Chapter 1: Princess Luna, A Fresh Perspective
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Chapter 1: Princess Luna, A Fresh Perspective
27th of March, 3001, 1 Year After Luna’s Return, Canterlot, Equestria.
The spring is a beautiful time no matter where you go, a time where the dead come back to life, where the snow melts into beautiful rivers, a time of peace and friendship. Flowers grow from the dead brush killed by chill and winter, their petals facing upwards towards the welcoming embrace of the sun, no longer fearing the cold winter nights they hid away from. Foals run the streets more than the Guard, enjoying the warmth of the days and the chill of the nights without worry for anything else, innocent and precious. For Canterlot, spring is a time of rebuilding, for it’s been a week since the attempted invasion by Queen Chrysalis of the Green Hive. Even still the scars maar the streets, broken windows and the paint scratched on doors, while above it all sits Canterlot Palace, where the sisters rule together.
My name is Friten, I was born to a Green Changeling mother and to a Thestral father, earning me the title of Crossbreed. Unlike the other Green Changelings, I feed off of fear, and panic, much more negative emotions than the love and lust of my mother, earning me shame compared to my peers. I am no spy mistress, no warrior or conniving planner, I am an author, always having had a better time describing myself through word than through anything else. I stand taller than my peers, thinner, with wings a strange mix of leather and insect, a chitinous exoskeleton a more blue tone in color, and yellow eyes. I left my Hive shortly after the invasion, seeking to document the facts of the world, to do something with my ageless life, rather than waste it away in fiction and fantasy.
I sat in the waiting room in Canterlot Palace, having made to meet with Princess Luna first on my journey around the world. Princess Luna recently returned from her banishment, freed from the demonic influence of Nightmare Moon, and it’s safe to say she’s the freshest, yet oldest, pair of eyes in the world, seeing everything as it truly is, not as it’s pretending to be. Put simply, Luna sees through bullshit, that’s why Chrysalis took every step to ensure she never awoke during the Invasion, out of fear that Luna would immediately stomp her out.
Entering into the room, I was able to admire Luna’s form, for all that is shown behind her simple blue dress. She is muscular, more so than any other pony in Equestria, and she is tall, second only to her sister, striking a remarkable figure in the soft blues and blacks of her meeting room. Her eyes are a striking blue color, cold and warm at the same time, a mare who will observe your every move and order you into battle, a battle which she would lead, of course. Her mane and tail are twinkling starlight, reminding any who view her of just what she is, more than just body and muscle, she is a wise mare, a mare of the night, of thinking and starlight.
She sat across from me and poured tea for us to drink, black tea, freshly made, cooling it to a reasonable temperature with her horn. A show of power or merely a show of hospitality, or both, it’s impossible to tell with a mare such as her. She would start the conversation, leading with a simple question, her voice soft yet carrying unflinching strength behind it, “Good evening, Miss Friten. We detect you are a writer.”
I would nod, making sure to take all notes down in my notebook, taking her tea graciously and sipping from it. She would watch me all the while, not a specific suspicion due to my species as most would watch me for, but rather a general guarded and careful personality, letting me know I couldn’t get away with anything. I would sit back, my two-toned yet light voice speaking in return, “Good evening, Princess Luna, and yes, I would be. I’m sure you’ve noticed the deterioration in relations all across the world, as I have.”
She would nod as she finishes sipping, her nod strong and decisive, “Indeed we have. The strike against our nation has left others thinking we are weak, that we will not watch nor notice as they strike. The Griffons seek to retake lost land from the Minotaur to the east, the Zebras and the Hindians seek to unify into one state to the west, even the Kirin to the south are getting… antsy. Not to mention your homelands, the Changelings, a hive left in a state of chaos as a pretender takes the Green Throne, the Red Hive left to stagnate under a ruler even older than us, while the Brown and Blue do naught but sit back and watch. It feels as if the world is a string ready to snap under its own tension.”
I would look into her eyes, and tilt my head in response, inquisitive, “Perhaps, yes. You sound as if you speak from experience, Princess Luna. Given your long absence, and your long past, I was wondering if you had any unique insights from the past, which would apply here.”
Luna would look back, only to then glance away, out of a nearby window, where her moon was rising in the distance, “It’s not unique, that is true. We have seen it happen many times in our lifespan. It is ancient history, but in the collapse of the Romauian Empire, the world changed, as our father unified Equestria under his banner, the Minotaur unified under their King Cain, even the Zebra were able to take in refugees from the Romauians in order to jumpstart the development of the tribes. All of this led to later in our life, when our father was slain by King Cain, which once more caused the world to shift. Grover the First rose to fight the Minotaur menace, our uncle was driven mad with grief and wrought chaos upon the land, our other uncle locked himself in his crystal city, and even the Zebra and desperate Hindians were made to unify against an attack from the west.”
