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// Chapter 12: Shades of Grey Clouds (Part II)// Story: Sunshine and Fire// by BornIn1142//------------------------------//

Chapter 12: Shades of Grey Clouds (Part II)

As she stepped closer to the throne, Twilight quickly realized that King Humphrey might not have been quite as elderly as she'd originally thought. As a matter of fact, he was probably not even middle-aged. Yet, he sat hunched over like some graybeard, his eyes were sunken-in and squinty and the loose feathering on his head gave him a balding appearance. His dull, light gray plumage also made him look older than he really was, and the rich cape of carmine velvet he had wrapped around him despite the heat seemed ill-fitting and overlarge. In truth, there wasn't a bit of majesty to be found on his person. Sir Reynald looked more like a king than the King himself.

Having reached the elevated platform, Reynald and Gilda fell into deep bows. Twilight, Fluttershy and Spike followed suit as well, bending their knees and lowering their heads. They stayed in that position for several long seconds. When Twilight dared glance up at His Altitude, she found him massaging the bridge of his beak with his talons as if trying to scratch out a headache.

Looking up, Twilight's gaze fell on the griffon standing at the King's right-hand side as well. For a second, Twilight thought she could see something like recognition glint in his piercing, yellow eyes. Before she could feel queasy at the notion of discovery, the expression of the counselor – or whatever he was – had already returned to being so unreadable and so inscrutable that any trace of emotion showing on him at all seemed like it would have been nothing more than the figment of an overactive imagination. This griffon's plumage was a darker shade of grey – almost black. His head was wider and flatter than other griffons', more like an owl's than an eagle's. Large tufts of eyebrows stuck out to the side of his face. He stood very close to the King.

A sigh from Humphrey drew Twilight's attention back to him. "Are you really going to make me ask before explaining this, Reynald?" He gave his foreleg a quick wave. "Oh, and rise. Get up, you."

The group stood up. Twilight found the King's voice vaguely surprising. Based on his appearance, she'd expected something wheezy and weak, but instead he spoke with clarity and authority... in sound if not in tone.

"It is my honor to introduce the ponies Twilight Sparkle and Fluttershy and the dragon Spike – here as a diplomatic envoy to represent a faction of ponies rebelling against the Equestrian Empire."

"A... diplomatic... envoy," drawled Humphrey, "Is that so?" He did have a powerful voice, but seemed to use that power mostly in the service of sarcasm.

Sir Reynald simply ignored the jibe. "Indeed, Your Altitude."

"You surprise me, Sir Reynald," boomed a heavy female voice from near the throne. It took Twilight a moment to realize that it had been one of the guards speaking – it was difficult to say which one, since she'd remained perfectly motionless, as still as one of the statues around the city. "I never thought you would sully His Altitude's throne room by bringing ponies here. Their lies will foul up the very air we breathe!"

Twilight had to cringe at her words, and Sir Reynald frowned. "The ponies have already made an overture of peace towards us, Dame Frederica. They provided us with intelligence regarding Equestrian troop movements, and even ensured the safe return of one of my scouts trapped behind enemy lines."

The guard's head was covered by a visor, but Twilight could quite clearly imagine a glare. "Back in my day, we wouldn't have hesitated for a second before burning whatever intelligence ponies had to offer into ash. You Talons are our first line of defense, and you are a fine knight, Sir Reynald. Do not let our convictions falter."

King Humphrey's eyes flickered over to Gilda. "And I'm assuming you're the scout in question? What is your name?"

"We've actually met before," said Gilda with a slightly insolent raised eyebrow, "but... ah, it's Gilda, Your Altitude. And I don't know if this is worth much, but they did help me out and I swore to take responsibility for them while they are here."

King Humphrey acknowledged her with a nod of his head and then refocused his attention on Twilight. "We shall hear you out."

Twilight took half a step forward, tried to ignore how the King's armored bodyguards drew tighter around him so she could barely see him, and reminded herself that diplomacy was, in essence, nothing more than the art of making friends writ large. That's all there was to it.

