When Twilight checked the mail one bright and clear morning, she found a surprise waiting for her between the weekly Amarezon package (she'd been on a Philip K. Dock binge recently, and there was Neigh Gaiman's latest as well) and a bulging letter from her parents. Lying there was a white envelope addressed to 'Ms. T Sparkle', marked in one corner with a red shield. Inside the shield was a yellow talon crossed with a hammer, and underneath was a short phrase written in two scripts she couldn't read. It was no coat of arms she could recognise.
Puzzled, she opened it and pulled out a letter. “The Griffon Democratic Republic formally requests your assistance in the execution of GDR-Equestria international criminal case 1138...WHAT? What does a Griffonic court want with me?” Worst case scenarios began racing through Twilight's mind – had she been charged based on a case of mistaken identity? Was some criminal or spy using her name as a disguise? Did somebirdy in the GDR (was that the one with all the mountains? She could never keep Griffonic nations straight, there were just so many of them) just plain dislike her?
Twilight caught herself pacing, and realised that she had telekinetically grabbed a bag and a few essential wilderness survival supplies – which, if she were honest, consisted mostly of books. 'OK', she thought, 'calm down, let's just read the rest of the letter before we bug out and go be a hermit with Zecora for the rest of our lives'.
After a meditational breathing exercise or two, she managed to calm down enough to read the rest of the letter. As it turned out, she wasn't under arrest for something she didn't actually know was illegal. Instead, she was simply being summoned to the high court of the GDR in its capital city of East Birdlin, thousands of miles from home, in order to serve as a lawyer for a pony that could not be named for legal reasons, in a case that could not be described for similar legal reasons and she was expected to leave the day after tomorrow and cross the Sea of Atlantis in a Griffonic flying machine that according to most Equestrian science shouldn't even exist, let alone soar above the clouds.
Because that was so much better.
'But wait!', as the expression goes, 'there's more!' She would have a guide with her, to ensure a swift and safe journey to, through and from the Griffon Democratic Republic and to make sure that she didn't put her hoof in her mouth so hard that they booted her out as soon as she arrived. Twilight sighed. With her luck, her guide was likely to be either a bored kid being forced into the job as some kind of community service or else an out-and-out racist who would dump her off on her own at the first opportunity. 'Heck', she thought (before scolding herself for using such language) 'maybe my guide won't even speak Equestrian.
There was only one thing for it. She had to learn all she could about Griffons, the Griffon Democratic Republic and the GDR's laws in the span of two days – or rather a day and a half. Of course, that was likely to amount to very little, almost nothing and diddly squat respectively, but she'd had hard topics to research before. Griffonic laws might be tough, but compared to theoretical thaumaturgy they surely couldn't be that complicated. When she approached it as a research problem, the solution became clear: Group work. Simply find somepony who knew about Griffons and she'd be halfway there.
“SPIIIIIIKE!” The familiar yell rang through the library, and was followed by the sound of tiny, scampering scaled feet coming from the bedroom down to the library's ground floor.
“Yeah, Twilight?”
“I have an urgent project. If you're not in the middle of anything important, I need you to go and get Rainbow Dash for me.”
Spike snapped off a quick salute and jogged off.
“Oh, and if you'd like you can take a bit from the jar and get yourself something on the way back. No, wait, take two and pick me up some coffee as well.”
“How black are we talking this time?” called Spike from the kitchen, “Night in the forest black, or dictionary cover black?”
“Nightmare Moon, Queen Chrysalis and King Sombra playing blackjack at night during a new moon with my eyes closed and all the lights turned out black.”
“Yikes!” Spike sped off as fast as he could. A cup of coffee that black could only mean a serious national emergency – or, worse, that Twilight had forgotten to do her homework again. What a week that had been!
