Generations

Prologue

So low was the sun that its light could only touch the sky, cladding the land in an eerie shadow. The battlefield was oiled slick with the bile and blood of griffons and ponies of all types. Many griffons were circling in the sky like vultures waiting to feed, a sign of who the victor of battle was.

Clad in golden armor the power hungry sun princess of Old Equestria looked over the dead of the battle field, her back turned impertinently to the first emperor and father of the great griffon family.

“Your armies have fallen and the elements are already lost, surrender the sun Princess, we will bring peace and harmony back to Equestria.” Silence was his only answer. “Answer me Celestia! Surrender, let no more the blood of our combined people be shed for a silly throne and title.” Still no answer, “Confound your stubbornness woman; How much more must Equestria suffer?!”

“The sun will never bow to you! This was a useless war of your doing.” The princess responded without even a glance over her shoulder.

“Useless?! We fought for our people for harmony, you fought for you.” The griffon emperor flailed his wing up in declaration. “As of now you, and your little ponies, are spoils of war! Every pony that lives today will have to earn their freedom. In this way they will give back to Equestria what you and your kind corrupted.”

“And what would you do with me?” still she did not turn around.

“Still only worried about your flank! Well, there is little use this country will have with a dead princess.”

A young changeling named Entomon was watching the community play reenacting the defeat of Princess Celestia. The play made her seem like some selfish ruler disconnected from her people and the emperor some kind of savor of the land.

‘History is written by the victors’ as they say.

“150 years have passed” the narrator bellowed to the crowed, “the Great Griffon families have kept their promise and Equestria has never been so prosperous!” cheers and whistle enveloped the air around Entomon. Because of this he never heard the shuffling of talons and paws as a local guard approached him.

“Entomon!” The griffon yelled as he grasped the changeling by the back of his neck. “Don’t suppose Hephaestus is here with you?” asked the guard as he lifted him up to look at him eye to eye. Everyone knew who Entomon was, the only changeling slave who did not take an alternate shape when out in public, this did Entomon no favors as his love for theater kept getting him in trouble. Luckily for Entomon most of the guards knew, and owed, his master as he was one of the local black smiths.

Entomon antenna like ears drop, “No, I wanted to see the evening plays.” He answered in a defeated voice.

The guard was already flapping his wings to take off, “Well so did I, but thanks to you, I have to miss the other shows dragging your rear back to your master.”  Entomon was small enough for the griffon to fly and carry him, he had his own wings but he wasn’t about to make this any easier for the guard. As they flew over the rooftops of Canterlot was mentally preparing himself for another of Hephaestus berating.

Canterlot’s population  is made mostly of griffons, few however flew through skies; this was common in larger cities like Canterlot. Due to the higher population midflight collision was a major problem; griffons are essentially birds, so it doesn’t take much to break a wing or a neck. So there was only other guards and tourist flying though the skies on a regular basis.

The distant clanging told the young changeling that their trip almost over with. Unlike most of the homes around Hephaestus’, it was made of mud coated wood to handle the extreme heat that his work gave off. His master’s home was also on the outskirts of town so that if a fire would start it was less likely to burn the town down.

They soon landed in front of his work station and the clanging stopped as an older griffon, blemished with age, stormed out more like an angry bear than a bird. Everything about Hephaestus was large, his wings his talons and legs his neck, even his voice and every ounce of it was muscle, it would be a astonish thing to see a bird his size fly. To call him intimidating was an understatement.

Due to some accident, before Entomon’s time, Hephaestus’ tongue was severely burned so his speech pattern was a little off, “Where did you find him dis time?”

“The public theater just like last time and the time before that”, responded the guard tossing Entomon at the old griffon’s talons. “We can’t just bring him back every time he breaks curfew. You need to control him he’s too young of a slave to be let out after a certain hour.”

“Entomon is more honest dan most griffons, besides he wouldn’t get very far, who in town doesn’t know Entomon.” responded Hephaestus.

“I know and I agree, but the law is the law. You should have been fined nearly ten times and this insect should have been whipped.” the guard pointed a talon at the blacksmith, “As his owner his action reflects on you.” He then started to take off, “You need to remember that!” he yelled as he flew away.

