Die Sonne scheint jederzeit auf das Griffonischen Reich

by Aydan Zamora

Rating: everyone
Tags: Princess Celestia, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Equestria at War, Other, Drama
Length: 10416

A short story where a griff learns, that Iclawrus' fall had nothing to do with the wax.

A story written in the Equestria at War universe, which is an MLP mod for the grand strategy game Hearts of Iron IV.

The question of who the Greatest Emperor of Griffonia is, has fascinated historians and hobbyists alike for decades if not centuries. To many it would be Grover, first of his name, the founder of the Griffonian Empire. Others say his son Grover II, the Conqueror of Griffonia.

However if we were to measure the success of an emperor in anything other than his ability to paint the map with his colours, the answer might very well be Grover III. The Gray Bird of Griffenheim was known for his administrative reforms, his openness to integrate the many nationalities of his empire, and his uncharacteristically cordial relations with Equestria. These combined with the boons of the first industrial revolution ushered in an unprecedented era of development for the citizens of the empire.

But how did the descendant of conquerors turn into the peaceful, amicable, and - according to every 8th grade history student - most boring emperor in history?

This story was written for the seventh annual Equestria at War writing contest.

Though his universal superiority leaves little hope I could ever recompense all the effort he has put in my work, (though let's be honest, I'm still paying him more hourly than his job as a PhD student) I'd be remiss not to laud the Greatness of the Scribbly One, who helped me bring this story to you in a way that is actually readable.

Published 2024-08-31 22:10:00 UTC
Last updated 2024-08-31 22:10:00 UTC

Chapter 1

International politics, as Grover the Third often found, were mostly about pettiness. Pettiness can take many forms, even something as small as scheduling can be used to slight, if done meticulously enough. For example, the Princess’ arrival was scheduled at 8:30 just as the Sun came up behind the castle’s silhouette. This served multiple purposes. First, it was a symbol that while the sun sets on the west, it rises on the east. Second, it made sure that through the entire duration of their conversation, the Sun would be shining on the capital of Griffonkind. But most importantly, this was so that as the Princess of Ponykind would walk down the red carpet she would have to look into the ascending Sun behind the palace. It just felt right to make the Princess squint all the way down as she approached him, blinded by the very Sun, about which the unfounded rumours concerning its true master’s identity she was reluctant to renounce.

As the carriage came into view, Grover basked in the light of the cruel irony of the next step of his plan of a thousand pinpricks even if this one probably didn’t sting in actuality. Because this, though it was cleaned and refurbished befitting a princess, was the very carriage by which the pretender Gaspard Descret—the last monarch to question the absolute rule of the von Griffenheim House—was brought to Grover’s father years ago. A creative attempt to quench the late Emperor’s unceasing thirst for vengeance and violence. Whether it was successful, or merely a meaningless gesture was questionable. Less so than his choice of commanding Gaspard’s daughter to watch him bash Gaspard's skull in with his bare claws. A pointless act of sadism at minimum, an example for any at best, young Grover had long suspected it was more than either. A warrior through and through, his father valued obedience above all—this ultimate expression of that trait was the very first step Griselda took as she walked down the proverbial, then later literal, aisle.

Of course, being towered over by the giant of a griff Grover II was, surrounded by many of his elite guardgriffs, doing as she is told spoke less of obedience than it did of righteous fear. However, Grover knew the only thing his father held in near equal regard to obedience was honesty. And no matter how many witnesses Grover asked, not one said that his father had threatened Giselda with anything had she disobeyed. Neither did he physically force her to watch the carnage. He simply commanded her to do it. A trivial difference to most given the circumstances, but Grover was certain, as the carriage pulled into the castle that fateful day, his father was not planning to marry Griselda Descret. And no matter what the reason of her ability to watch her father die was, it ended up making her the only griff Grover II had ever loved.

As the infamous carriage now approached its destination, it became clear it was not pulled by the four mares he had chosen, but by four of Celestia’s pegasus guardponies. An understandable change well within the purview of any dignitary, but it did spoil another of Grover’s slights. In Equestria, being cartpony was a job like any other. In Griffonia, however, while the empire's laws strictly prohibited slavery, ponies in these kinds of professions were considered the lowest of the lows. No coincidence ponies were chosen to pull the cart of the chained and disgraced Discrets—ponies of this stature not being slaves was mostly a nominal difference. One that was heavily pushed by Princess Celestia herself, who embargoed the budding empire until it ceased the practice. Fighting multiple wars at the time, Grover’s grandfather was all but forced to accept. For his part, Grover was giddy to show off how well the Empire really treated their ponies.

The carriage arrived next to the red carpet and the stallions quickly removed their yokes before opening the door for the Princess. Though he’d seen many pictures of the Princess before, seeing her in public, he had to admit she was every bit as radiant as described. From hooves to horn, the bright white alicorn just emanated a sort of ethereal perfection. Her radiance enhanced by her gold accessories and ever-flowing magical mane, were perfectly matched by the effortless elegance of her every hoofstep. But her most mesmerising feature was, without a doubt, her eyes. The rich magenta irises framing large pupils full of the unsmotherable joy so emblematic of her kind, shone with the wisdom of the ages. Grover finally understood how she was the only creature his father went out of his way not to cross.

Grover compelled himself to tear off his gaze to make his stare less embarrassing, instead looking at the guards following her in a V formation. Forced to sit through every Imperial military parade since he was eight, he had seasoned insight as to what constituted a good march; the training of the four guard ponies was eerily impeccable. The ridiculous bodily standards (or equally impressive magical veneer) of the Royal Guard were, of course, well known to Grover, but seeing them march in the flesh? It honestly made his skin crawl. Not only was he unable to spot a single millisecond of rushing or dragging in any of their steps, despite his keen griffish eyes, they even breathed in unison

Grover looked back at the Princess to discern something, anything about her, but her unwavering, polite smile veiled any emotion. What he did notice was that though she blinked regularly, his carefully prepared scheme hadn’t work. The supposed Sovereign of the Sun neither flinched nor squinted. However, he couldn’t much ponder on his failure, as Celestia now stood before Grover; he immediately reached forth to scoop up Celestia’s right foreleg and with a quick bow of his head he said:

“Welcome Princess Celestia, Griffonheim is honoured by your presence.“

“Thank you Grover von Griffonheim; visiting your Empire is always a privilege,” Celestia answered, mirroring the bow, before putting her hoof down.

