When I was younger, just a spry 13-year-old griffon, I found solace in painting. Sure, I wasn't about to become the next Vincent Van Goat, but you couldn't convince me otherwise—I was proud of my work. That passion carried me through my childhood until I was accepted into one of Yale Protectorate's colleges for art and history. It felt like a dream come true, but like all dreams, it didn't last. Before long, the Kingdom of Aquileia declared war against us, and I found myself conscripted at the tender age of 18. Two years of waiting, two years of anticipation, until finally, I saw combat at the front lines. It could have been longer, had I known better. Just five hours in, and I lost my wings to an explosion. Depending on who you ask, losing your wings is worse than losing a limb or even your eyes. Sure, I was grateful to be alive, but it left a gaping pit inside me. I grew distant from my family, unable to paint anything worth keeping, and I couldn't bear to look at myself in the mirror. A mutilated griffon, a mere shell of who I once was—strange how that stirs up such a tumult of emotions.
A pair of confused and horrified eyes suddenly rested on Fritz, jolting him out of his reverie. "Uh, mister, you're holding up the line," the mare said, her voice tinged with a mixture of concern and impatience as she held up a guilty-looking hoof. Startled, Fritz quickly snapped back to reality, realizing he had been lost in thought and inadvertently causing a delay. With an apologetic nod, he stepped aside, allowing the line to continue flowing, but the weight of his memories lingered, casting a shadow over the present moment.
Feeling the weight of the collective stares bearing down on him, Fritz's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he hastily grabbed the paper bag bearing his name from the counter. "Right, sorry," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper as he made a beeline for the exit. The mix of glances from the other ponies—some filled with anger, others with irritation, and a few with genuine confusion—only intensified his embarrassment. With a sense of relief washing over him as he stepped out of the bagel store, Fritz couldn't help but feel a lingering sense of discomfort, the memory of his awkward encounter burning brightly in his mind.
Outside the bagel store, Canterlot's streets stretched out before Fritz in a bustling maze of activity. The city was alive with the constant motion of ponies, their figures weaving in and out of the throng like colorful threads in a tapestry. Fritz sighed, feeling a pang of frustration as he navigated through the crowded sidewalks, dodging and sidestepping his way through the sea of bodies. Despite his best efforts, there was no escape from the relentless hustle and bustle of city life, leaving him longing for a moment of peace and solitude amidst the chaos.
As Fritz traversed the expansive streets of Canterlot, he couldn't help but lament his lack of wings, wishing for the ability to soar effortlessly above the crowded thoroughfares. After what felt like an eternity of walking, he finally reached his destination: the Canterlot Art Museum. With a mixture of relief and resignation, he gazed up at the imposing marble facade, the sign greeting him with a familiar yet unwelcome sight. "Canterlot Art Museum," it read, serving as a stark reminder of his impending workday. Summoning what enthusiasm he could muster, Fritz muttered a half-hearted "hurray" under his breath before steeling himself to enter the building and begin another day on the job.
As soon as Fritz opened the door to the Canterlot Art Museum, he was greeted by the sight of Honey Straw, a small grey mare, waiting with a clipboard in her magical grasp. Without skipping a beat, she began pestering him with questions. "Good morning, Mr. Skywing," she said in a monotone voice, her eyes focused intently on the clipboard. "I'd like to discuss the schedule for today. We have a restoration in the labs on the 'Masters of Harmony' piece, as well as the 'Mare in the Moon' one as well." Her words were efficient and to the point, leaving little room for discussion.
Fritz was about to open his beak to speak, but Honey Straw cut him off with another directive. "We also have to move some art in the modern art section. We've been donated a piece as of this weekend and will receive it tomorrow." Fritz paused in his tracks, feeling a twinge of frustration at being continually interrupted. "Good morning to you too, Ms. Straw," he replied with a hint of exasperation, resigned to the fact that his attempts at conversation would have to wait for another moment.