I would nod along, noticing a distant look to Luna’s eyes as she speaks, not nostalgia, but something akin to it, perhaps something a young being like myself would never understand. I would take a second before responding, “If I may, Princess Luna, what you’re saying sounds like… inflection points. There are times in history where everything happens, and in-between those times are times where nothing happens. Do you believe we are in one of those points?”
Luna would look back, taking a second before nodding, “We speak not as a Princess, but as an observer of the modern world when we say yes. As you phrase it, these ‘inflection points’ are started when an era of peace is broken, be it the Pax Romaunum, the peace brought about by my father’s presence, or the current thousand year peace, broken by the Invasion. It is impossible to say if this is a point, but all signs point to it. Acts shall happen to every country, which will shape their futures for all time to come. Griffonia shall rise and young Minotaruia shall fall, or the Griffon state may never rise again, the Zebras may achieve ancient glories, or fade away into famine and obscurity.”
I would point my pen to her as she speaks, “And what of Equestria? What do you think you shall do, Princess Luna, what will you push for, what do you hope for?”
She pauses and looks deep into my eyes, as if scanning for intention or trickery, but would relent after a quiet minute of contemplation, “We shall not share the same goals as our sister. We never have. Or, rather, we would trot a different path than she does. The Changeling Invasion has shown us all one thing, Equestria can no longer withstand to live disarmed and unprepared, or we open ourselves up to a more competent foe. We cannot rely upon the magical luck of two ponies to save us from every invasion, we were already lucky enough to survive once. We shan’t chance luck again, nor shall we test fate. Sister is a smiling imperialist, offering deals and subjugation behind smiles and kind words, we are not the same. Equestria has been the mother of the nations around us for too long, smiling and loving, it is time we remind them that ponies are more than smiles and sunshine.”
I nod once more, finishing off my tea and setting it down, “So you would have Equestria prepare itself for war? Who do you think would come after you?”
She would frown softly, before speaking in a more neutral tone, “Everyone, as it always has been. When we rose up against our sister, fellow nations watched like vultures, waiting for us to be too weak. It is only due to the coward Empress of Zebrica and the arrogant and corrupt Emperor of Griffonia being too busy in their own realms that they didn’t invade. If they were intelligent, as the Emperor Xerxes is, or had their pride bruised, as the Regents of Griffonia have, then they would have struck while we were weak. With all due respect, the Green Hive is barely a spot on a map, hardly a nation, and Chrysalis is a buffoon, yet still they almost won. The greedy Griffon and the desperate Zebra are sharks, and they smell our blood in the water.”
I write everything down quickly before leaning forward, “Princess Luna, what of other realms yet unknown? Scholars have detected odd amounts of pollution coming from the south, where the Storm Templar resided millennia ago, and the draw of magic north, through the Crystal Pass, has only increased. Do you believe these southern and northern realms hold any threat?”
She would shake her head quickly, “None that we could not face. We are Equestria, and no matter what force brought against us, no matter how powerful or how cunning, we shall be prepared.” She then stands, “Now, we are afraid that is all the time we can spare. We have courtly duties to attend to. We wish you luck in your endeavors and hope that none of what we have said shall come to pass.”
I would stand and give her a respectful bow, “Thank you for the time, Princess Luna, and have a good night.”
Spring is beautiful in Equestria, as it is a time of rebirth, a time for new life to spring from the ashes. The Canterlot Invasion was a bitter cold snap which destroyed the beautiful flowers of Equestria, withering away the roses and violets that once dominated it. But like a Phoenix, Equestria says it will rise from the ashes, and if Luna should have her way, it will be powerful, sturdy, a redwood tree in relation to the rose it used to be, sturdy and rising above all others. All along the streets, it’s easy to see that ponies are ready. Lower class, middle class, even the nobles all pitch in to help the Guard, picking up and disposing of leftover weapons, cleaning up dried blood, all with a smile on their face. Luna would see Equestria follow her to war, and it would seem the ponies are already in lockstep.
The logical next step would be to talk to Princess Celestia, but I would prefer to wait to talk to her for later, perhaps as my final chapter. For now, I head east on a train to Manehatten, so I may take a train over to Griffonheim, new capital of Griffonia, where I shall interview the Regents and then the child Emperor himself. Luna sees a future of war after being attacked, it will be interesting to see how the Griffons view it differently.
Signed Friten the Crossbreed, March 27th, 3001, may my trip remain safe.
Author's Note
Hello everyone.