He returned some time later with Rainbow Dash, a cup of coffee that was blacker than the blackest black times infinity and the remains of a particularly nice pastry, to find Twilight at her desk with a surprisingly small pile of books around her. Instead of the mound he had expected – one that, if it were to fall on her, would stand a good chance of seriously hurting her – she had only gathered four or five books. What was stranger, some of them looked positively modern.
She turned as she noticed his arrival, and her eyes brightened. “Ah, there you are! Rainbow, I hope you don't mind, but I need to ask you a few questions. Spike, this is likely to get a little technical, so if you'd rather go off and read or something, I don't mind.”
“Sounds good to me. I think I might go for a bit of a walk.” 'And hey', he thought, 'maybe that walk will happen to take me past Carousel Boutique. You never know.'
“These questions aren't going to be about what me and Soarin' were doing on the night of the 16th, are they? Because I swear, my hoof to Celestia, that's totally legal in this county.”
Twilight blinked, puzzled. “You were with Soarin'? That's odd. No, no, nothing to do with him, although it does concern someone else you know.”
“I think you know all the ponies I do, Twilight. I mean, there might be a Wonderbolt or two you've never met, but apart from that we pretty much have the exact same friends.”
Twilight took a deep breath. Time for the truth to come out. “That's just the thing. She isn't a pony.”
“Who – oh, no. What's Gilda done now?” The question carried an unspoken undertone of 'and how hard will I have to kick her flank?'
“It's not that bad. But, it's also worse than that.” Twilight gave Rainbow Dash a quick summary of the situation, artfully leaving out the part where she had suffered a panic attack that Rarity might call a little over-the-top. By the time she was done, Rainbow Dash had one pressing question:
“Since when are you a lawyer?”
“After my brother joined the Royal Guard, I decided to take a part-time course in criminal law. You know, as a hobby.”
Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Only you, Twilight.”
“What?” Twilight tilted her head, confused. “Lots of ponies take an interest in their family's careers. You know, like how Pinkie keeps up with her family farm, and Fluttershy follows her dad's races.” When her father won a particularly big race, Fluttershy would buzz with excitement for days – at least, by her standards.
“There's a liiiittle difference between reading the back pages of Equestria Daily and getting a freaking law degree, Twilight.”
Twilight nodded animatedly. “Oh, I absolutely agree – I can't make heads nor tails of sports journalism!”
Rainbow Dash could only sigh.
“You know, I'm wondering something: How come this pony has to have a lawyer all the way from Equestria instead of from in the GDR?”
Twilight decided to ignore the grammatical awkwardness of Rainbow Dash's question. One uphill battle at a time. “Actually, I know the answer to that one. According to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Griffons, it's a common principle of Griffonic law that foreigners should be tried and sentenced according to their own laws. And as I learned in my earlier studies, Equestrian citizens don't just have the right to legal representation – they have the right to Equestrian legal representation.”
“Huh. Well, I guess that makes sense.”
“Yeah. Also, it turns out that it's possible for any commoner to request representation by a noblemare, if they feel that their low birth will unfairly influence the verdict.”
“Low birth? Gee, Twilight, I never took you for one of those unicorn supremacist weirdoes.” Although she had to admit that the idea of Twilight dressed up in one of those dorky costumes was pretty funny.
“What? Oh! No, no, that's not what I think, that's what the actual law says. It was written ages and ages ago, and even though it's worded a bit rudely by modern standards, it's applicable enough that it's never been changed. Although in practice, 'noblemare' is usually taken to mean any titled pony, not just a mare.”
“So did stallions used to not be allowed to be nobles or something?”
“They were allowed to be, but they didn't really count for the purposes of the law. The ponies of ancient Equestria could be real jerks sometimes.”
Rainbow Dash processed this for a few seconds, before her face lit up. “Wait a minute, I just thought of something.”
“OK, shoot.”
“You're not a noblemare! All you have to do is tell them they got mixed up and you'll be off the hook.” Rainbow Dash looked so pleased with her excellent deduction (surely one that no other pony could have made) that Twilight almost wanted her to go on thinking she was right.