"I realize this must be a position you never expected to find yourself in, Your Altitude. In fact, the circumstances here are even more extraordinary than you realize. I'd have a hard time believing the story I'm about to tell you myself, but I think you and your court deserve nothing less than the naked truth. We're here to do big things, Your Altitude. We'd like to discuss an alliance between our humble group and your people, in the hopes that both our homelands might be saved."

The King seemed pleasantly energized by her words. With a lopsided grin on his beak, he stood up straighter and addressed the whole throne room. "Officials, courtiers, associated hangers-on, as this seems like it's going to be a highly sensitive matter of state security, I would ask that you excuse yourselves. I'm afraid I'm going to have to cancel all non-essential appointments for the time being."

Most of the bystanders remained politely silent at the announcement, but there were some grumbles to be heard. Not only did the griffons have business of their own to bring up with the King, they must certainly have been curious about the developing situation. Many of them looked over their shoulders with quizzical or worrisome glances as they filed out of the throne room. The throne room emptied up considerably, but not completely. King Humphrey's idea of a private meeting still involved over a dozen griffons, not including the guards at the walls and four of the King's Claws around the throne itself. Gilda used the minutes it took for the crowd to progress out of the throne room to coach Twilight some more about the court.

"The guy with the giant cravat is the representative of Parliament," she muttered, "And there's the leader of the Order of Aeromancers – the floating one." She discreetly nodded towards a plump brown griffon lady hovering near the throne. Twilight was going to ask about that, and perhaps why the leader of the Aeromancers had her eyes closed and was muttering frantically to herself under her breath rather than paying attention to the proceedings, but found herself distracted by movement from the other side of the throne. The King's dark counselor had leaned closer to him and whispered a question. King Humphrey's response was half a nod and half a shrug.

"Never mind about them," whispered Spike, "I want to know who that guy is." He took the words right out of Twilight's mouth.

"That guy." Gilda looked impassive enough, but she also drew in a sharp breath before continuing. "His name is Lord Willard Fairweather. His official position is Chancellor to the King, but..."

She was interrupted by the doors of the chamber slamming shut after the last griffon to leave. King Humphrey was on the ball right away.

"Feel free to carry on, Lady...?"

"Twilight Sparkle. I'm here on behalf of the Apple Underground, a group of ponies fighting against the tyrannical reign of Queen Celestia. But that doesn't tell you who I really am..."

And so she related her story once more, for what felt like the hundredth time. She told them of her origin and the way things were meant to be, of her journey to their world, and of her quest to find a way to bring down Daymare Sun. She told them of the Princesses and the opportunity they represented to defeat Equestria. Explaining this whole business had long since gotten tiresome and Twilight wished she had some way to simply skip it, but she tried not to let her frustration show. A much bigger concern for her was the expected shadow of skepticism she saw fall across the faces of her audience. It was plain to see that they did not believe her. Gilda, who'd heard the story before in Fluttershy's cottage, looked like she'd have liked nothing more than to sink underground and disappear.

"Highly dubious!" thundered the female knight from earlier as soon as Twilight finished. She had to be more than just a bodyguard. No one in Princess Celestia's Royal Guard would have been allowed to interrupt as she did.

King Humphrey, after a long moment of stillness, leaned back on his throne and rested a foreleg against his head. "I never thought I would have to tell you this, Reynald – dear, dependable Reynald – but when bringing in someone for an audience, I would expect you to screen out the obvious crazies!"

The rebuke genuinely seemed to sting Sir Reynald. He reddened slightly, and let his perfect posture sag. "Your Altitude, I-I didn't..." he started before a wave from the King silenced him.

"I suppose this meeting is going to be shorter than I expected," mused King Humphrey, "Well then. I can't say I understand where you're going with this, but can you give me even one reason to believe you, Lady Sparkle?"

It was a debate Twilight was coming to hate. How wonderful would it have been to move past this pointless back-and-forth and get to the real meat of the issue? Unfortunately, Twilight had no evidence, nothing to demonstrate the truth of her words. She hadn't yet formulated a response to sidestep the issue when a quiet question from over her shoulder threw her for a loop.