So, I’m writing something new, and I don’t plan to abandon this one. I’ve realized over my long writing career that I’m not really made to write big stakes adventures, they never turn out how I want them to. So instead, I’m taking a new route, focusing entirely on a character and their adventure through the world. I hope everyone enjoys it.
Chapter 2: The Regents, Old, Noble, and Prideful
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Chapter 2: The Regents, Old, Noble, and Prideful
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.
April 14th, 3001, 4 Years After Third Minotaur Conflict, Arcainia, Minotauria.
It’s been two weeks since my last journal entry, and this has happened for many reasons. Firstly, it’s been a busy two weeks, there was an assassination attempt on Emperor Xerxes the Younger of Zebrica, and a revolt of Hindia-occupied Algae Area and Arcturia, which used to be the northernmost Zebrican cities. There was also a meeting of the newly founded Harmonic Defensive Pact, a pact founded between Equestria, Saddle Arabia, and the Deer of the north. Sadly for my journal, those events are more important to the Minotaurian government than a changeling wanting to ask questions.
The city of Arcainia has always been admired for one thing, its functionality. Ever since King Cain took it over from the Storm Templar and rebuilt it from the ashes, Arcainia has been a utilitarian architect’s paradise, every building is built with a purpose in mind. Even the streets are narrow, to allow for defense, for pedestrians to walk around, and to stop potential revolts from being able to find much power. The buildings are all wood and stone, not a bit of gold or jewel wasted for appearance, except in the old Griffonian temples scattered around from when the Griffons owned the city.
It turns out I was wrong about the Minotaur’s style of government, as most would have others believe it is a monarchy much like Griffonia and Equestria, with nobles abound. But as I’ve learned during my time here, Minotauria’s Queen, Gold-Horn, leader of the revolution, is nothing more than a figurehead. Instead, all the politics are handled by Parliament, a democratically elected representative body who votes on legislation, headed by Prime Minoster Neville Silver-Heart, who I also plan to have a meeting with.
Queen Gold-Horn, full name Barbara Gold-Horn, is what would be expected of a leader of a revolution, the prime example of a female Minotaur. She stands tall, taller than Celestia by far, with muscles along her arms, her legs, and her stomach which are the size of foals, enough to crush someone without a weapon in sight. She takes a seat, looking impatient, her body covered in scars from hard-fought battles. She pours a clear liquid into a mug for herself, likely vodka, given the tastes of Minotaur, and snorts while motioning to me with a hand, “Talk, I don’t have all day.”
I would righten my posture as she speaks, her voice one of a trained leader, used to giving quick and short commands in the heat of battle, “Queen Gold-Horn, it’s a pleasure. I can see you’re eager to start, so I’ll begin. My first question is this, what caused you to lead the revolution, the Third Minotaur Conflict?”
She cracks a grin and lifts her mug, drinking down a lot of the heavily alcoholic drink, before lowering it, “Others will tell you a propaganda story about how my parents were killed by Griffons cracking down, but that’s not true. Truth is, someone had to do it, and nobody else was stepping up to the plate. So one day, when I saw a knight harassing a cow, I stepped in, hit him, caused a fight. Before I knew it, the whole garrison was coming down at me, and the whole of the city was stood behind me. From there, we just kept growing, and kept going, a fire in our hearts.”
I nod to her, and decide to drink my own drink, a dark brandy provided before she arrived, clearing my throat before speaking, “And what of the Minotaur who didn’t follow you? Who instead helped the Griffons? Do you view them as traitors?”
She grins wider, a well practiced expression, one she wears a lot, “Traitors? No, I view them as scared, and they’re damn right to be scared. When shit started going down, we didn’t have a plan, equipment, supplies, we were just angry and sending a message. We went up against the second most powerful empire in the world, right behind Equestria, armed with nothing but farming tools and anger. So yeah, I’d be fucking scared too, shit, I was scared the entire time. If it wasn’t for Griffon republicans having supply lines and feeding us weapons and intel, and the Equestrian Pink Butterflies, we would have failed and been crushed.”
She is certainly a brash speaker, one who doesn’t hold anything back. She speaks with her chest, no hiding intentions or fancy wordplay, it’s a bit refreshing to see, “That leads into my new question, why a republic? Did you become a republic simply because of the assistance of those Griffon republicans or was it because of an ideological want from you?”
She laughs, a deep, hearty laugh, ending it by drinking more, before setting her mug back down, “Ideological? I don’t have an ideology. I became a leader because I was good at leading, but if you want my opinion on taxes, welfare, communeighsts, I wouldn’t be able to answer them. We became a republic because I didn’t want power, just freedom, and so the intellectuals around the country worked to make a new system. And though I think Neville is a spineless coward who can’t hold his drink, he’s my Prime Minoster, so cheers to him. I know that isn’t what you want to hear, but shit, that’s what I think.”
