Blue, part two: A shattered country

Equestrians had plenty of existing preconceptions about griffons. They thought of griffon cities as mountainside fortresses with plenty of guards roaming around, decorative, but worthless towers lining the landscape, and houses made mostly of rocks. That was, of course, a meaningless prejudice.

It was a complete coincidence that the capital of the griffon nation looked exactly like that.

There was a single griffon overlooking the silent city from his quarters. His name was Sharptalon. He was also less than pleased.

The news of their crushing defeat reached back to their capital after only one day. All of the invading force, dead. All funding invested in them, gone. Equestria, unconquered.

But what irritated him most was the simple fact that he still did not receive permission to do as he pleased.

He was devilishly cunning. This was not arrogance, it was a fact. Every military action he had his claws in ended in complete and utter victory for the Griffon Empire. Yet the king has not given an order for him to act.

He turned away from the cityscape. Even when furious, he could keep his calm. In a way, that was the most dangerous thing about him.

His quarters had no guards positioned nearby. He would view it as an act of distrust, of course, and would act accordingly. Yet there was a very bored-looking griffon wearing guard uniform in the nearby plaza. His curiousity got the better of him, and he headed down to meet this lone guard.

Strangely enough, the guard didn’t seem to be panicked when he approached. He shifted into a somewhat more alert position, but he neither said or did anything else.

"What are you doing here, soldier?" he said, cutting to the chase. The griffon shrugged.

"Searching for some kind of a restaurant, sir. It's way past lunchtime."

"Is that so? Tell me, why did you think that the Iron District would contain anything related to that?"

The griffon scratched his head with a displeased look.

"I got lost again? Damn…"

Sharptalon raised an eyebrow.

"A city guard that gets lost in his own city? That's one for the jesters."

"I only got transferred here recently, sir," the griffon replied with a slightly annoyed expression. "Something about having problems about the number of griffonnel in the area."

That was true, as far as Sharptalon could tell. That moron brought not only the bulk of the military, but most of the civilian police force with him, too. And now that they've been all slaughtered, there were unfamiliar faces all over the city.

He came to a decision. The most powerful weapon in this case would be information. Information about Equestria, or the High King. Anything he could use to strengthen his position.

"I can offer you a light meal," he said with his least condescending smile. The soldier hesitated, but then nodded slowly.

He wordlessly showed the stranger the way to his strangely common diner. The guard's face made it clear that he expected something far more fancy. Sharptalon smiled inwardly, and signalled his butler to serve dinner.

"So tell me, son, what is your name?" he said while gesturing towards the seats. The soldier took a seat before replying.

"My name is Quiller Palefeather. I was born in the capital, but then we moved west to a smaller village. So technically I'm fairly lost around these streets, but I somehow manage. Nothing too interesting, sir."

Sharptalon gave him a good look. The soldier was a dark shade of brown, with grey feathers around his chest.

"You do not seem too pale, son."

Quiller grimaced in response.

"You should have seen my grandmother, sir. Pure white feathers."

In the meantime, two butlers arrived carrying a few plates of different dishes. Sharptalon immediately turned his attention towards his beefsteak. After all, you have to know what are the really important things in life.

Quiller seemed a bit overwhelmed by the choices, but then he took the plate with roast trout. A casual viewer would have thought of it as a peasant's dinner, but the roast was prepared with special spices that were marinated in olive oil. Adding in the fact that fish was hard to get by near the capital, and you had a dish that could truly be considered a sign of wealth.

For a while, neither of them said anything, but simply enjoyed their respective meals. But as everything, this came to an end, too.

"So tell me, son, why have you joined the military?"

Unlike Equestria, the griffons had a single force uniting the army, the Royal Guard, and a nominal police force. Anyone joining would be transferred to the needed roles immediately.

"I think it was because of my family," Quiller said. "My parents… well, let's just say that I've lived with my grandmother until recently."

He looked up at the High General, and he saw something deep within those eyes.

"I'm not going to let her come to harm," he said with a serious tone.

Sharptalon let out a hearty laugh.

"Well said, boy! At the same time, we're not really at the best position to do so."

"Why?" Quiller asked.

Why not tell him? he thought.

"It's simple my dear griffon. Thanks to that incompetent fool, our military is in ruins. We are ripe for the taking to any advanced nation around us. But to achieve true peace, we need to crush Equestria. They have a certain… knack for toppling empires."

The soldier's voice was full of disbelief.

"Crush Equestria? With what? Negative intentions?"

Sharptalon gave a condescending laugh.

"No, boy. I see no one has thought about this. Griffons view magic as something abominable, chastising the very few mages we were lucky to produce. I, on the other talon, have studied magic extensively. Whatever happened back in Equestria, I'm fairly sure Celestia did it. What little we could gather, I could also deduce that she is most likely recovering from the backlash. Therefore this is the prime opportunity to remove her from the picture."