Entomon was still sitting there at his masters talons; his head hung low his ears flatten to his head. “Just go inside I’ll deal with you after I work dis order.” Hephaestus said to the cowering changeling. Hephaestus didn’t even look at him as Entomon made his way to the house

Entomon trekked up a flight of stairs to the room he shared with the other slave the blacksmith owned. As soon as he made it to his bed and collapsed into it, a familiar pop resonated in the room.

“Wow, you’ve been getting in trouble even more than me lately.”  Entomon glanced up at his roommate. Entomon was not the only changeling in town, but there was no other slave like Nero. Then again there was no other draconequus like Nero ether. Most of his kind was too rare and too powerful to even get near much less to become a spoil of war or trade. Nero however was small and stout unlike his snake like brothers, in fact he was just as tall as Entomon, and he was a one trick draconequus; all he could do was teleport so compare that to the average unicorn, Nero looked pretty meek.

“That’s only because Hephaestus hasn’t let you out since you pulled that prank on the grain seller” Responded Entomon raising his head.

“Hey that guy should thank me!” Nero teleported to the other side of the bed, “that pony was selling beer instead of grains for weeks; he’s never been so popular.”

Entomon response was laced with annoyance “You were lucky. The only reason you weren’t punished and Hephaestus fined was because the stall owner was a pony.” he knew Hephaestus would talk with him soon maybe even beat him; he was in no mood for Nero teasing.

“Oh please, like a few whips to the back would faze me, I have been through worse helping Hephaestus in the forge. My entire body’s a callus!” Entomon rolled his eyes, with almost no pupil it was an expression missed by most.

“So they found you at another play?” Entomon nodded “don’t know why you keep risking trouble over those things, there tons of drama going on right here. Did you hear about that pony family whose house burned down?”

Voices, so many voices; you couldn’t make out a single word that was being said. Sitting in the middle of this vortex of squawking arguments and curses being flung across the room sat three very scared foals.

“ENOUGH!! I will have order; or I avow I'll have you all plucked and shaved!” the commanding voice came from a griffon whose demeanor was more lion than eagle. The room calmed to his demand. “I grow weary of your squawks.” The griffon that has captured the room was Romulus, first son the current emperor.

“The parents of these foals owned three separate griffons a debt,” the intimidating griffon began explaining, “the loan was used to open there own trade. Which became a success and soon their debt was to be paid, however all of their assets, along with their lives, were lost in a fire. Normally the children would have been ether given to surviving family members or to an orphanage, but one of the griffons that the before mention ponies owed have requested that the foals be sold into slavery to pay the family debt. These foals were born to free parents and therefore they are also free but not old enough to make their own decision. Every citizen of Equestria has the option to relieve themselves to slavery as a way to pay a debt or better their lives, like that of the poor or uneducated. Also a citizen can be sold as a slave without their consent under certain circumstances, like paying a family debt, which is exactly what is happening to these foals. This conflict of law is what has brought the three foals in front of the city’s highest court."

Unfortunately for the foals Romulus cared not for a single pony in the kingdom. While a free citizen was as good as any griffon in the eye of the people and the government, prejudges ways of thinking still ran amuck in the royal family so there was few representatives for any other citizens, besides griffons, forcing most ponies to live as second class citizens or less.

“I will ONLY here a few arguments and then I’ll move to a decision. Is that clear?” Romulus bellowed, “Servilia I give the first augment to you.”

The griffon that was called upon was very contrasting to Romulus. There was the great griffon family, which descended from warlords and generals, and then there were the aristocrats, who hail from artiest, politicians, educators and other position of both power and culture. Servilia was the very example of these differences, while Romulus features made him look fierce at all times; humbling most in his presence, Servilia has soft feathers and fluffy fur on her lions end, her beak was pointed rather than curved, she was small for a griffon, her eyes were wide and seemed to have its own light in them. Over all she seems to be half dove rather than half eagle.