“It is humbling to carry the rich heritage of my father and grandfather, but my plight is made light through the light in the hearts of my 30 million subjects,” Grover accepted the compliment, placing his right claw over his heart.

“It is the one true reward a sovereign could ask for,” Celestia nodded in agreement, a content smile on her face.

After exchanging more meaningless pleasantries, customary gifts—the value of which matched only by their pointlessness—and an obligatory palace tour that Grover felt he partook in more times than Celestia saw winter, they finally arrived at lunch. Here, Grover set up another inconvenience for Celestia. Obviously it being a griffish feast, with the majority of dishes including meat. Ponies, being herbivores, wouldn’t willingly touch such dishes. Thus it would have been a faux pas crying to the heavens not to have prepared a vegetarian option. And so he had. Gruel. Supposedly the highest quality gruel made of the finest oats and spices the empire had to offer prepared by a well-regarded pony chef—but no matter how it’s prepared or presented, gruel will look like slop.

Then Princess Celestia proceeded to eat every freaking chicken on the table and leave the gruel untouched.

After the lunch, Grover knew his official duties as the host of this summit were fulfilled, and as such could finally ask: “Well, Good Princess, as much as it is both an honour and pleasure to have you in my ancestral halls, I must admit it is quite perplexing you’ve asked for this audience, especially how adamant you’ve sounded in your letter.”

“Indeed I was,” Celestia nodded, then leaned over to Grover’s ear to whisper. “However, the topics I’m meaning to touch upon are fairly sensitive. May we talk somewhere a little more private?”

Grover nodded and with a flick of his claws he sent away all his griffs accompanying them so far. Then he led the Princess and her still perfectly synchronised—and given they hadn’t touched a single dish from the lunch table, apparently ascetic—guards to the doors of the private workroom of his father.

“Here we’re not going to be disturbed. But that also means your dashing guardsponies must stay here and stand post with mine. Or I can give them quarters as necessary.”

“Oh it wouldn’t be,” The Princess smiled and turned towards her entourage. “If I may?” Celestia asked, pointing at her horn. Grover nodded with both confusion and curiosity, to which she lit up her horn and the four guards simply vanished.

Grover almost jumped with fear. He quickly glanced at his guards for confirmation that he wasn't imagining things, but they were trained to look sternly forward unflinchingly. Which they failed, but they got close enough to be useless. “Where… where did they go?”

“They didn’t,” Celestia answered with an ominous smile on her face.

“What?”

“They didn’t exist in the first place. They were merely conjured phantasms.”

“But… they pulled your carriage!”

“They mustn’t have,” she shook her head.

“Then… how did it move?”

“A good magican never reveals her secrets.” She laughed as she booped his beak. “Or so I was told by Starswirl.” Grover quickly checked to see if his guards intended something ill-advised seeing how their emperor was just touched, but for the moment they were too confused to act. Which was probably for the best. “Speaking of cryptic adages, I don’t remember seeing that over the door last time.” She said pointing at the inscription over the door.

“Last time? Have you been here before?” Grover recoiled slightly as he tried to remember such an audience.

“Yes, shortly before your Father left for his final campaign, though that visit was a lot less… formal.” The playful, almost peppy tone of Celestia seemed to imply something—for lack of better word—sacrilegious. First, no truth more absolute than his father never touching a pony that way existed. Second, Grover was also practically certain his father had never had consensual relations with anyone outside his wife Grover was almost sure he hadn’t had any since his mother’s passing.

“Oh, and, If I may ask, what were you… discussing?”

“Basically the same matters about which I want to talk with you.” The jaunty tone in which Celestia answered almost unnerved him.

“Did that discussion have anything to do with the inscription… wait. Can you even read it, or do you want me to translate it for you?”

“No, thank you. I’m well-versed with Imperial Griffish. Less so with the periphery languages. We can even switch to it if you wish, though I’m thoroughly impressed with your grasp of Equish.”

“Why, thank you. Father would be proud that his disappointment was not misplaced,” Grover morosely answered as he opened the door to let Celestia in.

Celestia chuckled. “How is that so?” she asked as she walked down into the spacious room.

Grover went around the giant desk plopped down into the ornate chair behind it, signalling for Celestia to do the same on the other side of the desk. “Despite inheriting some of my father’s impressive physical tools, I’ve never been good at anything considered worthy for an Emperor. Id est combat. After acquiescing to that fact, painfully slowly I might add, he decided he was going to send me Aquileia to deal with ‘those pony loving scum’, for they might suffer me for ‘apparently being one’. Pony that is.”

Grover looked on his left, to the portrait of his father. Practically the only change he instituted on the room’s décor were two monumental, five metre tall pictures of his father and grandfather on the two side walls of the room, looking directly at the table. To everyone else, this was meant to represent the power and authority of the Empire bearing down upon them in that place. But for Grover, this was to force the old birds to look at him as he became greater than either of them.

“That does sound like something he would do.” Celestia’s voice startled the contemplating griff. “He did have a very… singular set of interests, and bore little patience for anyone being involved in anything else. Did he send you away just to rid you from his sight?”

“If only he did that,” Grover sighed. “I mean, he did do that, but he also forced me to learn languages, trade, calculus and diplomacy, all the ‘useless flowery shit’ to, quote ‘have enough cushion under my soft ass not to shit his throne the moment I sit down on it.’”

“If you’d take a piece of advice from this old mare, those are all more useful than combat. Even in war. Especially in war. That is far too important a matter to leave to soldiers.”

“Funny,” Grover retorted morosely, “Father used to say the same thing about politics and politicians.”

“And do you want to heed your Father’s advice? Call it a hunch, but I don’t think you like him very much.”

“I don’t. To both questions. Though crass as he was about that, and everything else really, I do think he loved me more than almost anygriff. Just not more than the collection of them. And definitely less than hims—his empire.” Grover knew he didn’t catch himself in time, but Celestia was kind enough to pretend not to notice.

“Even the most estranged fathers love their sons. They can’t help but do so,” Celestia said with a reassuring smile.

“Well, I wish he had failed not loving me a bit more often. Then I’d be still able to fly.” Grover knew he blurted out too much in his fury, but he couldn’t help but get angry. There hasn’t been single griff on Grover’s court who wouldn’t tell him something practically identical about his father’s feelings. Princess Celestia however, had the temerity of being completely honest.