"There's still one more alicorn alive." Quiller's voice was calm.

Sharptalon raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, banished to the moon. What is your point?"

"If things are truly as you say, wouldn't killing Celestia free her sister from her imprisonment? I mean, sooner or later... sir."

"Ah, but she was always the one to be influenced from the outside, yes? I will offer her a place befitting of her; the queen of an empire."

Clank.

Quiller paid no attention to the tableware he just sweeped to the floor, and instead glared at Sharptalon.

"Queen?! You mean, you would turn her against her own people?"

"Why not?" the High General asked calmly. "They never appreciated her anyway. With her on my side... I could become the next emperor."

"What?!" Quiller shouted. "That's treason!"

"I don't care," said Sharptalon. "No one can crush my ambition. I've worked hard to reach the place I am today, and I don't intend to stop here. I want to be a legend, with an empire worthy being called such! Too long have we bowed to those we should rule by right! And if that dim-witted 'Emperor' stands in my way, I'll just remove him by force!"

"You're insane!" Quiller spat. He frantically rushed out of the room, nearly pushing the two butlers over.

"Tsk, tsk," Sharptalon said. "It seems I require your services once again, Gorebeak."

The left butler bowed.

"Of course, sir."

The following day, he hummed a happy tune as he prepared for his regular audience with the king. Gorebeak never let him down. Sure, he'll have to do without his services for a few days, but after he erased every trace of that soldier, he'll be back with a polite nod to serve him again.

As usual, the High King made him wait a good ten minutes before calling him into the audience chamber. Sharptalon said nothing about his little power plays, but made a mental note of them everytime, to bring them up later, in a more... restrained environment.

"Sharptalon," the king said wryly as he entered the room. "It seems you have been accused of various misdeeds... as usual."

The High General flashed a cocky smile.

"Just so, Your Majesty, but I can assure you, it is but baseless rumour."

"... if that dim-witted 'Emperor' stands in my way, I'll just remove him by force!"

All colour left Sharptalon's face.

"Who? What...?"

The king looked at him as one would look at an insect.

"It is over, Sharptalon. This ridiculous game of cat and mouse I had to play with you for years had finally come to an end. Did you think I would just sit by while you try to dethrone me? Only your popularity kept you alive. If I executed you for no reason, a riot could have broken out. But now... this... this is exactly what I needed. Solid proof of your treason. It's over, Sharptalon. As of now, you have no one left on your side."

To the kings surprise, Sharptalon laughed manically.

"...Heh... Well done, boy, whereever you are."

...In a mountain a good day's flight from the griffon capital, a single griffon looked over the plains beginning at the root of the mountain.

He smirked to himself. To anyone he came into contact with, he would be known as 'Quiller.' He found it quite ironic that he chose a name that represented the core of him in the very nation's language he was infiltrating.

Of course, things had not gone according to plan. But, unlike a certain pony, he had much more success improvising.

For example, getting invited to the very house of the one he was spying on.

If he hadn't that magical object on him, there would have been trouble. Thankfully, griffons in general hadn't seen magical artifacts, and even Sharptalon couldn't decipher the purpose of it, provided he had the chance to spot it in the first place.

That artifact now laid in the talons of the High King, replaying every single word of their conversation at the push of a button.

Of course, there was the chance that he wouldn't spill a single valuable piece of information. That was overcame with a good sleight of the claw. Hidden in the sleeve of his uniform was a certain mixture that found its way into the melted wax of the burning candles. As they waned, most of it evaporated, causing the High General to become more... talkative.

He chuckled to himself again. Technically, he didn't tell a single lie. He simply didn't mention a few facts. For instance, his grandmother indeed had the purest white feathers you've ever seen.

Her mane and tail would have been a different matter, though.

Getting the artifact to the High King was easier than expected. As soon as he got rid of the butler, he was apprehended by royal guards. It seems he really kept a watchful eye on Sharptalon.

He shrugged, as if answering a question.

It wasn't as if he was prepared for the butler. As he jumped out of the shadows with two large scimitars, 'Quiller' nearly had a heart attack.

But that was behind him, and the butler was left in a dark alleyway charred, and smoking.

'Quiller' shook his wings. Blending in is fine, and such, but the fake wings he was disguised with still couldn't carry him. He spoke the word releasing the seal on his disguise.

The person standing on the mountain could no longer be called a griffon. He nonchalantly stood up on his two legs, and cracked his somewhat elongated neck.

"Seriously, it was really hard not to eat all those gemstones they paraded around with."

He brought a claw to scratch one of his purple scales. His next task laid in the Crystal Empire. He hoped for an easier job this time.

After all, he did save them from a bloodthirsty tyrant.