Looking up from her clipboard, Honey Straw finally made eye contact with Fritz. "Oh, yes it is, isn't it, sir?" she replied with a smile, seemingly oblivious to his frustration. Her cheerful demeanor contrasted sharply with Fritz's own exasperation, but he couldn't help but feel a slight pang of amusement at her obliviousness. With a resigned sigh, he forced a small smile in return, knowing that there was little use in dwelling on the matter further.
"Anything else?" Fritz asked, trying to keep his tone neutral despite his growing impatience. He needed to know the full extent of his tasks for the day so he could plan accordingly.
Honey thought for a moment before nodding. "Oh yes, we have job interviews today at 11:00 for the opening at the historical curation position," she confirmed, her tone more animated now as she relayed the additional task.
Fritz couldn't help but roll his eyes internally. "Of course we do, and who's gonna do it? Me... that's who," he thought to himself with a touch of sarcasm. It seemed like just another task added to his already full plate, but he knew he had to tackle it head-on like everything else.
Dismissing Honey with a nod, Fritz, with his sharp claws, began walking down a set of corridors adorned with art from various periods and meanings. Each piece held its own story, contributing to the rich tapestry of the museum's collection. Eventually, he arrived at a wooden door with gold letters that read "Museum Director." With a confident stride, Fritz extended his clawed hand and rapped firmly on the door, ready to tackle the responsibilities that awaited him as the museum's director.
Sitting behind his desk, Fritz began cycling through a trove of mundane and tiring stacks of paperwork. It was moments like these that drained his passion for art and history—the endless bureaucracy that seemed to suffocate the very essence of creativity and exploration. With each form filled and each signature penned, Fritz felt a little piece of his enthusiasm slip away, replaced by a sense of weariness and frustration. Yet, he soldiered on, knowing that amidst the paperwork lay the opportunity to continue preserving and sharing the wonders of the past with the world.
As Fritz sifted through the paperwork, his keen eyes caught sight of a document that made the feathers on his neck stand up slightly. It was a paper approving the reception of a Griffonian Imperial soldier uniform and kit—a stark reminder of his own past and the tumultuous history of his homeland. The idea of displaying such a symbol of power and conflict sent a shiver down his spine, stirring up a mix of emotions within him. Part of him felt a sense of pride at the strength of his homeland, while another part couldn't shake the memories of the horrors of war that he had witnessed firsthand. With a furrowed brow, Fritz set the document aside, knowing that its inclusion in the museum's collection would spark both fascination and controversy among visitors.
Spacing out, Fritz found himself transported back to another place and time. Smoke hung heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of mud and burning steel. The landscape before him was a desolate wasteland, barren fields scarred with craters from mortar fire, and the remnants of destroyed buildings bore witness to the unrelenting siege. It was a scene of devastation, both on the enemy's home turf and his own—the once-mighty Griffonian Empire. As memories of the horrors of war flooded his mind, Fritz couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness and regret for the destruction wrought by conflict.
A knock at the door jolted Fritz from his thoughts. Peeking her head in, Honey announced, "Sir, the candidates are here for the job position."
The first interviewee opened the door, revealing a skinny blue stallion. He wore a set of glasses, and his mane was neatly parted to the side. Sitting down in front of Fritz's desk, he outstretched his hoof and said, "Good morning, thank you for seeing me today, Mr...?"
"Skywing," Fritz replied, his tone measured as he organized the papers on his desk, momentarily ignoring the waiting hoof. "Tell me about yourself."
"My name is Nerdy Quirk, and I was born in Manehattan but raised here in Canterlot," he began, his tone confident as he resigned his hoof. "I attended college here at the Academy of Canterlot and obtained a degree in business and law. Additionally, I've taken up a small hobby in amateur historian research."