“There's a bit of a problem there. As Celestia's personal student, I am technically a dame.”
“We're all dames, Twilight. You know, except Spike.”
“I mean the title. It's the female version of knight. Up until the wedding, me and Shining Armour had the same political station – it's just that he actually used his position as a knight, and I just went to a court dinner every now and then.”
“I thought a girl knight was a knight. I mean, that's what all the knights in the Balegariad are called.”
Twilight shrugged. “Well, they can be, but really you're supposed to choose dame. Celestia told me when I took the title that it was my choice, but if I chose knight it would make the paperwork really complicated, and that didn't really seem worth it. So now the only question is, when I only have a title on a technicality and I hardly have the best law degree around, why in the world would they choose me?”
“I think I can answer that one.”
“Please, do. I'm stumped.”
Rainbow took a deep breath and began talking. “See, here's the thing: Most Griffons don't really GET royalty. I mean, they understand that there's someone in charge for life, that's just a dictatorship, they understand that just fine. But being born into being the dictator, and all the other royals and nobles and courts and everything like that? It's a total mystery to them. They don't have anything like that, so they get lost in the duchesses and earls and baronets and stuff. So they probably picked you less because of your specific position, and more because they know you fit into that mess SOMEWHERE, and that'll probably be enough to satisfy whatever pony you're going to be lawyering.” By the end of this impromptu lecture she was a little out of breath.
“The most informed and educated thing you've ever said, tripped at the last fence by trying to use a noun as a verb.”
Rainbow Dash smirked. “Heh. Guess I just gotta be me, eh?”
“Still, that is reassuring. I was worried that this was going to be some kind of horrible international political mess.” A smile broke across Twilight's face, easing the worried frown that had been plastered there since she first opened the letter. “I must say, Rainbow, your knowledge of the Griffons has been a real help. I don't know where I'd be without you.”
Rainbow Dash made a gesture that was some kind of cross between shrugging and brushing something off. “Nah, I don't know anything about their laws or politics or whatever. I'm just going by stuff I remember from Gilda. Every freaking pony in flight camp wanted to know all about her old country, and I guess I picked some of it up.” She decided not to mention that most of what she had picked up consisted of Griffonic swear words and the few insulting talon gestures that could be reliably replicated with wings.
“I appreciate it, I really do. I feel like I'm really ready to face this now.”
2 DAYS LATER
“I'm not ready to face this at all!”
“Wow, you made it all the way up until five minutes before your escort's scheduled to arrive without panicking. I'm honestly impressed. Usually you would have panicked six times over by now.” Spike was, quite naturally, more concerned with enjoying the show than with calming Twilight down. He'd intervene if she looked like hurting herself, but until then why not let her have her fun? His only regret was that they were out of those little chocolatey raisins he liked to take to the theatre.
Twilight's cutting retort (that even she had to admit would have been weakened by the truth of what Spike said) was cut short by a sharp rap on her door. As she opened the door, she found questions about her guide flashing through her mind. What would they be like? Would they be able to get along with her? Would their translation skills be necessary, or not?
On the other side of the door, Twilight was greeted with the sight of a griffon who looked somehow familiar. She couldn't quite place her, but she'd definitely met this one before. She wasn't the one from the Friendship Express, though, nor one of the diplomats she'd met as a filly in Canterlot. She wondered who it could be.
The Griffon spoke, triggering another bout of déjà vu. “Alright, dorkmunch, let's get this show on the road before any of your lamebrain friends show up.”
Planes, Trains and Arguments
As Twilight juggled her bags and followed Gilda to the station, she had reason to be glad that she had already made a round of very thorough good-byes, with all the prerequisite I'll-miss-yous and promises to write and bring back interesting souvenirs. At the pace Gilda was moving, one might assume she was the one in trouble with the law – and it occurred to Twilight that she actually might be, if her theory about her guide being roped into the job out of Community Service held any water. Looking at Gilda's hunched shoulders and tense wings, Twilight decided it was probably best not to actually ask her just yet.
