Ivory Towers

March 31st, 3001, 4 Years After Third Minotaur Conflict, Griffonheim, Griffonian Empire.

Griffonheim is a city of strength and pride, representing its residents perfectly. Hens wearing loose white robes travel the streets to prey upon those without company, Griffons wearing heavy armor, Der Ritters, patrol the streets and ensure the peace, as Griffons go from shop to temple to work, republicans and revolutionaries slink where none can see them, away from the sight of their gods and their royalty. If Equestria was once a rose, then Griffonia is an oak, study and unbending.

When King Grover the First of Griffonstone and his wife Queen Isabella of Griffonheim first met, it was when the Minotaur had unified and pushed north, seeking to conquer everything, the First Minotaur Conflict. They were both warriors and natural born warriors, the blood of Boreas flowing through them both, and it was when they pushed the Minotaur back from Romau that they fell for each other. Their armies unified, and all other Kings and Queens either bent the knee or they were forced to under the shared threat of the Minotaur. While Equestria suffered after the death of Celestia and Luna’s father, under Discord, Griffonia thrived, as Grover’s four hundred year reign led them to prosperity not seen since Romau fell.

A marriage from one of their rulers, Brantbeak the Second, to the Ruby Queen secured their dominion over the Diamond Dog lands, which scared the Minotaur. A great King, descendent of Cain, known as Able Piast, unified the Minotaur and led them once more north, where they would push north to Romau, almost cutting off the Griffons from any outside aid. But the militarist, Grover the Second, and a peasant turned hero, Julia Mars, led a counter attack against the Minotaur, subjugating them under the Griffonian state, so the Minotaur could never rise again to threaten their state.

One thousand and five hundred years passed of Minotaur subjugation, but as the new millennia started, 2001, eighty years after the banishment of Nightmare Moon, Griffonia lost their Grovers, needing to rely on cousin lines, the Carolingians who were merchant lords, and the Van Torsts who were corrupt bureaucrats. Due to this, the Minotaur never grew peaceful with subjugation, even when the Grovers returned to lead. In 2995, 5 years before Luna’s return, a Minotaur, Gold-Horn, would lead a revolt of the Minotaur, the Third Minotaur Conflict.

Grover the Ninth was leader, a reformer and just at heart, he was unprepared for the conflict, and even his top generals, Ferdinand Murkbeak and Gruff, could not beat back the Minotaur. It all came to an end when the Minotaur took Griffonstone, nearly burning it to the ground, and taking revenge upon the Griffons. They made the generals, and the young Prince Grover the Tenth, watch as Grover the Ninth was beheaded, before leaving, taking their independence and much of the southern lands, such as the Diamond Dog lands and some southern Griffonian cities.

Whenever you are reading this, dear reader, I’m sure you will question why I have deposited so much information all at once. Perhaps all of this is obvious, as the new Griffon superpower takes over the world, or perhaps it’s useless, as the Griffons were crushed in a Fourth Conflict. To truly understand the three regents is to understand the history they work with, that is why their history is so important. All three of them have suffered due to the past, or thrived.

In the Imperial Palace, I sit, awaiting the arrival of the first regent, Lady-Regent Eleanore Carolingian, and I reflect upon the differences between this palace and Canterlot. Canterlot is a show of power through opulence, stained glass so Celestia’s sun is always on your mind, marble and gold to show wealth, and large ceilings to show the master-work of pony engineering. The Imperial Palace is very different, as paintings fill the walls of Emperors past, Emperor Erich Von Vost Van Vost of Griffonheim and Brodfeld of the Holy Griffonian Empire of the 21st Century (yes, this is his full title), Emperor Grover the Fourth, the Lost Prince of Grover the Fifth, and many others. The ceiling is low and the walls are made of thick stone, this palace is not one made for power through opulence, but power through defense. Any attack trying to get through these halls would be destroyed piecemeal. To put it simply, Chrysalis would never be able to assail these halls, her changelings would be butchered.

Lady-Regent Eleanore enters now, her feathers a bright white color, ending in black at their tips, while her eyes are a rich golden color, the color of money. She wears a dress over her form, opulent but simple, function over form, and she wears a small circlet of silver on her head, the marking of a Regent. She sits across from me and pours wine from her home city, rumored to taste like strawberries, before giving me a practiced and friendly smile. She would speak, her voice light yet loud enough to be easily heard, “Miss Friten of the Green Hive, welcome to Griffonia. Your request for meeting mentioned you are an interviewer?”

I would nod, before taking a small sip of the wine, discovering it does, indeed, have a strong flavor of strawberries. Placing it down, I would return a cordial smile to her, “Indeed, Lady-Regent, given the rather complicated circumstances of the world. I’ll start off with an easy question, how is the Emperor doing?”

