A Story of Freytara

“You are... certain of this?” Foxhale asked.

Ty flashed Foxhale a smile and clapped his hand on Foxhale’s shoulder. King Foxhale was now Duke Foxhale, Griffon Representative, and the former King’s Crown sat on Ty’s head, while Foxhale wore a much more modest, simpler crown atop his head. Ty said to Foxhale, “It’s all about doing the smart thing. Having all the races in Freytara be represented will not only help to bring all of us together as a brave new culture and people but as a more unified nation as a whole.”

Foxhale was then quick to raise a clawed finger and tried to give Ty the most intimidating glare he could. “What about the inevitable clashes between communities, families, and friends?” Foxhale sagely asked. Surely, Ty wouldn’t be so ignorant as to actually suggest they try to integrate everybody into a single living body. Surely, it would be much better for communities to segregate themselves into their appropriate groups on their own, as to avoid any interracial violence.

Ty waved a hand, shook his head, and then told Foxhale, “No, my friend. It is ultimately necessary for us to move forward with this notion, as this outcome was ultimately inevitable anyway. If not us, then those who will come after us.”

Foxhale was confused at the thought. Why would anything change? Everything is as it has been for a thousand years. Just because Ty showed up to rock the boat doesn’t mean suddenly everything changes. That was always how Foxhale saw the world, and what he was taught the world always was.

Yet, as Foxhale continued to listen to Ty’s newfangled ideas and principles that Ty conveyed with such confidence, Foxhale couldn’t help but wonder if Ty was a herald for more change after all.

Boreas was not a patient Griffon at the best of times. Being the Treasurer of Freytara, he was responsible for all the funds and all the expenditures and taxes of the new nation. The aged griffon had light gray fur as well as feathers of a darker grey hue, as well as played the part of the treasurer with He regularly goes into the treasury vaults to both check the number of funds stored there to make sure no embezzling occurred, and to keep himself distanced from all the idiots that wanted to spend the treasury’s money on the most inane projects...

An automated bubble blower prototype? Ridiculous.

A Clown School for Minotaurs? Don’t make me laugh.

An observatory for charting the stars? Why in the world would we do that when Luna, The Moon Princess, just moves the stars as she pleases?

So on and so forth. Really, the only thing that changed was the rate of ridiculous projects that demanded money and time, and both were at a premium, as far as Boreas was concerned.

This is why he promptly was sent into a panic when Boreas entered the half-emptied treasury.

Priceless gems and stones: gone.

Half the nation’s coinage: missing.

All of my patience: absent.

The world stopped, and so did Boreas’ heart. A million scenarios ran through his head, and they almost all ended with Boreas’ head on a pike. Even without running the numbers, there was no way that half the expenses the Empire accumulated could be paid for now with the money he could see. They would have to raise emergency taxes, and that was never good. There were few in the Empire who that would appeal to, and Boreas could count them on his talons.

Boreas wasn’t aware he was hyperventilating and making panicked noises with his beak until he realized he would have to report this. Holding onto what little was left of his shattered resolve, Boreas marched slowly to the throne room. The stone walls seemed all the colder and the figures in the tapestries gazed into his very being all the more. His failure to keep the Empire’s coin safe would be his undoing.

That was when he realized that somebody else was in the room. Spinning around, to his great horror, he discovered that it was his new Sovereign. Falling to his hands and knees, he blurted out and mumbled a thousand apologies for his failure as a Treasurer to keep the Empire’s coin safe.

What he did not expect, however, was a concerned hand clasping his shoulder. Looking up, Boreas saw the face of Ty, a bemused look on his face. He asked, “Do you know why this place seems a lot emptier, Boreas?”

“B-Because a filthy gang of thieves managed to sneak past the defenses, sire?” Boreas pitifully asked Ty back.

With a chuckle, Ty then said, “No, man. That was all me.”

If Boreas was at the depths to which surprise and shock could take him, this newest revelation then took him beneath what he had assumed to be the absolute state of shock and terror. Was his Sovereign an irresponsible and senseless creature? What kind of expense would justify this sort of reckless spending?

“I know what you’re thinking, Boreas. It’s not like that at all,” said Ty. What was this madman talking about? He continued, “It’s all an investment, see? I’m investing in the sort of thing that makes Equestria a pretty popular place to be for the ponies. From roads to railroads to water towers and post offices, you name it. If I can invest in these things, then they will be available for citizens to use regardless of their class or standing.”

Ty stood back up. “And yes, we can tax these things, too.”

Boreas stammered, “W-Well, we’ll have to adjust the budget, then.”

Standing back up himself, Boreas was relieved that he was, in fact, not about to face trouble and perhaps even the gallows. The prospect almost had proved too much for the old bird’s weary heart. Thankfully, this wasn’t the case, and the nightmare that Boreas had dreaded had been narrowly avoided.

“But...”

Oh, dear. Here it comes.

“I still need one more expense to file, Boreas. Just a formality.” said the Sovereign.