“Oh my goodness,” Celestia murmured in shock, holding her hoof to her mouth, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Don’t patronise me,” Grover demanded, softly tapping his desk, annoyed with both the Princess and himself. “It’s long been since I’ve made my peace with it. Which is how I managed to keep it a secret from almost everyone for all these years. Besides, that one was legitimately an accident. So much so father never bothered to apologise for it. Though this time out of shame, and not pride, I could tell.”

A mournful silence sat upon the room. Ponies were usually not shy with their tears, Grover appreciated Celestia holding back hers. He couldn’t help but wonder—was it just for him? Or did she do it for all her subjects? Regardless, whenever forced to face this irrevocable truth, he reminded himself of his father’s words, from back when he still believed he could make a soldier out of his son.

“Those who can’t fly must soar,” Grover whispered, repeating his father’s words before looking back to Celestia. “That is the eternal truth of our world. It offers no pity on the rich and poor alike. You either get by or get crushed, and I prefer the former. Boreas above, I sound more like Father by the day.” Grover shook his head theatrically. “And you sound like someone who knew him well. Were these informal meetings between you more regular than I was led to believe?”

“No, I met him only the one time. But we have had a lengthy correspondence discussing my waning support for his wars.”

“Waning? So you’ve supported him at first?”

“Mostly his father. After watching the squabbles of a myriad of different dynasties scarring this beautiful land for a millennium, it was relieving to see somebody manage to unite all griffs together, imperfect as that unity may have been.”

“So do you endorse that Father murdered my grandfather, burned down his holdings, took my mother by force, all to drag Aquileia back into the fold?” Grover asked sharply.

“I agree with your father’s goals, not his methods,” Celeastia stated flatly, lacking any emotion in her voice, thus sidestepping the clear provocation. “Speaking of which, I had—through agents—offered your mother safe passage and sanctuary within my realm. Both before and after you were born. She told me not to bother her. I had her told through no uncertain terms, that that offer shall stand till the end of her days, but as far as I know she never even tried to contact anyone from my court.”

“It is reassuring to know that you have your agents within my court whom she could contact.”

“As you do in mine undoubtedly. I even hope I know a few, though most likely not all.” Though his face remained stoic, Grover knew that if Celestia wasn’t lying, she actually knew more agents at her court than he possessed. “That being said, it is unlikely she would have gone for any of them because if she knew about them, they might have been compromised.”

“It is unlikely she would have gone for any of your agents anywhere. She was always deathly afraid of Father and what he would do to anyone dear to her had she escaped, even if I assume your offer was extended to me.”

“That goes without saying,” Celestia nodded.

“So what was your plan of making her—I mean us—disappear? And please don’t tell me you would never reveal your secrets, this is not a joking matter.” Obviously Grover knew he couldn’t force the truth out of Celestia, but he had a hunch: Celestia wouldn’t have gone this far explaining this, if she wasn’t willing to go all the way.

“Of course I shall. But before I do that, I would be remiss not to finish my story. Yes, in terms of what goes in the history books, your mother’s and my story ends with her declining to take shelter in Equestria.” Celestia looked deep and hard into Grover’s eyes, giving him the impression that this is the first significant thing she was going to say that day. “But what’s actually important, and utterly inexplicable, is that Giselda Discret loved your father, Grover von Griffonheim. A griff she had every reason to hate, yet their love resulted in you. Above all, I want you to remember them that way.”

Yet again, brown beaked courtiers had been telling him the very same thing for decades, but unlike them, Princess Celestia meant it. Even stranger still, in this they agreed. But Grover knew this was not the time for agreeing with the Princess, so he chose the easier path of derision. “If there ever will be a single line written about Mother in the history books, it will say that she loved Grover of Griffonheim oh so very much. That’s how propaganda works. What will not be included in said books is your silly little attempt to smuggle her, or I guess us, out of here. Which you still haven’t explained how she was supposed to pull off. So please spare me your sentimental nonsense based on nothing, and answer my question.”

“If it is proof or certainty you wish, you will be disappointed now and forevermore. But I’ve seen love do its work for a millennium, and I’m still surprised by what it can make creatures do.” Yet again Celestia seemingly attempted to gaze into Grover’s very soul, as if she wanted to stress that these were the most important words that have ever been uttered. “As for your mother’s prospective escape, she had endless reasons to visit Aquileia, and then all she had to do was to get to the Equestrian embassy and talk to literally anypony there. Doubtless your Father would have had little concern for international treaties and would have burnt the whole place down—before or after he got her out—but his lengthy campaigns provided ample opportunities to do it in his absence, and it’s unlikely anyone lower on the chain of command would know what to do which A gets her back, B doesn’t attack my embassy, and thus declares a war.”

“Until Father hears that his wife and maybe his only heir were abducted by a foreign power. At which point you will get your war either way. Seems short sighted for the comfort of a single griffonness,” Grover pointed out, eager to learn how Celestia would have handled that situation.

“Your Father was many things, but he was no fool. He knew there were no navies that could stand up to Equestria’s; his fledgling empire, bursting at the seams, couldn’t have won a prolonged conflict against the much-begrudged ponies. At which point I thought I could have counted on his pride to not let that be proven on the battlefield.” Grover duly took note of the convoluted reasoning.

“And what if he had chosen an alternative way of getting revenge?” Grover asked, slightly tilted his head, with feigned curiosity.

“Such as?”

“I’m not sure,” Grover said theatrically scratching the back of his neck, “I will never claim I can match the sheer ingenuity with which he could hurt his enemies. But one option does look rather glaring. He already hated ponies and loved bloodshed. It seems to me those two could easily be combined into something that would have forced your hooves to act. Something where your precious navy couldn’t have helped because you would have either need to set ashore in Aquileia or watch Father ravage every single pony he could find.”

“That indeed would have been a problem, had it happened. But no problem is without solutions.”

“I assume that is not something on which you would like to elaborate.”

“I might, based on your answer,” she answered coyly.

“What answer, Princess?”

“Here we are, arguably the two most powerful creatures on Faust; both given a vast empire to care for and little in the way of equal adversaries save for, perhaps, each other. The last time this happened, I chose to idly watch as your father rampaged through this land. This time, I’m here. I came to your halls and broke bread to learn what it is your heart desires.”