Her smile would become less practiced and more genuine, brightening up her expression, “Grover may be young, twelve, four years from his crown, but he is as intelligent as any Griffon I have met. He has a curious mind, always seeking to know the how and why of anything that he discovers. It drives his tutor mad, but it gives me pride to see him discover and explore so much. He’s recently started to learn how to fight with the family longsword, though the sword is almost as big as he is, and we’ve even built him an entire library so he can consume as many books as he wants. He’s in good health and in good spirits.”

My smile would also become a bit more genuine, “I’m sure he’ll be the one asking most of the questions when I interview him. I am glad you accepted my request for an interview, Lady-Regent, I must imagine you have very many important duties.”

She nods, “More than you would guess, meetings with industrialists, and my fellow nobles, all of whom seek for either their own profit or to profit off of the Emperor himself. Much as I hate to say it, Griffons have become greedy over time, they care less of loyalty to their Emperor and more about the bits they can fit in their vaults. Pride is there, but it always has been, this is just the most bruised it has been in a long, long while. Every other day a noble comes demanding we declare war upon the Minotaur, and it’s only been through the efforts of the Archon and I that we have avoided such a thing from occurring.”

I would return the nod, writing down every answer as she says it, “How do you feel about that proposal? Of one day going to war with the Minotaur?”

She takes a second to pause and think, before speaking, “It can’t happen like we are, I know that much. We are bruised and battered, we still have yet to repair Griffonstone, or even retrieve the Idol from the Abyssal Abyss. Our experienced fighters are retired, senile, or maimed, and all that remains are either xenophobes, prideful children, or religious zealots. When the Third Conflict happened, we lost because we lacked good leaders, good soldiers, and because we lacked aid. The Minotaur had Equestrian medics, they hired Centaur tribes from the west, not to mention the many traitors seeking to fill their pockets here. Even our oldest allies, the Red Changelings, failed to answer the call, Queen Adobla too scared to bring war to her Hive. I do not have an opinion beyond that, it should be the Emperor’s decision on what to do.”

I would nod once more and sip the wine, setting it down gently, “Speaking of war and changelings, what do you think of the Canterlot Invasion? Rumors do say that Queen Chrysalis was blasted to the east, towards Griffonia.”

She nods in return and takes a sip of her own wine, “If Chrysalis were ever to show up in our lands, we would bring her in, give her food and shelter, and then try her for her crimes in a Griffon court. Equestria was not the only country harmed by that invasion, many Griffon owned businesses in Canterlot did, and were forced to go out of business due to the ramping up of pony xenophobia. The Canterlot Invasion was not a surprise, it was expected, a natural reaction to the actions of Equestria. Celestia is an imperialist, and to her ponies, all of the world is Equestrian and we other creatures are merely squatting. She makes moves against the Buffalo with her settler colonists, she bought the Shogun of Neighpon with promises of aid and fishing, even now she sends ‘aid workers’ to Zebrica to help their famine, a fanciful way to disguise building reliance upon her.”

I take a second to tap my pen against the notepad, a bit nervous to ask my next question, but I would after a second, “Ans what of Griffonia? How do they react to Equestrian imperialism?”

She would frown slightly, “Griffonia was, for the longest time, the equal to Equestria, no war could be fought between us without being a tie, and no action could be taken against the other. When the Minotaur revolted, Celestia showed her claws by sending them medics and aid, ensuring their veterans would be spry and healthy, while our own are in no fighting state. Celestia seeks to be alone atop the world, and she seeks for Griffonia to fall and never rise back. We shall do as we always have done, we will recover, and we will stand against it. We are Griffonia, we were forged in fire, and we may bend, but will never fall.”

I nod once more, “I see. All of that is very interesting, Lady-Regent, and I believe my readers will quite like you for your insight into Griffonian politics. I don’t have any more questions for you in particular, but it has been a wonderful meeting. I hope your day goes well, and do ensure to set up the Emperor for a meeting once I return from my interviews with the Diamond Dogs and Minotaur.”

She nods and stands, “Of course, Miss Friten. You have been very respectful. Your questions have been short and to the point. I do hope the other Regents shall answer your questions with the same grace as I. Farewell.” She would bow her head before leaving the room.

Almost immediately would come in the next Regent, Regent-Archon Eros, Archon of Boreas, leader of all things related to the god of law and justice. He is an old Griffon, having seen the passing of three Emperors in his lifespan, one of age, one sickness, and one executed, and having seen the birth and blessed three others. He wears the robes of his position, gold in color, and a silver necklace around his neck. He moves slowly, but despite his age, uses no assistance to move, taking a seat in front of me slowly. He speaks in a slightly raspy voice, one which has said too many words over his long life, “Greetings, Miss Friten. I would prefer getting to the questions quickly. I am expected by the Emperor shortly.”