Twilight racked her memory to see what she could recall of Gilda's brief visit two – was it three? No, just the two – years ago. Certainly, she'd heard from Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie that Gilda was thoroughly unpleasant and generally someone to be avoided, but apart from that she was drawing a blank on the details. There was definitely something about one of Pinkie's parties, but obviously that didn't exactly narrow it down very much.
At the very least, she could be glad that they were making good time. Gilda's size, mean expression and fearsome appearance (Twilight hoped sincerely that that wasn't racist) cleared a path as easily as a snow-plow and a loudspeaker. Even the ponies who didn't remember Gilda's last visit, or just hadn't seen her the first time around, decided that giving her a wide berth was probably in their best interest. Following in her wake was a slightly surreal experience, akin to being surrounded by some kind of invisible and impenetrable bubble.
Even with all their luggage, they reached the station with plenty of time to spare until the 1:31 to Canterlot arrived. At least, Twilight thought of it as the 1:31 to Canterlot. In actual fact, they would be getting off at a stop just outside the city, where the bizarre Griffonic flying machine was waiting for its passengers. Twilight wondered what it would be like to be the only non-Griffon on board. The thought occurred that it might be something like the way Spike felt all the time. When she realised that she would be able to make notes, and then compare them, her mood brightened considerably. As far as Twilight Sparkle was concerned, nothing was quite as much fun as comparing notes.
She decided to strike up a bit of conversation. “So, how are you enjoying your visit to Equestria?” They were the first words either of them had spoken since the library, and if Twilight was perfectly honest they felt a little bit lacklustre.
Gilda started. After a moment or two of silence, she muttered “It's fine, I guess.” This sullen offering was followed shortly by “I'll be glad to get out of Ponyville, at any rate.” Twilight was reminded uncannily of the experience of trying to get a full sentence out of Spike whenever he was feeling particularly teenaged.
Twilight nodded in what she hoped was a chipper, can-do way. “Eager to get back home, huh?”
At the mention of home, something approaching happiness replaced Gilda's foul mood. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am.” At that, Gilda apparently decided that she was done talking, and Twilight left things there.
The train pulled in a few minutes late, which Gilda swore passionately and vulgarly would not have happened in East Griffony. Twilight was surprised to find that they would be travelling in first class, but apparently diplomatic and legal duty carried certain privileges. Twilight settled down on one of the plush red seats, and Gilda spread her leonine bulk across two and glared daggers at anypony who tried to sit too close to them. Even their luggage was given plenty of space, as if it were intimidating purely by association with the scowling Griffon.
After a few stops had passed, Twilight decided to attempt conversation again. Gilda might be happy enough to go to East Birdlin and back without saying a word, but Twilight was sure she could show her the error of her ways. “So, about this flying machine we'll be travelling in.”
Gilda snorted loudly. “Flying machine? You sound like somebirdy in a pulp fantasy story. It's called an aeroplane.”
Twilight tried to ignore Gilda's rudeness. If her partner was going to be uncooperative, then she would just have to put in extra effort to be polite. “Aeroplane, then. Is there anything I'm supposed to...do?”
“Do? What do you mean?”
“Well, are there any rules about it or anything like that? Is there a certain way I have to act once I'm on board?”
“Sure. If the engines won't start, you'll have to get out and help push.”
Twilight narrowed her eyes. “You're mocking me, aren't you?”
“Little bit, yeah.”
There was only so much rudeness Twilight could take. “Well, I'm sorry I'm not familiar with Griffonic technology that I've never seen before. Obviously, I should have a perfect understanding of it as soon as I hear its name.”
Gilda shifted in her seats until she could look Twilight straight in the eye. If Twilight was honest, staring Gilda in the face was a little unnerving. “And I'm sorry your dweeb-ass country uses spells and potions for everything instead of inventing a solution like somebirdy with a brain would.”