After being subjected to fifteen minutes of Celestia effectively trying to lull him to sleep, Grover felt this was a sharp swerve into the opposite direction. So he decided to proceed with caution. “I’m not sure how you are expecting me to tell my grand strategy. As you’ve just said, even if we are not enemies at the moment, we are rivals by nature.”

“I’m not sure how you are planning to keep it a secret. An empire is a massive, ungainly beast, and the plans you hatch will make waves that will swiftly reach my shores. All I’m asking for is a little bit of warning.”

“So that you may prepare?”

“So that I may not pounce on shadows.”

“Aren’t you the one creating them, oh Sovereign of the Sun?” Grover asked, almost snickering.

“Light is very-very fast, but darkness… that’s already there.”

Grover had to admit, Celestia was remarkably quick on her hooves. Either that or she got this asked of her enough times to come up with an answer. No matter, that wasn't a question Grover would answer for free. “Well, I don’t see how that level of trust could exist between us without you going first. What are you planning to do on your side of the Celestial Sea?”

“I have nine hundred or so years of history demonstrating what I would do. Live in peace and spread the message of harmony. Leave us alone and you have my word that you will never hear from us again.”

Grover was quick to pounce on that poor choice of words. “Father was very cautious not to hurt Equestria or her colony, though he definitely considered the latter an affront to Griffonia. Probably also the former, but he was wiser than to proclaim that one openly. Yet, here you are breaking a promise before making it. So for the sake of clarity I would like to ask how do you define ‘us’?”

“How do you define ‘leave someone alone’?” Celestia asked back unfazed.

“So there is a level of interference you would tolerate?”

“Obviously, there are a million ponies living as your subjects, dreadful as you treat them, unless you turn up the heat even higher, I will not move my hoof for them. I drew my line, and you are solidly on the good side.”

“Delightful. I’m glad I can at least rule my own empire mostly undisturbed.” Despite his rather caustic answer, Grover was actually rather intrigued by Celestia’s words.

“I’m delighted that you’re delighted. After all, that’s certainly more than your father could have said. That’s how he met your mother.” It was interesting to hear how Celestia managed to sound so kind and catty at the same time.

Instead of trying to continue the chain of exceedingly polite insults, Grover decided to cut his losses and move on. “Well, I’m glad we see eye to eye,” Grover said, insultingly avoiding eye contact. “However I’m sensing you’re not here to confirm that.”

“That is indeed correct.”

“So let me get this straight,” Grover started, clasping his claws. “You visit Father not long before he flies off to his last campaign, he dies, I ascend to his throne, and now when my head barely warms my crown, you come here implying ominous threats if I were to do things with ponies you don’t prefer. I have a feeling this is going somewhere.”

“Guilty as charged,” Celestia smiled.

“So this is about the Riverlands,” Grover summarised, stopping for a moment before continuing. “You do realise Father’s campaign was a retaliatory one?”

“The history of warfare started with someone striking back. Every campaign was retaliatory in the eyes of the perpetrator, for slights real and perceived alike.” Celestia stopped for a moment, visibly contemplating how to continue. “That being said, I’m not blind to the atrocities the Nimbusians committed against the Griffs of the Evi Valley.”

“And they killed my Father.”

“Did they?”

“He went to the Riverlands, he fought with the tribes, and he never came back. As the biggest military catastrophe in history of the Empire, there are very few griffs whose accounts we have to base our reconstruction of the events, but even if we were to give credit to all the tall tales the soldiers told, the summation of those would still be less egregious than the idea that Father would ever surrender to ponies. So yes, he is dead.” By the time Grover finished his monologue, it dawned on him that he possibly misunderstood Celestia’s words, but decided it would look indecisive if he corrected himself now.

“And what tale would you tell of that campaign? What is your explanation of the events?” On one claw, Grover knew he was getting sidetracked, yet he was offered a chance to regale the story of his father’s demise to a neutral party—not something he was going to pass up on.

“Father had always had a good sense where to press his advantage, and had the charisma and the wherewithal to orchestrate some of the most impressive military marches of history.” Grover noticed the little twitch on Celestia’s face, but continued without a pause. “After the initial defences collapsed on the border, I assume he force marched his entire army through the Riverlands, burnt a path down the Eygsic forest along the Griffking river, living off both the land and on whatever supplies he managed to receive from Griffonstone, though that year the harvest was surprisingly meagre, until he reached the borders of Nimbusia.

“The Nimbusians, unlike other ponies, were masters of warfare and held little of the… so to say ‘pacifistic tendencies’, their kind are so known for.” Grover wanted to see if his words provoke any visible reaction again from Celestia, but alas was left disappointed. “They also had time to prepare as Father was marching down the Riverlands, constantly harassed by their mobile skirmishers whose nimbleness Father couldn’t match. They first burned their crops, and butchered what little livestock they kept. Then with months’ worth of artificial downpours, they turned the fields around their ancestral mountains into putrid marshlands, cesspools of diseases. This would have been probably enough to halt anyone’s advance in history, except Father’s.”

Grover stopped to comfortably sit back in his chair, finally getting to the good part. “It's not like he hadn’t encountered that kind of warfare; the northern kingdoms used the very same tactics when they fought him. All he had to do was to stop and wait. After all, it was their own supply the Nimbusians burnt; let them wait out the fall and the winter and see what they will do with the food they can produce in their mountains. With proper fortifications. Father could have sent back a significant portion of his troops and safeguard the conquered land with the rest, easing the need for supplies. I know this, because he did that in Vedina. He would have done it against any of the Griff kingdoms, and had he been younger, he might have even done it against others.

“But that version of him? At the apex of his power, stopped by mere ponies of all creatures? After knowing nothing but victories and pawlickers for decades?” Grover shook his head in disbelief. “No, he wouldn’t stop. Most unfortunately of all, he even had a reason, a proper good reason to press on. The Nimbusians always prided themselves on their ability to overcome impossible odds with a fraction of their opposition’s numbers. But this made them blind. The reason they never had the numbers was because they never let anyone join their ranks. They were obsessed with the purity of their warrior blood. Despite this, they had a pitiful amount of foals. They just couldn’t support more. In a way, it was almost convenient they treated their “overpopulation” with regular bloodletting. Not that it hid the fact their agriculture was just… barbaric. Both figuratively and… another kind of figuratively. Maybe it was the terrain, but I think having forced their earth ponies into slavery didn’t help it either.”

