to learn, Rosebreast knew on instinct alone. Not to mention where she had spent much of her conscious youth already poisoned her in the eyes of her supposed peers.

Scream's life was complicated as hell.

"I have dinner waiting for us." She said as she grabbed his hand and pulled him along. His stomach obviously heard her, because it gave a grumble of approval much to his embarrassment.

Screaming's beak broke into a broad smile. "I take it your stomach approves?"

He laughed as he pulled the library door shut. "Believe me, he has never been so happy. I think lunch made him even happier than breakfast."

Lunch, once he had taken a shower to wash the sweat and grime of a difficult workout off, was amazing. His heart warmed at the memory of the buffet line with deli meat-style cuts. He had made such a big sandwich.

"I heard about that." She giggled, giving him a bemused expression. "I also hear you've been making friends with the castle soldiers."

He shrugged awkwardly.

The guard from breakfast that morning had decided to spread the word of the meat-eating pony. The entire dining hall was soon packed moments after he had started to build his sandwich that very afternoon. Swift had been his immediate lunch companion, but she was soon followed by several others as they crowded him, asking the same questions she had before.

It was nice.

They didn't ask with the predisposition air of disdain. Instead, they were just curious about who he was and where he had come from. A far more accepting group of people he had not met in this world.

The folks of Ponyville were close, but they had needed a mare named Granny to make them more approachable.

Shooting the shit with them for the better part of forty minutes was a great way to spend his lunch and made him feel less isolated coming up here.

If wishes were fishes everyone would have some to fry, but he really did wish he could have come into this world as a griffon. They were a lot more accepting of the strange up here.

"Heard about that, did ya?" He smiled at her enthusiastic nod. "Yeah, they were all curious about the meat-eating pony. Had to give them the details. Or as much as I thought they could handle."

"Well, tell me about it over dinner." She had hung onto his arm the entire way, practically dragging him. The room she pulled him into was her own private rooms, and there in the center was a table for two. Complete with a single candle.

"Oh, boy. I'm am gonna have to be careful here." He wasn't about to be some asshole, and drag her heart through the dirt. But at the same time, he couldn't just allow her to believe in a fantasy either.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he thought about how best to let her down easily without shattering her heart.

She understood why Sigurd had not rejected the refugees that constantly flocked to Griffonstone. It was a cycle after all. For as far back as the emancipation of the hippogriff's nation of Neighbon, the flood of the hungry, the desperate, and the sick was a constant sight. Allowing that small territory to sue for its independence was a mistake, one her ancestors would never have allowed to happen.

Rosebreast clucked her beak in frustration as she gazed out onto the stricken capital city of Griffonia. It should never have been allowed to fall this far. From here, she could see the masses packed into the filthy alleyways between buildings.

Eventually, enough bits would be scrapped together to send them back out to old settlements to try again. Their children would likely return.

However, there was proof that whatever Sigurd was up to was working. Less and less would return to Griffonstone every Migration, as her fellow nobles had begun to call it, and that was cause for concern.

Rosebreast adjusted the bodice of her black-trimmed dress and leaned her hands against the black wood railing before her.

The King of Griffonia had somehow managed to turn the failing economy, and his own house's fortunes, around in the past thirty years. She suspected a large part of that was due to his Queen. A lucky break for him, and an obstacle for her. Gabriele's information network was a tasty prize that the Duchess absolutely would have once her other plans had succeeded.

If they succeeded.

So far the King and Queen's hatchling had proven difficult to kill. Prince Gerhard was showing he was as crafty as his mother in discovering carefully laid traps before they were sprung.

Her grip on the rail tightened, driving her claws into the wood.

Then there was the return of Grace Fairheart. An unwelcome surprise that made her wish the fledgling had been trampled with her parents. Her return threatened her control and standing all at once. If the House of Lords decided against her, all her plans would come to nothing.

She smiled.

"That shouldn't be a problem anymore."

The foolish hen had invited a pony, of all people, to the capital. Not just any pony either, but one known to be closely associated with the whorse, Celestia. It was too perfect. This Orion Falls status as an orphan was secondary, a very distant secondary. None of her fellow nobles would see that, only the monarch of ponies behind him.

Once Gerhard was removed, Sigurd and his pirate bride could be swiftly dealt with.

Rosebreast allowed her smile to grow. She would be magnanimous and allow Grace Fairheart to live in disgrace in some forgotten hovel. Never to rise from the dirt again.

The door to her veranda opened with a faint click she just barely heard. Turning quickly, she found her most loyal of servants already bowing low before her.

"Speak Drystan. What news do you bring me?"

The all-black griffon rose from his position but kept his head angled appropriately low, as a servant should.

"I bring…concerning news, my Lady." His voice was nearly as silent as his flight in the night.

Her good mood slackened, and a frown replaced her features.

"What is it?"

"The colt that is visiting Grace Fairheart has had an unusual two days…."

As her servant spoke of the events of his arrival, the frown turned into a scowl.

Author's Note

Hello! Welcome to Chapter 19, or as I like to call it: "My personal Hell."

"But why Master Morgan? You love writing!" You may say. Indeed I do, but this chapter...oooo this chapter I wish to see burned. I spent far too long on it.

Now, some of you may have noticed a name drop. Shhhh.

Monday I start my new job and judging by the next two weeks I shall know how busy I am and how it will impact the story's production rate. Hopefully, I will have a decent handle on it.

Well, that's it! Thanks for coming to see this chapter, and I cannot wait for you to see the next one.