“Firstly, an entire country cannot be a 'dweeb', that would make no sense. Secondly, an ass is another name for a Donkey, which is an entirely different species to ponies! Most of them don't even live anywhere near us, they have some kind of indentured servant thing happening with the Dragons! How can you get us mixed up?”
“If it looks like a dork on hooves, and it sounds like a dork on hooves, and it acts like a dork on hooves, who cares what kind of dork on hooves it is?”
“Ponies don't look like Donkeys, you nitwit. The tails are completely different.”
“Whatever.”
They spent the rest of the journey in an uncomfortable silence. Twilight pondered turning Gilda's feathers green, or perhaps just gumming up her beak. Gilda, for her part, slept most of the way. That, to Twilight, was the most galling thing of all. Not only was Gilda happy to openly and publicly insult not just her but all equine species as a whole, but she cared so little about what she had done that taking a nap was perfectly easy for her.
'If I make it there and back without zapping her with magic lightning, it will be a miracle', thought Twilight. She had to admit, the idea of throwing around bolts of sorcery like some evil storybook villain was an entertaining one.
Eventually, they alighted a little way down the mountain from Canterlot. Twilight was disconcerted to notice that she and Gilda were the only ones getting on or off the train at this stop. The walk to the airfield was just as silent and uncomfortable as the last half of the train ride had been, and Twilight began to consider extending an olive branch to Gilda. Any such thoughts left her head as they reached the airfield and Twilight caught her first glimpse of the flying machi-aeroplane, she corrected herself.
The body of the thing was very long, and comprised of some kind of dull grey metal. At one end, it flared up into an odd shape covered with several painted designs and writing in an odd script. The other end narrowed to a round point below several rectangular windows. The wing extending towards Twilight looked to be almost as long as the vehicle itself, and lodged on the front of it was a propeller attached to something huge and ungainly.
How this thing was supposed to fly was beyond her.
The airfield itself seemed simple enough. There were buildings similar to those in the airports that Canterlot's airships docked at, and a few metal structures like those of the military facilities she'd seen visiting her brother both in Canterlot and his new home in the Crystal Empire. There was also a long, straight road like the ones some Pegasi liked to use to get a running take-off, although this was on a larger scale.
Gilda's mood seemed to have improved considerably. At first Twilight thought she might be some kind of mechanics enthusiast, before she noticed the Griffons milling around the Aeroplane. Three of them were wearing a blue-grey uniform of a professional and slightly militaristic cut, and the others were talking animatedly with them. As they drew closer, she was able to pick up more and more of their their conversation, though she couldn't hear it clearly until they were almost upon them.
“No, no, they'll never agree to it. The Easterners can't make anything stick, and everybirdy involved knows it.”
“I wouldn't be so sure. They've said similar things before, of course, but I can't recall them being so persistent before.”
“Bah. East Griffony rattles sabres as if it were their national sport.”
At the mention of her nation, Gilda decided to speak up. “It's really more of a pastime than an actual sport. Now, what are you decadent foreigners talking about, and how are you slandering the glorious workers' paradise?” Her tone of voice suggested that she found something very funny indeed, although Twilight couldn't for the life of her think what it might be. In the quiet that followed, Twilight tried to discretely drop her luggage in the pile with all the rest.
Most of the Griffons were stunned into silence, but one of the passengers was quicker on the ball than the others. He turned to the new arrivals and replied in a similarly light tone “What we are talking about, you joyless birdshevik peasant, is that spy who apparently got shot down over East Griffonic airspace.”
“Oh! Him!” Gilda waved a talon in a dismissive gesture. “No, he's nothing. Absolute maximum the Party will do is use him as an excuse to pull out of those talks next month.”
The one who had spoken nodded. “I expected it would be something along those lines. I'm Gavin, by the way, Gavin Wingsor.”
Gilda shook his talon. “Gilda Kittenpanzer. And this is Twilight Sparkle, who I guess is my charge, if that's the word.” Twilight wasn't particularly sure she liked the sensation of suddenly being the centre of attention in a circle of Griffons.