For a moment, Grover stopped to think if he should go on this side tangent that came to his mind, and decided Celestia deserved it, after what she did with the cartponies. “You know it always amused me how all four of us had so very different ideas about slavery and yet we ended up on the same conclusion. You let your bleeding heart dictate your policy and outlawed it based on… let’s say ‘principles’.” Grover let his smile make it clear that by “principles” he meant weakness. “My grandfather did it because you forced his claws. Father kept it up because he never knew enough about trade to know that he could have called your bluff without suffering debilitating consequences. And I? I know that slaves are just shit labour. They have no motivation to work well, and, at best, they will work hard if their masters are cruel enough; but if that is the case, they will quickly deteriorate as a workforce.

“In short, Father had the numbers. And the firm belief that there is no pony on Faust who could take on a griff one on one. Both of which were factually true. So he marched through the marshlands and into the hills. And in the hills, the downpours ceased and Boreas’ Sun ruled over the skies for days on end.” Grover made sure to stress Boreas’ name. “That was the last thing the already tired and sickly soldiers needed, but of course none would tell that to the breathing idol of bravery and masculinity that Father was.

“And that is how, on the seventh day of their hellish hike in the mountains, Father’s army reached the Hot Gates. These were, of course, largely uncharted lands; this was the time they learnt that pass was there in the first place. Father knew his griffs were tired, and he knew that getting through that pass was impossible without getting ambushed, so he decided he would stop for the day, even though it was not even noon. What he didn’t know and what ended up being his downfall, is that the pegasi knew about a secret mountain path they could use to get behind him. So they sent their most elite hoplites down that path to flank Father’s army from behind—they attacked through the gates, and they attacked from above with small iron spikes they call Φλεχεττε. They might have also attacked from the sea, accounts differ on that. Though the encirclement was broken and a good portion of the most cowardly—or least stupid—soldiers of Father’s army got away originally, they were headless chickens running around in a barrel. They didn’t know the mountains, they didn’t know the air currents, they barely even knew which way was Griffonheim. And they didn’t have the speed to outfly the Pegasi. Out of the 50 thousand that reached the Hot Gates, there were eight who reported back. Of course far, far more didn’t show out of shame. Some probably committed suicide realising what they had done. The ones who got intercepted by the Knights in Vartai? They got lynched on the spot and thrown in the nearest gutter.”

“So far it sounds pretty reasonable,” Celestia started, but Grover’s lifted left eyebrow quickly forced her to clarify “Well, aside from those very griff-like over-reactions. What about those tall tales you’ve mentioned?”

“Not much,” Grover shrugged, “Though one of them was weird. Well not so much the story. Soldiers would swear on their lives they’ve seen Arcturus himself in a battle. In fact, two of them claimed there was a dark angel fighting for the ponies who killed Father, but those stories are inconsistent. For example, in one version the angel was a pegasus, in the other it was an alicorn, one claimed she was a giant, taller than Father, the other claimed she was barely bigger than a normal pony. Things like that. But all eight of them, no matter how many times or what ways we asked—and despite the fact we made sure they didn’t know about each other—claimed that on that day at noon, the Sun suddenly turned black.”

“Black? By heavens. What could have that been?”

Grover’s beak bent into a taunting smile. He got her. After generations of false tales, he would hear something deliciously self-contradictory directly from the horse’s mouth. He had some scepticism to whether Boreas existed let alone that he moved the Sun, but it was definitely not the creature in front of him. “You tell me. It’s your area of expertise, not mine”

“I’m moving it through the Sky, not turning it on and off.”

“Of course you do,” Grover pouted. He expected something more desperate, “But maybe you noticed something about it late last summer. About the first of Gormon plus or minus one day.”

It took a second for Celestia to calculate it in her own calendar, or to successfully feigning an attempt so, but eventually she shook her head. “Nothing inexplicable, no.”

“Anything about the Angel?”

“Sorry, I know but one Pony whom I would describe as a Dark ‘Angel’ and I have defeated her in ages past, for good. …enough” she added, murmuring. “There is absolutely no chance she is the pony your soldiers were talking about. I’m sorry if you hoped to find your Father’s killer.”

“It’s probably better this way,” Grover sighed. “If she was here right before me I wouldn’t even know if I would punish her or kiss her on both cheeks.”

“I’m sorry for your loss young Grover,” Celestia reached out and touched his claws with her hoof, filling Grover with a strange warmth he hadn't felt in a very long time. “I know your relationship with your father has been… complicated. I’m not asking you to find love in your heart for him, because heavens above, I can’t. Not after what you’ve told me today. But for all his sins—or rather, through his sins—you were given a singular opportunity. And I mean it literally, I have never seen a griff with the potential to do as much as you. You have an empire, more powerful than ever before. You have the blood of both the von Griffonheims, and the Discrets running through your veins, you speak the languages of both your griffs and ponies here and across the Celestial Sea, you have an economical and diplomatic sense your father could only dream of, and you do not lack empathy. You could do more than any Griff that has ever dreamt, very much including your father.”

Grover couldn’t deny that for a moment he couldn’t help but believe Celestia. But that moment, along with the bliss, fluttered into oblivion, and he had to face with the reality of his crown. Despite their apparent honesty, anybody who talked, or would ever talk with him wanted something from him. So it was best to ask. “Provided?” he asked pulling his claws out of Celestia’s reach.

“I beg your pardon?” Celestia asked perplexed, giving Grover the feeling he finally managed to surprise the Princess.

“You’ve been blabbering about, things that could be, potential, possibilities… but possibilities have conditions. That’s what separates them from every other eventuality. I’m interested what yours are,” Grover asked, absent-mindedly ogling at his claw tips steepled against each other in front of him.

“Aren’t they obvious?”

“You want me to leave the Riverlands well enough alone.”

“Yes.”

“That is what you asked Father when you saw him,” Grover answered, still not giving Celestia the satisfaction of looking in her eyes.

“Indeed, that’s what I would have liked to ask, but I knew him better than that. So I asked him to beat them, humiliate them, extort any material price he wished, but not subjugate them.” The tinge of annoyance in Celestia’s voice made Grover so giddy, he had to concentrate not to let his smile betray him.