“Thank you honored prince. Fellow griffons of this court 150 years ago our first emperor took the right to rule promising a return of harmony in Equestria. Ponies were made to earn back there freedom in order to bring this about, to condemn these foals to slavery after their parents earn their freedom would be a step backwards and an insult to the great griffon family,” Servilia knew it wasn’t the court but Romulus that she needed to win the argument with. “This is a conflict of law, so our choice is not spelled out here; we must ask ourselves what kind of citizens are we? Do we reflect the prosperity and harmony that was known as the Twilight Age 300 years ago? Or are we the Equestria that was falling apart 150 years ago that only war could fix?” Her trap was set; if Romulus ruled against the foals he would be seen as going against his families historic agenda.

“We are here to decide the fate of these three foals, but also the fate of the three lenders, two of which has already cut their losses and moved on, not wishing to add to the foals’ hardships. Marcus Cicero,” Servilia suddenly said turning to the plaintive’s attorney, “how much was the loan?” she asked.

If Servilia can be described as half dove then Marcus Cicero could be described as half vulture, this is mostly due to a crooked smile that seem to plastid on his face at all times.

The attorney was not called on at all and did not have to answer anything but complied to answer the question rather than debate court etiquette and end up answering her inquiry anyways.

“3000 bits.” He answered.

“How much did the family payback with interest before their demise.” A whimper could he heard from the group of foals, the eldest has been trying to keep the others calm during the hiring so not to anger Romulus, but heartbroken children can only take so much. Servilia looked over to the foals then turned back to the attorney “hold your answer Cicero.”

She walked over to the foals and spread her wings over them blocking the young ponies’ view of the room; she then ducked her head into her makeshift dome. What was said to the foals in their moment of privacy was unknown to the rest of the court, but when she left their sides their tears were dried and the some color had returned to them.

“Cicero, your answer please,” she said.

“4800 bits.” He responded as a matter of fact.

“And what is left of the loan?” she pushed on pacing the center of the room.

“1200 bits” he said casually.

“It seems to me that your client has already profited off this loan and won’t be at a lost. Am I right?”

“Mathematically, yes-“

“Thank you” Servilia said cutting him off from further response. “People of the court as you can see this is not a conflict of law for the only one pursuing these foal for reimbursement has already made a profit. Your honor I rest my argument”

The sound of one griffon clapping could be heard, most of the griffons were placed in a very solemn mood, but it was Marcus Cicero, the other representatives in this hearing. “A very passionate speech Servilia, but it is a narrow perspective on these poor foals situation. They have lost their parents, their home, and any assets that would have assisted them through this hardship and through their lives.  You want to send them to a pony orphanage most of which are so underfunded the foals there are lucky to eat once a day.”

“We have made it that way!”

BANG “Servilia!” Romulus bellowed as he slammed down his talon, “Don’t make me remove you.”

“I have never seen a happy pony orphan,” Marcus went on as if he was never interrupted, “but I have seen slaves earn their way to happier lives. That, as you poetically pointed out Servilia, is the intent of slavery.” No. Servilia thought to herself, he’s making a hole for Romulus to weasel through and decide anything he wants. “You say we will ‘condemn them to slavery’ I say we would condemn them to destitute. The foals, to be cared for and taught by a wealthy griffon, maybe even earn their freedom or an uncomfortable life where their best option once they are of age is slavery anyways.” Servilia had lost, with Romulus biased views there was no way she would win now.

Romulus spread his wings to get the courts attention, “I have the facts and have heard the augments, I will now deliberate in my quarters court is in recess for one hour, return promptly.”

Romulus retired to the judge’s quarters, only 15 minutes went by when another griffon arrived and entered the room. “Who the he-oh Remus, what do you want?”

The new arrival named Remus was Romulus’ brother, and every feature on Remus gave that away, except for one thing. Remus had a soft smile that seems to never leave his face; unfortunately he was always compared to his older brother. Things like Romulus with a heart or Romulus with tact were phrases he heard more often then he would’ve liked.

Remus had a look on his face like he just won a battle, or a really good game of chess, “I’m here to make your evening less stressful. A pony has come forth and paid the family’s debt to the griffon.”

Not bothering to hide the irate in his voice, Romulus answered, “I have already decided that they will be slaves rather than under fed orphans.”