I nod, and bow my head to him slightly, “Archon-Regent, it is an honor to meet you. I’ll start us off simple, tell me about yourself, and about the Emperor.”

He would slowly lean back, taking a breath out, “I was an orphan at a young age, taken in by the temple and named after an ancient word for love, Eros, because I cared for all those around me. I swiftly moved up the ranks because I cared for all, even those outside the temple, and drew them in for food, and shelter during storms. I met Archon Rosabeth during that time, she was, and still is, my closest friend, even if her spirituality is more… physical than my own. That was during the reign of Grover the Seventh, and I was made an Archon on the same day as his son’s birth. I remember quite fondly how I rushed from one ceremony to another, as they were only five minutes apart and halfway across town.” He then chuckles, “My wings have felt tired since! I’ve always been close to the Emperors, and it is due to me that many of them have cared so deeply about their people. The Eighth, cursed with cancer early in his life, was a kind soul who wished to build a social safety net like none seen ever before, a Great Society, he called it. The Ninth was less ambitious, but he opened up the halls of power to commoners, allowing them to take positions only lords would have before then. Now the Tenth is here, and I can only hope to make him the same.”

I would smile slightly, Eros reminding me of my own grandparents, with very long pasts and many stories to tell, though not much time to tell it, “Do you view the Emperor as family? And what is it that makes you care so much for the commoner?”

He smiles softly in return, “I am not related to him, but if I were, I would be proud. If he were to call me his father, his uncle, his godfather, I would be beyond happy, beyond prideful. Never have I seen a Griffon as naturally inquisitive and charismatic as him, I can only barely keep him contained with strict measures.” He then pauses, and leans back, his back cracking a bit as he does, “When Griffons were made, out of the union of Boreas and Eyr, they were not created separate. There was no King nor noble before the time of Romau, just Griffons, and that hasn’t changed. A lord is no more deserving of power than a commoner, only the Emperor deserves power, as they are blessed by Boreas and ordained to rule. Griffonia is named after what it’s made out of, Griffons. Most Griffons are not nobles sitting in ivory towers, but farmers, soldiers, crafters and hunters who will only see a pittance of the gold of a noble in their whole life. It helped provide stability in past times, but Griffonia no longer needs stability, but prosperity, and peace, and plenty.”

I would blink upon hearing his expression, ‘ivory towers’. Some say the expression comes from an ancient tale where the Hippogriff lord of Pompneigh built a giant obelisk of ivory outside of Romau, just so he could have a view as his soldiers looted it. Perhaps that could make a good title for this book, Ivory Towers, where the rich and powerful sit to watch the poor die. After that thought, I would continue, “With all that in mind, what do you think of the Minotaur, and the recent invasion of Canterlot?”

His soft smile would become a small frown, “Chrysalis has been Queen for a thousand years, ever since Nightmare Moon’s banishment, and I fear she used that time to prepare for this invasion. The invasion was a travesty, breaking a thousand years of peace in our lands, beyond the failed war of Xerxes the Older in Zebrica and the Minotaur Conflict. Boreas is often symbolized as a scale, the scales of justice. If the world were a scale, Chrysalis was not just a weight towards war, but she was a fist, breaking the scale. She is a shameful coward, and deserves nothing less than an eternity in Tartarus for her crimes. The Minotaur don’t. It is a shame to admit, but we abused the Minotaur, we forced our gods upon them, our customs, our flag, and I cannot blame them for fighting back. I would hope that we can tip the scales back towards peace, that Grover may detente with them, and that we might find peace and cooperation, along with the returning of our lands.”

I would nod to him, “So you wish for peace with them?”

He nods back, as he slowly stands, moving to look out of a nearby window, “We need peace. Griffonia is bruised and battered, the griffons are hungry for food, prosperity, for someone to follow. Griffonia does not need a mighty conquest, a war, it needs time to rebuild, become better than ever before. To build a truly great society, where every Griffon, no matter their background, can stand where I do today, and do so with pride.” He looks back, “I’m afraid I must go, I’m running late. You are doing good, writing this book, I hope my words can be immortalized in it, to forever affect youth in the future. Good bye.” He bows his head, before leaving.