Gavin shook Twilight's hoof, and for the first time she got a good look at him. Though she wasn't quite sure how to judge a Griffon's age, she felt certain that he was older than her or Gilda, probably either in his forties or at whatever age was the equivalent for Griffons. His feathers sat flatter on his chest than those of any of the other Griffons, and he moved with a kind of relaxed slowness unique to those who have seen enough of the world to be satisfied with their place in it. “Her charge! I don't think I've ever met a charge before. What exactly are you charged with?”
“I'm, ah, somepony's lawyer. Representing the Thrones, you know.” Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Gilda talking to one of the uniformed Griffons and showing them a bundle of tickets and ID papers.
“I see. Well, I hope they're not too obviously guilty of whatever it is they're accused of – oh, look, I think we'll be taking off soon.”
Twilight turned around to follow his gaze. One more Griffon in the same blue-grey uniform was making his way (at least, Twilight thought he was a he) towards the aeroplane and the crowd around it. He nodded curtly to the other uniformed Griffons, and after one of them opened a door in the side of what Twilight assumed was the cockpit he made his way up a staircase that had lowered down to the ground. The passengers were directed to a similar door a few metres down the plane, and Twilight happened to be the first aboard.
The first thing that struck her about the inside was the size of it. When everything was designed to accommodate a Griffon's great bulk, a pony looked decidedly small by comparison. She let Gilda direct her to a pair of seats near the front, and tried not to feel like a foal who has been invited to the adults' table at a dinner party as she struggled to settle down in what was for her a significantly oversized seat.
She was pleased to see that Gavin was sitting across the aisle from her. She was about to continue their earlier conversation, on the assumption that Gilda was better left alone, when one of the uniformed Griffons stood up at the front of the room and motioned for their attention. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I welcome you aboard this flight to Clawsaw, with layovers at Birdmingham and West Birdlin. Please keep your seats in the upright position during takeoff and landing, be aware of the emergency exits to my left and right, and have a pleasant flight. You'll be with us for the next 18 hours if you're going all the way, and we hope you enjoy it.” With this, the Griffon turned around and went through a heavy looking door.
Twilight turned to Gilda. “You'd think the GDR would have put us on a flight that was headed to the city they want us in.” If there was one thing she'd figured out about her companion, it was that Gilda enjoyed a good complain. It seemed an odd way to get talking again, but maybe it would work.
Gilda shrugged, but at least her mood seemed better than it had been. “Well, there's not exactly a surplus of flights out of Equestria and into the GU. We're probably lucky we're not being dropped off in Purrich. Oh, and a word of advice – never call it the GDR until we're actually in-country. Nobirdy outside it calls it that. Instead, we are on our way to East Griffony.”
“But why would a country have two names? That makes no sense! And how come there are two Griffonies, anyway? Or are there only two?” Twilight was struck with a vision of a map of countless tiny Griffonies, marked in all the colours of the rainbow.
Gilda chuckled grimly. “No,” she replied, “just the two. The Griffon Democratic Republic in the East, and the Federal Griffon Republic in the West. They used to be the same, but...well, we don't really talk about it. Not with outsiders, at any rate.”
“I see”. Twilight decided not to press it. She had no idea what kind of catastrophe could split a country in two, but whatever it was she could understand not wanting to discuss it.
She spoke with Gavin about family, friends, and other small topics to pass the time for a while, but before long she found the drone of the propellers lulling her to sleep. She made her apologies to an understanding Gavin, and settled down in her conveniently large and bed-like chair.
An extraordinarily loud noise shook Twilight from her slumber. At first she assumed that it was a part of this bizarre machine's operation and prepared to have a bit of a grumble, before she saw that the Griffons looked just as startled as she had been. Following their gazes, she saw a sight that shook her fully awake – one of the engines was belching out ugly black smoke, and they were losing altitude fast.