“He denied your request, and he went to war and died, so here you are, trying to make me learn from Father’s mistakes. Now all this leaves but one question to ask. Why didn’t you stop him?” Grover looked up at the portrait of his father, feeling in control of the situation.

“Excuse me?”

“There is a very obvious plan of action, that you could have followed and deter Father from his campaign indefinitely.” Grover looked deep into the piercing stern eyes of his Father’s painting, but for the first time, he felt assurance not fear. “All you had to say was that the Riverlands were under your protection. Yes, your army probably couldn’t match Father’s, yes this would have jeopardised your little colony, but Father couldn’t have risked an invasion from a powerful foe in his back. And yet you didn’t. Even now, you would rather beg me than do that.” Grover could finally return Celestia’s gaze with utter confidence. “In fact if you’d be so bold, perpetual Princess of Ponykind, to say the word, I would stand down. But you won’t.”

Celestia sat up, straightened her back, obviously realising that being kind was not getting the expected results, so instead she chose to attempt to look dignified and powerful. But Grover knew it was too late. “Do you not think that my restraint has a reason?” Celestia asked in a strict tone.

“Oh I’m sure it has a thousand, all masking the truth,” Grover leaned in smiling with the euphoria of a predator finally tasting the fear of his prey in his mouth. “The truth that you are weak. Not of power, but of character. You’d pay any price to save lives, as long as it’s free. But the moment you think your actions have consequences, you back off. That’s why you didn’t threaten Father with war, that’s why you had been willing to offer Mother sanctuary, thinking you could not be struck back, and that’s why you proclaimed you would not even try to ease the burden of the “free” ponies of Griffonia.”

“You say that I have potential to be greater than my ancestors,” Grover said, spreading his forelegs wide, indirectly gesturing at the paintings on the wall. “Indeed I do. Partly because of the things you’ve said but mostly because I know you. I see through your radiant halo of righteousness and see there is nothing behind it.” Grover felt his voice swelling with every word he said. “I will have the Riverlands subjugated, I will conquer the continent, and I will make my father look like an ambitious amateur in the annals of history!”

And in the moment of Grover’s complete triumph, Princess Celestia’s face changed from being taken aback to… slightly irked. She sat back, shook her head, briefly looked at the ceiling and sighed heavily. “My real role as a princess, I often find, is not to rule. To the world, the smartest pony is as inconsequential as the smartest termite. What I can influence are ponies, and my lifespan indeed gives me a certain perspective. Thus, if I have any, my actual capacity is that of a teacher. To you, history is but a chronicle of your successes. That of course is folly. History is the rules to ruling, written in blood, and every time an emperor ignores it, he etches in a new page.” Celestia took a huge breath, as if she was overwhelmed by memories of ten lifetimes, then let out a long, loud sigh. “I wrote a few myself.

“When I came to your father, my aim was to show him that he could get what he wanted without killing all that many ponies. Despite knowing your father to what I assumed to be a significant degree, there was a fundamental inclination that I was not capable of considering. The question that I proposed an answer to was how to inflict the minimal amount of suffering to achieve his goals. Suffering begets suffering, and I was confident I could make this clear to your father. Partisans, stolen taxes… these were languages your father spoke well. What I didn’t know was that, while he was not oblivious to my principle in relation to ponies, he was vastly more interested in the maximum amount of suffering he could inflict without jeopardising his goals.”

Celestia hung her head, as she was trying to hide behind her own mane. “At first I thought he could be stopped in other ways. The riverponies fought bravely, as I knew they would, and I desperately hoped that by some miracle they could stop your father. But I reckon deep down I knew it was for naught. Night after night, in the realm abandoned, the echoes of their cries rang in my ear, and in my heart. So despite the fears, for the first time in 900 years, I took up my spear and donned my ancient armour to be not a paragon, but an arbiter of justice.”

“What in the bloody Tartarus are you talking about?”

“It was me, young Grover.” With a sudden jerk, Celestia lifted her head and looked at Grover with pure determination. “I stopped the onslaught of the imperial army. I scorched the mountain paths under their paws, I eclipsed the Sun on that fateful day, I morphed into the dark mare who rent your soldiers asunder.”

“You are lying.”

Celestia closed her eyes, let the breath out she was apparently holding and shook her head. “I wish I was. You wouldn’t believe how much. But alas it’s all true.”

“You are not moving the Sun.”

“Your disbelief is proof that I’ve been doing a good enough job to get away with two asynchronous events in a calendar year.” Celestia took a deep breath. “Or it’s a good enough sounding lie that I can tell myself this evening. Nevertheless, at this point your father proved that I can only delay the inevitable, and hate it or not you two are too much alike to take this risk.”

Grover wanted to talk but with a single flick of her hoof Celestia silenced him.

“So sit back and take a look at the ceiling. I have something to show you.” Celestia lit her horn up and the ceiling above slowly faded into the clear afternoon sky “See that? That’s the Sun, shining down on your castle. Based on its position, Griffenheim’s coordinates and the date, it should be… half past one.”

“Shouldn’t you know that to know where to move the Sun when?”

“You wouldn’t believe what you can do with a thousand years of muscle memory. Using the word “muscle” loosely of course. Now putting it back, that will require calculations, but I think I’ll just eyeball it and correct it later. You won’t notice that." Celestia shook her head slowly, clearly full of misgivings about the whole situation. "All right, last chance young Grover, do you believe me when I say I’m the one who moves the Sun?”

“No,” Grover said defiantly.

Celestia kicked the chair from under herself, and let it tumble on the marble floor as she walked into the middle of the room. She looked at Grover and the Griff saw that Celestia’s face bore neither kindness nor compassion any more. Just pure absolute focus and resolution. The mere effort to keep eye contact with the Princess made the feathers on the back of his neck stand up. And in that moment, Grover realised he was, deadly and irrevocably, wrong.

“Well, you are somewhat right,” Celestia said like a harsh but fair teacher reprimanding her student. “In the worst possible way. For I am the one who moves both the Sun and the Moon.” As the last words died down, the bright lights of the Sun unnaturally illuminating the room, slightly dimmed. The Princess’ horn lit up brighter than ever before, and the colours of her eyes dulled into shining bright white orbs, and with that her entire body was encompassed in the same heavenly light. She slowly opened her majestic wings and her hooves left the floor as she started to hover over the marble floor. Suddenly Celestia’s head snapped up and Grover followed her gaze upon the sky.