I would have no time to prepare before the door opens, and a coal-colored Griffon enters, his posture straight, his body muscled and slim, wearing a uniform with medals proudly presented, including one made out of bright silver. He wastes no time sitting, his scarlet red eyes looking my form up and down, before then relaxing, “Friten of the Green Hive, are you?” His voice is soft and mellow, with a slight accent to it, a small twang of the lower class, “Marshal-Regent Ferdinand Murkbeak, but please, just call me Ferdinand. How may I help a beautiful mare such as yourself?”

I would blink and take a moment to look him over, watching his body language, and even tasting his emotions, the first time I’ve done so with someone I’ve interviewed. His compliments are not paid out of niceness or as a slimy gesture to gain my favor, rather they are genuine. His emotions would taste complex and layered, anger and spite hidden deep, while compassion, love, and even a bit of lust directed towards me would be on top, sprinkled with a fine bit of fear.

He would grin softly after a second, speaking before I could, “You are a crossbreed, outcast from your own people, you’ve never been complimented on your looks before, so you are left confused when I mention you are beautiful. You think I’m lying, trying to get into your good graces, because I am a figure on top of the world, while you are one who’s crawled your way out of the mud, or sand, as it were. My words are no trickery nor forgery, just the truth, to a mare who I understand. You see, I was born to a coal miner in a poor family, with five brothers and two sisters, and I was an outcast for my colors and complexion and similar to that of the god of murder. When the war came to us, I took up arms and led a militia from my home, and every step of the way, my fellows, my higher-ups, even those below me tried to stab me in the back and toss me aside, due to my birth. But when a group of twenty peasants managed to route a hundred Minotaur warriors, securing an important supply line to the front, they had no choice but to begrudgingly accept me. I imagine you are what I would have been should that war have never passed, outcast and left to wander, seeking to leave your mark upon the world. Far more than just the beautiful mix of leather and gossamer, more than the yellow eyes which I am transfixed to, it is that inner strength, that drive, which is beautiful.”

I would be left speechless, and without a blush on a cheek, no matter what Ferdinand would try to claim in the future. He is a liar and a scoundrel. I was able to examine him closer during this time, noticing a scar on his forehead, and yet more along his neck, leading to his back, like the lashings of a whip. He would notice me notice, but instead of shying away, he would pull his uniform down a bit, allowing me vision of long whip lashes, scarred over, heading from nape to tail. This would knock me back into reality, as I would ask my first question, “Why did you fight the war if you were so rejected?”

He pulls his uniform back up, adopting a casual smile, “The same reason you write, a need to prove myself, to help others however I could. I lived in Ruby Mountain, one of many Griffons in that majority Diamond Dog land, and I knew the dogs well. They were loyal but also vicious, they would never betray one they respected, but if you haven’t earned their respect, then they would knock you down. There was many miners, both Griffon and Dog, who were abused by respectless Lords and Overseers, and I knew I could be an example to them. If I rose above it all through sheer force of will and talent, then they could do so too, they could be amazing. In addition, the Minotaur and their war struck against more than just the Lords who abused them, they killed commoners, soldiers, conscripts and took the fields, stole the silos of grain and smokehouses of meat, waging war against Griffons, not the ones who abused them. That is why I stepped up, and why I fought my hardest against them. I saved lives, common lives, outsiders, rejected, thrown aside just like me, and all I got was a title and scars. I got to watch as my Emperor was executed.”

I would watch him as he speaks, with his voice getting more and more frustrated as he goes on, a cold, simmering anger deep within, “What of General Gruff, the one you fought alongside?”

He would take a deep breath, his smile returning, more genuine, “Gruff was born to nobility, a distant descendant of Isabella herself, and of Guto, but he didn’t act like a noble. He was rude, lacked any respect, he would squawk even at the Emperor if he ordered something bad. He was the toughest son of a bitch I’ve ever met, and I’m proud to have known him. When they took Griffonstone, he tried to make me leave, but I didn’t, that Griffon deserved better than to die alone in those ruins, and believe me, I got an earful for that. The Minotaur were carrying the Emperor to the chopping block.” He loses his smile, “The child was there by my side. He didn’t understand anything that was going on, he was just scared of the fire, the smell of blood. He didn’t deserve to be there, no Griffon did. Eros was there, trying to distract him, hide him away, and Gruff was to my side, the two of us surrounded by three guards, and their Queen. They brought the Emperor out, and me and the old Griffon looked at each other, and we rushed into action. He took out one guard while I rushed their Queen, but they reacted too quickly, they grabbed my tail and pulled me away when my talons were an inch away from her neck. They forced the both of us to be punished, and Gruff, the old bastard, he demanded that they punish him, as he was the senior officer, literally. So they cut his eye, drove him half-blind, now a one-eyed Arimaspi, and for me, they decided I’d get a whipping. All while forced to watch as my Emperor had his head cut off in front of his son.”