It’s hard to not crack a small smile around her, even I can’t resist. It is true, though, that isn’t the answer I wanted, as it means a lot of questions will likely not have much answer, which just means it will be for Neville to answer. I once more drink my brandy and nod once it’s down and swallowed, “I think it’s refreshing to hear a leader who’s so honest, even if you truly aren’t a leader anymore. It’s obvious that you love your country, and your people. Truly, all I’m left to ask at this point is one more question. When you reached Griffonheim, why did you execute Grover the Ninth?”
Her good cheer decreases, though it doesn’t entirely disappear, as she answers, “Because it needed to be done. We needed to send a message to Griffonia that we were serious, that the war wouldn’t just end, unless we got our freedom. Now, either we could push further north, losing thousands of lives on both sides, or we could kill one cock and send the same message. I’m not happy about that moment at all, though he kept occupation of us, I do think the Ninth was probably a fine cock, one I’d want to share a drink with if there was an afterlife.”
It would take me a moment to digest her answer, before nodding once more, “Why make the Tenth watch?”
That would get rid of her good mood entirely, with her standing suddenly, turning around and looking at a nearby tapestry, showing the events of the First Minotaur Conflict, as she begins to slowly speak, “To make sure he wouldn’t seek revenge. Enough blood was shed already, enough pain, enough death. So we had to show him, and their top generals, exactly what would happen if it started again. I don’t know if I made the right decision. I question it a lot. Maybe someday I’ll apologize to him, if they ever let me go into their cities. All I know is that we won.” She snorts softly, and walks out wuicjlt after that, without a goodbye.
I would sit and think for a few minutes after, before the door opens, Prime Minoster Neville Silver-Heart entering in. He is, in many ways, the opposite of Gold-Horn, wearing a well-done suit, a small hat on his head, and with a much more slim body, though he is likely still strong enough to kill. He gives me a small smile and a tip of his hat as he sits across from me, offering new drinks, a honey mead made locally. As soon as he’s situated, he would speak, his voice professional and trained from hours of talking, “Good afternoon, Miss Friten, terrible apologies for the delay on this meeting. Very important and surprising events, of course, took the whole government off guard.”
I would take the drink and have a small sip, it’s fairly good, even if strong, making me quickly put it down, “Good Evening, Prime Minoster. If you might, would you mind reminding my readers of the events, and your reaction to them?”
He nods readily and speaks quickly, “The attempt on Xerxes’ life by the Chief of Bongo, Almohad, was a horrible attempt at a coup, and I wish all good health to Xerxes. The Zebrican Empire has always enjoyed a certain type of decentralization, more a collection of tribes working together than a proper empire, but in response to the ongoing famine, Xerxes’ attempts to centralize are good. Only with Zebrica marching as one could Xerxes truly utilize all the resources given to him, and I wish good luck to him, as I did when I visited him last week. The revolts against Hindia from the occupied Zebrican territories were violent tragedies, and the fifteen lives lost were fifteen too many, but it is a sign to the Hindian Premier that the occupation is wrong, and unpopular. As an occupied people ourselves, for many, many years, we know well the struggle and taste for freedom that Algae Area and Arcturia feel.”
I nod along to his answer, writing it down. His speech is well done, polite, open to his allies, yet not hostile to those he disagrees with, a true politician’s response. I look back up after a bit, “Many might question why you support the centralization efforts of Xerxes and don’t support the only other republic known to the world, Hindia. Many might assume that you and Hindia are close friends due to ideological similarities.”
He quickly shakes his head, “Ideology does not determine the morality of an action, rather the amount of blood spilled and the purpose fulfilled. If you are a monarch or a representative, even if you’re a dictator or an oligarch, you are equal. What makes the difference is what you do with the power vested into you. Xerxes is a monarch removing some republic-style power from the Chiefs, but he is doing so for the good of his people. Whoever we support, it is not out of ideological gain nor similarity, rather, it is out of a want for peace in our time.”
As he speaks, I sip more, and begin to ask another question. Before I can, however, an aide enters the room and quickly approaches him, whispering into his ear, making his eyes go wide. The aide walks out, and I ask him, “What was that?”
He looks at me, a small sadness behind his eyes, before nodding, “You should know if anyone should, Miss Friten. The Changelings are in a civil war. I need to go, I’m sorry.” He stands and quickly leaves, leaving me behind.
The Changelings are in a civil war? I knew there would be some difficulty after the failed Invasion, but a civil war? Not just the Green Hive, then, but other Hives must be involved. That’s not happened, ever, changelings don’t fight each other, we barely have enough to live off of as is. I need to investigate.
Signed Friten the Crossbreed, April 14th, 3001.