Remus smile just got bigger. “The pony has also paid for the foals to attend a boarding school until they’re of age. They will belong to the state but they will be raised by the school and well taken care of. There is no longer a reason to make these foals into slaves; at least not legally.”

Romulus stared at his brother like he was a live fish to be eaten. “So be it I'll inform the court after the recess.”

“Glad to hear it brother.” He turned to leave.

“Who was this pony?” Romulus asked in an icy tone.

Still heading out the door he Remus answered, “Who else would be this generous?”

With that he left the room.

“Epicharis” Romulus growled to himself.

Remus made his way down the hall from the judge’s deliberation room and was stopped by a young mare clearing her throat.

“Prince Remus if today’s business in the courts is over there is concerns regarding the upcoming Gala’s budget.” Remus just smiled at the mare. Her butter yellow coat was softly accented by a curly orange mane and tail, with the curls of her mane tied up elegantly, she sported a pinstriped mare’s suit and a balance weight adorned her flank. The features of her face gave a false assumption of a shy and innocent mare, in reality she is one of the most successful ponies in Canterlot. Her power peeked when she became the personal accountant to the great griffon family.

“Where should we address these concerns Epic?” The prince asked as the mare walked up beside him, the two resumed their way out of the court house.

Epicharis walked with her eyes closed and her nose turned up as like the pony nobility of old, a habit she formed while in the service of the great family. “As the Gala is part of the family’s budget, somewhere private would be warranted.”

“My quarter then, it has a great view.” A smile crept across the griffon’s beak.

“Really now?” the mare said casually.

“Yep, from the moment youwalk into the room” Epic opened her eyes and gave him an annoyed glance then resumed her pose as they walked out of the building.

“A view like that may be distracting dear prince, we might have to hinder you from such pleasures until our work is done.” She teased right back.

“It’s imposable to keep such things from me.” He responded in a cocky voice.

“I see the prince is full of himself today.” She responded as they passed the arch into the castle courtyard.

“I am,” Remus he leaned close so she could only hear, “but in a few minutes you’ll be full of me to.”

Epic stopped in her tracks, her eyes popped open as scarlet filed her yellow cheeks.

There are few griffons that know more about the old castle than Brutus and even less who know of the ancient caves and dungeons that reside under its structure. In fact only the upper branches of the great griffon family are aware of what is down there. Except for Brutus; a war veteran who earned the personal trust and loyalty of the emperor himself, and now watches over the only two prisoners that can be found down in these depths.

His long history in the army made his youth last longer than most of his kind, but his age was finally taking its toile as each step shook a feather from his body. This was an easy retirement for him though, all he had to do was feed and care for one of the prisoners. The other one required no attention at all.

The dungeon was massive but with only one active prisoner nothing much was locked up and the occupant had free range of the place. Signs of attempts to make the place homely as possible lay all over the structure. A wooden table under a lit flame lamp sat almost randomly in the darkness.

This was Brutus’ destination, with him a bowl of oat and daisies.

“Your dinner.” He yelled out as he placed the bowl down on the table.

Brutus was well on his way out of this depressing place when a tall white figure slinked its way from the darkness to the awaiting meal. Her coat was salted with dirt and grime, her pink mane lay lifeless and disheveled and a tired and sadden face watch stone slabs run underneath her as she walked to the table.

Some life returned to the creature when she saw the Brutus snuck her a needle and thread in the bowl.

Come morning Brutus returned to fetch the bowl and deliver breakfast. He found the prisoner near the table already putting the tools he gave her to use.

“What are you going to make this time?” he asked her.

“A scarf, it gets cold down here most of the time.” she said trying to make the most of the conversation.

Brutus went to get the bowl, “isn’t that what you made last time?”

The mare laughed, “It’s all I know how to make.”

Brutus nodded then his head snapped as a thought crossed his mind, “you’ve been here a long time how many scarves have you made?”

“I lost count.” She muttered just enough for him to hear.

Brutus couldn’t help but to stare at her; he imagined a dungeon filled with scarves, like a pile of leafs during the fall season.

“Well come on” he said moving his thoughts forward; “it’s time to raise the sun.