I would take a second after the end of his answer, before slowly reaching forward with a hoof, resting it upon his leg. He needed it, his eyes had become distant, his emotions shifting, painful and violent, hateful. The touch of my hoof would make him look down at it, and at me, before reaching down to grab and squeeze it with his claws, then releasing it. I would pull back, and ask again, “With all this said, what about the modern Minotaur? Does the Canterlot Invasion affect your opinion on anything?”

He once more takes a deep breath and nods, “The Invasion was a blow against Equestria, who aided our enemy, and it’s made them scared enough where they wouldn’t do it again. I don’t want revenge against the Minotaur, no. Just the Queen. Just their generals, their leaders, who sacrificed thousands of lives for nothing but the change of a flag. Who were cruel enough to kill a father in front of his own son. We might have done wrong against the Minotaur, but I don’t give a fuck, no amount of harm justifies that death, that pointless cruelty. I won’t sacrifice my Griffons like they threw away their Minotaurs, no. We will bring justice to them, and this war won’t be one of nobles and conscripts. I want to reinvent warfare in a single war, Friten, an army of volunteers, angry with righteous fury, who will march upon their capital and not stop until justice is wrought. Let the Minotaur have their freedom, or let them join me, it’s their choice, but if they protect the one who killed them, who killed those like you and me… then they deserve nothing less than death.” He takes a deep breath once more, letting it out slowly, “I do apologize, I would wish we could talk about more pleasant topics.”

I nod to him and give him a small smile in return, “If I didn’t want your answer, I wouldn’t ask the questions. I have just one more question, what do you feel about the Emperor?”

He takes a second to think, tapping his claws against the arm of the chair, before slowly speaking, “I think the Emperor is like us. An outcast. He’s an orphan who’s been caught in a three way battle between his regents, victim of feckless nobles and priests vying for his attention, forced to become a leader even if it seems like he would rather be a scholar. He watched his father die, and he emerged curious, with a drive, like you, like me, and he’s a leader like none I’ve ever seen before. Grover is just a Griffon who’s has power thrust upon him, unready and unwilling, yet still he takes it in stride. I hope one day he will be able to do what he wants, instead of what others force him to be, but no matter what, I know he will excel.”

I smile softly and nod, “All of you seem to agree on that. I suppose I’ll have to see about that myself when I visit again to interview him.” I would stand from the chair, “Thank you for your time and your honesty, Ferdinand, but I must go if I wish to make it to the Minotaurs by April Second.”

He smiles and would stand as well, offering a claw, “Now, it would be unbecoming for me to allow a beautiful mare leave unescorted. Please, allow me to take you to the train station.”

Once more completely unfazed and not flustered at all by his offer, no matter what others might claim, I would calmly say, with no stutter to my voice at all, despite the allegations, “That’s acceptable.” I would thusly leave with him by my side, not holding his claw, and any pictures taken which may or may not show me holding his claw are forgeries and should be forever forgotten. They’re false. I am not a mare who gets flustered. I realize now you likely don’t care, since I’ve likely been dead for centuries at this point, but still. No. It didn’t happen, it simply didn’t. False. Untrue. Nobody can say anything else, this is my book.

Leaving Griffonheim on a train south, I would reflect upon all I’ve seen. The Lady-Regent seems to be the most mixed of the bunch, her opinions complicated, seeing hostility from all sides, yet lacking the initiative to act upon those hostile, instead leaving it to the Emperor. She is on top of the ivory tower, showing no care for the common Griffon, but instead for the nation itself, as a whole. The Archon-Regent is old and has seen much death and life, yet still he sees everything from on top of that ivory tower, as part of the temple, he was born halfway up it, lacking the perspective from the base of it all. He wants to change things through peace and cooperation, believing there to be a better way for everything, be it true or false. He’s too old to want anything more than that gradual improvement. Ferdinand is a charming firebrand who’s clawed up the ivory tower from the very base, building a ladder on the way for others like him to follow. Despite the pain, and suffering, and rejection, he accepts those who accept him, and is evidently intelligent, and clever. He does seem to seek war, but he doesn’t wish to watch from on high, but rather lead the charge, for justice more than anything.

The Griffons all agree on one thing, the child Emperor is a wonder, and he will lead them into a golden age, be it through hook or crook. All of them spoke on the war, sharing a variety of perspectives on it. I travel now to the city of Arcainia, named after King Cain, where Queen Gold-Horn awaits me. Every conflict has two sides, after all.

Signed Friten the Crossbreed, March 31st, 3001, apparently a beautiful mare.