Fritz's brow furrowed slightly at the candidate's response. "A soulless lawyer as a curator? I'm sure that would go well with the staff," he thought to himself, a hint of skepticism creeping into his expression. He knew that a background in law could bring valuable skills to the table, but he couldn't shake the feeling that a passion for art and history was essential for the role of curator. Nevertheless, he remained composed, ready to hear more from the candidate before making any judgments.
Reviewing Nerdy Quirk's resume silently on his desk, Fritz couldn't find much to criticize about the stallion's qualifications. "I guess we should roll into the formalities of the interview," he thought, recognizing the need to proceed with the process despite his initial reservations. With a nod, he gestured for Nerdy to continue, prepared to delve deeper into his qualifications and suitability for the position.
Reviewing Nerdy Quirk's resume silently on his desk, Fritz found himself hard-pressed to identify any significant negatives about the stallion's qualifications. "I guess we should roll into the formalities of the interview," he thought to himself, mentally preparing to conduct the rest of the meeting. Clearing his throat, he addressed Nerdy. "What're your questions, Mr. Quirk?" Fritz inquired, ready to engage in a dialogue that would shed further light on the candidate's suitability for the position.
At that, Nerdy Quirk's expression shifted into an almost-know-it-all smile, and he reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small folder with a confident flourish. The gesture seemed to exude a sense of preparedness and self-assurance as he placed the folder neatly on the desk in front of him.
"Well, Mr. Skywing, I was wondering if you could review my terms and conditions for the job if I do get it... just a formality," Nerdy Quirk stated, his tone brimming with confidence. Fritz stopped what he was reading and eyed the folder with a hint of frustration. The request seemed presumptuous to Fritz, as if Nerdy were already anticipating his acceptance of the position. Nonetheless, he maintained his composure and nodded, reaching out to take the folder from the candidate.
As Fritz perused through the terms outlined in the folder, he felt a burning breath leave his beak, a mixture of surprise and frustration washing over him. "Mr. Quick," he began, only to be promptly corrected by Nerdy Quirk. "It's Quirk," the candidate interjected. Fritz felt a surge of frustration course through his body. "Right... look, I think you misunderstood the listing," Fritz continued, his tone firm. "This is for an opening for a curator, not a stockbroker. If you want these fancy demands, you'll have to work for them up the ladder like everyone else." He couldn't help but feel exasperated by Nerdy's presumptuousness, hoping to bring the conversation back to the matter at hand—Nerdy's qualifications for the role.
"Well then, sir, I must regret to inform you that I cannot work without these demands," Nerdy declared, his tone resolute as he snatched his folder and resume from the desk, shoving them away. "I hate to hear that, Mr. Quick," Fritz began, a faint smile playing on his lips. However, he was abruptly cut off by Nerdy, who gave him a small eye twitch. "IT'S QUIRK!" he exclaimed, his voice a little too loud, before storming out of the room in a huff. Fritz couldn't help but chuckle softly to himself at the exchange, shaking his head as he returned his attention to the remaining candidates awaiting their interviews.
Fritz settled back into his chair as the next interviewee entered the room. The stallion seemed to look around as if he were lost. "This is the museum, right?" he asked tentatively, prompting Fritz to blink in astonishment at the unexpected question.
The door opened again, and Fritz called out, "NEXT," prompting the stallion who looked even more lost to trot out of the office.
It took a moment for the next interviewee to enter, and during that brief pause, Fritz found himself absently looking over the list of names on his desk.
The door opened once more, and the next candidate peeked in. It was a mare with a golden, wavy mane, a light pink sherbet coat, and emerald green eyes. Her appearance was impeccably put together, exuding an aura of calm and warmth. A small smile graced her lips, adding to the welcoming air that seemed to surround her.
Fritz glanced down at the list of names, feeling a bit perplexed. "Uh, Mrs. Lovey Dovey?" he inquired, unsure if he had heard correctly.