Boreas then said hesitantly, “What do you require of me, my Liege?”

Ty then retrieved a flyer from his person and presented it to Boreas. Taking it, Boreas read the flyer, which was promotional for a party that was to be held in the Imperial Palace a month from now. It was a diplomatic affair, with a party that the general public was invited to, and a private feast, that Ty would invite the leaders of the major players of the neighboring lands of Freytara.

“I understand, my Liege,” dutifully said Boreas.

Ty then clasped Boreas's shoulder and gratefully replied, “Thank you, Boreas. I’ll be sure to reward you for your thankless service.”

Boreas had decided that Ty would make a good Sovereign after all.

Making sure not to be seen, Foxhale ducked into the alleyway and crouched behind a trash can. The hooded and cloaked figure would, to a mere passerby, appear only as a beggar, with the ratty cloth that the cloak Foxhale wore was made of. After some period of waiting, Foxhale determined that, thankfully, he was not being followed, and rapped his fore knuckle three times on an adjacent alleyway hatch that led to a basement. After another period of waiting, the hatch opened, granting Foxhale access inside.

It was a dark and forbidding place that Foxhale then entered, but it was the dwelling place of the Spymaster. The title of Spymaster was awarded to the most talented and secretive of the ring of spies that Foxhale’s father and his fathers used to maintain. It was a tradition that Foxhale begrudgingly allowed since a network of eyes and ears would still be useful to him in the defense of his new station. He may no longer be King, but he could still exercise great power.

At the end of a dank and stony hallway, was a simple room. The Spymaster had retreated to it and awaited the arrival of Foxhale. Inside was a simple table with two chairs. The Spymaster, likewise having garbed himself in dark robes, would be unidentifiable to all but a select few within the Freytaran government.

The Spymaster had already situated himself on the far chair, and it creaked slightly under the weight of his person and his many hidden weapons. Foxhale only knew that the collection of knives and other such weapons would be envious to any soldier or any collector of items of a similar nature. Nervousness rising, Foxhale took the time to comfortably seat himself in the chair opposite of the Spymaster.

There, the Spymaster finally spoke. “Thank you for answering my summons, my Liege.” said the Spymaster.

Clearing his throat, and dusting off the table idly, Foxhale said, “You said you had some critical intelligence regarding a threat to our country, Spymaster.”

The Spymaster merely nodded, his beak barely being lit by the solitary candle on the table. He withdrew a book from his person and presented it to Foxhale. Taking it slowly, Foxhale opened the volume to a bookmarked page. What was presented to Foxhale from the text and the accompanying visualization was the stuff of nightmares. The artist had drawn a living shadow. It hunched over and stood on four legs, which ended in serrated claws. The face of the thing itself had a shape that was hard to pin down as anyone creature, be it pony, griffon, diamond dog, minotaur... or human.

“Spectrals have not been seen in our lands for many hundreds of years, my Liege. They are the remnants of an ancient evil that have all been but forgotten. When my predecessor stabbed our Sovereign with the last Blade of Surt, it sent him to the last known location of these beings.”

Studying the dark descriptions and the artist’s rendering of the creature, Foxhale couldn’t help but shudder. Had his Sovereign had to deal with these things? Didn’t he say something about an infection? What should happen should this infection take hold and consume Ty? The results, Foxhale determined, would be disastrous!

“I have thought of how best to handle this situation, Sire. This is an unprecedented event, one which we will have to approach with extreme caution.” reported the Spymaster.

With no small amount of trepidation, Foxhale realized that the Spymaster was correct in his assertions about the seriousness of the situation. Sovereign Ty may be able to ignore the effects of his time in Tartarus now... but it may come to Freytara’s ruination in the course of time, should this infection not be dealt with. It was with a feeling of relief, then, that Foxhale knew that the Spymaster would not report to him on the situation without becoming prepared with a solution for this predicament.

Slowly, and with ice in his voice, the Spymaster said, “In all the recorded histories of the Spectrals, there have been no instances where the possession is cured or removed from the Spectral host. This is irreversible, and it really will cost the Sovereign his life this time. We must act to ease the Sovereign’s passing.”

Of course, the solution the Spymaster presented Foxhale with was hardly the ideal one. If he was careless about this, it would only send a signal to the populace that Foxhale wished to retake the throne from the current Sovereign, Ty. This was hardly his plan, as he only wanted to serve his people, but if that was what it came to...

No. There has to be another way. It cannot just come to this senseless mercy killing in the name of preserving Freytara. There must be a spell, a magical remedy, a plant, a root, an incarnation, a burst of light, anything to cure Ty of this dark affliction. The more he thought, the more a plan came to Foxhale. There would be a summit in a month’s time. Then, and only then, would he confront the Sovereign with the ultimatum. He had a month to get together a team of specialists and experts in the fields of magic and healing. There has to be a way of Ty being cured of this.

If not, then Ty the Sovereign would have to be martyred again.