Grover looked into the Sun, her shine strangely not hurting his eyes, and for a moment he saw nothing. For that one precious, ephemeral moment, he believed this to be a trick, finally giving him absolution from his unfaith by being right. Then the impossible was made manifest, and the sun was moved to crest. It went way, way up high, to the zenith of the sky, right above the Princess, aye. And from the left, the lesser light to rule the night came with thrice the haste and took her place, her shroud slowly eclipsing the bright, turning the day into night. Above all now was a hole, gaping, waiting to swallow them whole. And below, the Princess whose will is law, her piercing gaze now brightly ablaze, she looked at him, the Griff, oh so dim, and told a harrowed hymn.

“I am darkness, I am light, I am the road, truth and life,” Her booming voice echoed between the walls of this room. Grover quickly glanced sideways, watching the portraits of his ancestors, the testaments of his hubris, sneering from above, watching him cower in his seat.

“No… this cannot be…” Grover stuttered. “This is a trick, an illusion! You just… magicked my ceiling to show what you want!"

Celestia slowly descended, while the bright light emanating from her body ceased. Her legs splayed wide, head hanging low, it looked like she needed most of her power to stay on her hooves. After a dozen heavy, laboured breaths, she lifted her head. Her eternally flowing magical mane was completely soaked with sweat, parted by her horn, the tafts of teal green and pink mane covering most of her face barring her left eye. “Look at your windows behind you, young Grover, and behold the darkness. Eternal, on my whim,” she said with a wry smile.

“Just another part of your illusion!” Grover cried out. “You already propelled a carriage today by nothing but your will and phantasms!”

Celestia chuckled. “If I could create an illusion so massive you could never see through it, how would that be any better than me controlling the celestial bodies? Or how do you know that you are not already in one, living your life in a Ponytemkin world I made for you?”

And there it was, when even the lies Grover surrounded himself were closing in on him, it was time to give up the fight.

“Stop!” Grover said, collapsing into his chair. “Celestia, stop! You win, just make this stop.”

“With pleasure,” She took a deep breath, lit up her horn and slowly moved the moon away from the sun. It took a few minutes, unlike last time, and when she finished, she was not panting and wheezing. She just took her chair, levitated back into its place and sat back down to pour a tea for herself, from a pitcher that definitely wasn’t there a moment ago. Upon further inspection Grover realised it was one of his, but he chose not to ask where she got it. Instead he waited until she took a comfortable sip, letting out a satisfied sigh.

Having managed to gather his thoughts and composure, Grover finally dared to speak. “So I assume the lightshow before was… just that, a show,” he stated incredulously.

“Not really, although I could have been less theatrical. But the faster you want to move an object the more energy it takes, and that is how I look when I try to use all my power. And because this was a demonstration, it would have been foolish not to showcase the full breadth of my capabilities. Well almost.”

“Almost?”

“Well just like with physical exercise, there is a level one cannot reach unless they or their loved ones are threatened.”

Celestia didn’t elaborate, but Grover knew, she knew, he knew that was a polite warning.

“So… is that it? You can just do this - or worse - at any time, and I and everyone else in the world.…we just…are left to deal with it? I mean, even if you wanted to punish someone else, everyone on Faust suffers.”

“You, and frankly everyone else, are too young to appreciate how carefully I handle this power. Apart from the incident with your father, the last time someone interfered with the orbits of the celestial bodies was the date we mark today as the start of our calendars.”

Though the strange wording didn’t go unnoticed by him, Grover tried to sound absolutely nonchalant when he asked the next question. “Oh yes, what happened then? I always suspected, but you must have been involved, no?

“I have spent 855 years burying that memory, and I will not unearth it, even for you. That being said, all the pieces of the puzzle are in your claws, though I am confident you will not get further than I’m willing to let you.”

Grover nodded, accepting he wouldn’t get an answer. It was blatantly obvious it was tied to the reason Celestia said “someone” when she mentioned the last interference, but that was exactly how far he got in figuring out the “puzzle”. But he had time for that later, while now he had a waning opportunity unlike anyone else. Ask questions to Celestia as someone whom she considered important enough to reveal things that she veiled for centuries.

“So after an 850 year pause you’ve decided to use your powers twice in a little less than a year. What do I or my family owe the honour of this exceptional attention?”

Celestia looked at him surprised. “To your empire, I’ve told you, you have many lives you may influence and it is imperative that you learn what that means. Or barring that, you’re scared enough not to do something too… ill-advised.”

“So these events are just another page etched into that illustrious book of yours?”

“In a matter of speaking.” Grover noticed that though Celestia was way too disciplined of a conversationalist to frown, her eyes showed just the barest hints of disdain. This was enough for Grover to strike.

“And whom is that lesson for, Professor?” Celestia hesitated just for a second, and Grover didn’t wait for her to come up with an answer. “Because it’s not for Father, you saw to his death, before he could learn anything. It's not for me—save for the last paragraph—because I didn’t see it.” With his beak bending into a dark grin Grover asked. “Whose education is worth a hundred thousand Riverponies’ lives?”

“The other 10 million,” Celestia whispered, glaring into her cup, just loud enough for Grover to hear.

“Oh really?” Grover let the silence sit for a moment. Normally he wouldn’t even dream to break Princess Celestia with such a cheap trick, but with that many souls on her conscience, and no creature to confess her sins to, he felt he could get something out of her.

“I underestimated your father.” With Celestia looking down, Grover couldn’t be certain, but he thought he saw tears glistening in her eyes. “I knew he would get through the border; I'd counted on it. I thought that against such a formidable adversary, the riverponies could finally see past their ancestral conflicts and fight as one, learning they are more alike than different. They might have done so, but your father… he was blazing quick. Sometimes literally. He left no time for summits and diplomacy. And he would have won, I have no doubts about that. And while technically the bigger threat your father proved to be the more likely my plan would have succeeded eventually, if he or his zealot knights get dominion over the Riverlands, my plan is forfeit.” Celestia wiped her eyes before looking back up to Grover.