The mare gave a small giggle. "Actually, it's Harmony Hearts," she corrected gently. Fritz furrowed his brow as he searched for the name on the paper but couldn't find it. "I'm sorry, Miss Hearts, but I don't see your name here," he admitted, puzzled. Harmony's smile didn't falter. "Oh, well, my mother's name is actually Lovey Dovey. I submitted my application through the mail, so I think her name was attached to the address or something... I don't know," she explained, her smile brightening the room.
Fritz sat there, contemplating his next move. "Very well, Mrs. Hearts, tell me about yourself," he finally said. Harmony beamed in response. "Oh, well, I attended the Crystal Empire's archaeological survey team that uncovered old crystal ruins. I served as a historical advisor for the Equestrian army, and I also did some volunteer work at the Ponies Community Art College," she explained enthusiastically.
Fritz was somewhat impressed by Harmony's credentials, nodding his head to motion for her to continue. "And, well, sir, Mr. Skywing... I also did some research on you," she added gently. Hearing this, Fritz shot her a confused and worried look, wondering what exactly she had uncovered.
Fritz couldn't help but feel intrigued by Harmony's statement. "Well, Mrs. Hearts, care to share?" he inquired, his curiosity piqued.
Harmony's smile widened as she continued, her tone filled with genuine interest. "It's not often we find a griffon in Equestria, let alone one from the Griffonian Empire!" Fritz blinked, surprised by her knowledge. "You attended time at Yale in art and history, then you enlisted not long after. You were at the Battle of Flowena, where you saw combat," she stated matter-of-factly. Fritz grew more silent, his thoughts racing as he processed her words.
Fritz took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking. "Two things wrong, Mrs. Hearts," he began, his tone measured. She blinked, a look of curiosity crossing her features. "Oh, I'm sorry, what did I get wrong?" she asked, eager to correct any inaccuracies.
"I was conscripted, not enlisted and i didn't see combat...i barley made it to the front line before i was blown up by a stray mortar. Fritz almost sounded grave.
"Oh...i'm sorry mr.skywing" she avoided eye contact out of embarresment.
Fritz forced a smile, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. "Well, change of topic," he said, pushing aside his own emotions. "What are your questions?" he asked, hoping to shift the focus back to Harmony and her qualifications for the position.
Harmony smiled again, her demeanor gracious and understanding. "None, sir," she replied softly. "Now, I know I'm supposed to ask at least one, but I think you know if I got the job or not, sir," she stated kindly. "You seem busy, so I don't want to waste your time." Her words were considerate, and Fritz couldn't help but appreciate her thoughtfulness.
Fritz sat there for a moment, contemplating Harmony's words. "Well, Mrs. Hearts, with the other two applicants disqualified, I think it's safe to say you've earned the job," he said, a genuine smile breaking through his usual reserve. It felt odd to smile, but in this moment, he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and satisfaction. Harmony's qualifications and demeanor had won him over, and he was confident that she would excel in the role.
Harmony let out a little squeal of excitement. "I'm sorry, but this is such an amazing opportunity! Thank you so, so much, Mr. Skywing," she exclaimed, her enthusiasm palpable. Without hesitation, she forcefully grabbed his claw and shook it eagerly, her gratitude shining through her actions.
Fritz was taken aback a bit by Harmony's exuberance but quickly regained his composure. "Of course, Mrs. Hearts. I'm confident you'll do great," he replied warmly, returning her handshake with a firm grip.
"so when do I start sir?" she smiled.
"Tomorrow at 9 AM it is then," Fritz confirmed with a nod. "I'll lead you through your responsibilities and so on. Today, I'll finish the paperwork and make it official." He offered Harmony a reassuring smile.
"Why am I smiling again?" Fritz thought.
Author's Note
Hello readers!
this is my first story and it has no real direction other than a character battling his past and making new connections. this is gonna be a slice of life/romance story so don't expect a brutal war story, this story is about the survivors of the EAW universe.
and please let me know how you think of the story. I'm trying to go for weekly/bi-weekly updates.