“I do not claim to foresee what would have happened had your father succeeded, but it would have involved conflict, and death on a scale that would have made the campaign pale in comparison. Ponies and Griffs alike. It didn’t take much observation of your Father’s army to see that my martial prowess, considerable as it is, wouldn’t have made much of a difference, and as such, I’ve elected to let loose my true power.” By the time Celestia finished, any taint of sadness on her face was replaced by the same fiery determination which was there before her “demonstration”.

“So is that really what our world is?” Grover asked wallowing in sheer disbelief. “Some clump of clay you spin around like some transcendent potter, and whenever someone sufficiently steps out of bound, you just start to sling spells until things work out?”

“No, that’s actually a common misconception, it’s the Sun and Moon that I spin around the globe, not the other way around. But to answer your question…almost. Except not even I get to decide.”

“How come?”

“Whatever entity bestowed my power upon me, also gave me a mandate to spread harmony.”

“I’m not sure how anything can give you, of all creatures, a mandate.”

“I could tell you that I saw a vision of this entity asking me to spread the message of harmony, and it would be true, but I assume you would just ask why I obey this mysterious entity. But I don’t have any other choice,” Celestia took another long sip of her tea. “Whatever this entity is, whether it has a will or not, it is best considered a law of nature. For example, once upon a time I didn’t control the Moon. That was the mandate of somepony else. Of course, having these dual duties, we had to work quite closely together, and we had a pretty harmonious relationship.” Celestia threw back the rest of her tea with such eagerness, that Grover was sure she could have downed the entire pitcher in one gulp. “One day, for reasons I will not be discussing, that individual abandoned their duty. After they were deposed, I inherited their powers. There are other examples like that; however, the one common thread among these events is that the more harmonious the world is, the less powerful I get. And vice-versa.”

Grover took a second to ponder about what he’d just heard. “That sounds like no one else has a choice but you. You could just sow more and more discord and get ever more powerful.”

Celestia waved him off. “Flattering as that thought is, that’s not how things work here. If I tried, there would be some ragtag group of ponies who would shoot me in the head with a literal beam of friendship or something. This world was created to be harmonic. No matter how we try, we cannot fight the inevitable, love and tolerance shall come for us all, and all these clueless warmongers will be holding claws and hooves singing around a campfire as friends and equals. I like to call it the entropy of harmony.” Celestia must have noticed the complete cacophony of emotions Grover felt because she quickly added. “All I do is make sure it arrives soon enough.”

“And do you not feel that it’s not enough?” Grover asked, still trying to grasp the humility one would need to serve anything this faithfully, this long. “That you could be more than a tool of some higher being? To make your own decisions, just to feel there is something more to you than someone else's commandment?”

“Perhaps, once there was, young Grover, but not any more.” Celestia’s shoulders drooped, her face lost the cocky half smile, and altogether, she looked as if the entire weight of her many lifetimes was suddenly dropped on her. “I can’t say I hate it here, because there are so many great creatures and things to be found everywhere, but in the end, I am a mortal made eternal. I can love my ponies, and I do, every one of them. But there is a love you cannot bestow to that which is not your equal. You don’t love your pet and your child in the same way. And everyone I ever loved is either dead, turned to stone, or banished. All I want is to finish this service, and either meet them again, or finally forget everything.”

Grover’s words dripped with sarcasm. “The Friendship Beam still seems like the fastest alternative for that.”

“I’ve seen what happens to those who go down that path. Let’s just say the alternative is better for everycreature.”

Grover submerged, deep into his thoughts, pondering for probably mere minutes, but he wouldn’t have cared if it had taken him hours to reach his conclusion. And when he did, he looked up at Celestia ready to finish this misbegotten audience.

“Hmm… let’s see if I’ve got this correctly: I want you to get out of here, and you also want to get out of here,” Grover stood up, went around his desk to Celestia and held out his claws, as a signal to take her hoof to help her stand up. “And this holds true for a surprising range of definitions for what we call ‘here’.” The Princess nodded, took Grover’s claw and stood up, and started walking down the room with Grover to the massive double doors. “And based on the system you’ve presented, the only way I can achieve my goal, is coincidentally the exact way you can achieve yours.”

“Well, seeing how we have the same goal, it would be strange if the methods differed,” Celestia smiled.

“Indubitably, but still, this particular coincidence seems very… fortuitous. Almost too fortuitous.” Grover said, reaching for the door.

Before he could open the door more than an inch, Celestia’s hoof pressed on it, and slammed it shut with a warm smile on her face. “Young Grover, if you want to disprove any of my theories, you are more than welcome to try at your own pleasure.” Grover didn’t know that ‘pleasure’ and 'peril' were synonyms, but it seemed like this was one of the subtle secrets of Equish only natives were aware.

With Celestia’s hoof off the door, Grover finally opened it, finding a dozen or so of his subjects asleep in the hallway. Though he felt his pupils dilate to the size of saucer plates, Grover managed to keep enough composure to force a more or less coherent sentence. “May I ask… What the fuck?”

“I didn’t want anygriff to interrupt us so I conjured a sleeping field in front of your door.” Celestia looked at him with a completely neutral expression as they walked out of the room.

“Since we are not sleeping, I must assume you’ve already dispelled it,” Grover asked, confused.

“Yes,” Celestia nodded.

“So… how come they haven’t woken up?”

“Well… they are sleeping,” Celestia looked like she had to fight the urge not to crack up. “But please don’t punish them for sleeping on the job. They are the most loyal subjects you have.”

Grover looked around, trying to identify the bodies. Ten guards, a maid, and two ministers. Just as he finished with his inspection, Celestia’s voice reached his ears again.

“Young Grover, I think I may have neglected to answer your question from before. And the answer is yes, I’m quite certain it had everything to do with my visit—your father chose to adorn your wall with this sentence.” Grover stepped next to Celestia and looked at the engraving above the doors, just as she, although he didn’t know why, he knew exactly what was written up there.

“If I were you, I would have that inscription removed at your earliest convenience. You can never be too careful what you wish for,” Celestia said in a melodious voice, before she turned around and left seemingly without a care in the world.

For a moment, the thought of Celestia doing all she had done just to force him to do this crossed Grover’s mind, but he quickly realised that was something he would have done had the roles been reversed. Though he had to admit he lacked more than just magic to pull something like that off. Acquiescing to how thoroughly he had just been educated, Grover read this textualisation of sheer undue hubris one last time and smiled.

The Sun never sets on the Griffonian Empire.