"Have you been outside recently?"

King Humphrey leaned forward, straining to hear. "Pardon me?" he asked, with only mild incredulity.

"Have you been outside recently, Your Altitude?" repeated Fluttershy, "There's an honest to goodness raincloud outside. How do you think that could have happened? Who do you think would have the power to do something like this? Only the Queen... or in this case, a Princess."

Right. That should do. "Our Princess Luna sent you this cloud as a gift," improvised Twilight quickly, "to ease your burden and to strengthen your resolve. This is meant to be the first step on the road to recovery for this world. An alliance between us could be the second."

"Their tale isn't as implausible as it sounds if you think about it, Humphrey." Lord Fairweather chose this moment to speak up. "Movement through space is nothing for pony magic. Why, they can even travel through time! Is traveling from world to world so far beyond belief then?" His voice sounded neither like an eagle's nor an owl's. It was like the croak of a raven.

King Humphrey cocked his head. "You really think it could be, Willard?"

"Oh, certainly," responded the dark griffon hastily, "In fact, I'm rather sure they're telling it true. If these were Equestrian agents engaged in some sort of plot, the last thing they'd do is invent such an unbelievable story. What would be the point?"

Sir Reynald's eyebrows slowly arced into a scowl. "And who would know truth from falsehood better than the master of lies himself?" Twilight was a little shocked by the sudden ferocity in his voice, and Lord Fairweather himself seemed to flinch as well, but recovered smoothly enough. "Why thank you, Sir Reynald," he responded with a thin, fake smile.

"Believe me, no compliment was intended!"

King Humphrey was quick to cut through the resulting awkwardness. "You have my attention, milady, but I could do with a little more detail and a little less inspirational fluff." Despite his words, his expression was veering from snide to thoughtful.

"I'll be happy to explain. The Apple Underground has a plan for bringing about the defeat of Queen Celestia. Nothing and no one has been able to challenge her for the last millennium, but now we have two goddesses of our own who can and will overcome her. They're just going to need a bit of assistance with getting the Queen's forces out of the way. This is where you come in. An intervention by the griffon army could free the path to the Equestrian throne."

"An intervention, you say?" repeated King Humphrey, "By the griffon army? I don't know if you've noticed, but the griffon army is a tad busy with the defense of our borders at the moment."

"Yes, well..." This was the tricky part. "It would be necessary to evade the invasion force and push forward into Equestria itself. That's why swift action would be crucial to the plan. If we act fast, we can force Equestria to surrender and forgo the invasion entirely."

The King did not respond right away. He bent forward, running a talon through the thin feathering on his scalp. "Forgive me if this question offends you, Lady Sparkle, but have you ever worked as a maid-servant?"

"Er, no?" replied Twilight, "It doesn't, and I haven't. Can I ask why-"

"Because you would offer my kingdom to Equestria on a silver platter!"

There was silence in the throne room after King Humphrey's outburst. Even though he'd barely raised his voice, the words were still ringing in Twilight's ears.

"I know it sounds counter-intuitive-"

"Oh really?"

Twilight tried not to let the sarcasm get to her. "But if you think about it, with the vast majority of Equestria's standing army congregated at your border, the rest of the country is left relatively vulnerable, including the capital. Everfree City's garrison has no reinforcements to hope for. It's as vulnerable now as it ever has been or ever will be. A surprise attack now could end the war before it really begins."

King Humphrey sucked in a breath, then let it out as a monstrously long sigh. "How many griffons are you thinking of?"

"Um, as many as possible, I suppose? Everfree City is too big to secure with just a few thousand."

"Well," said Lord Fairweather loudly, "This is it, isn't it? The chance we've all been waiting for." Despite the wide breadth of his words, he seemed to speak only to the King, whom his unblinking yellow eyes were fixed on.

"It can only be a trap," declared the female knight again, the one Sir Reynald had called Dame Frederica.

King Humphrey looked first at one, and then the other, but did not address either of them. He continued speaking to Twilight. "I am genuinely stupefied that I'd even have to ask such a thing, but you do realize that this would leave most of our population completely defenseless?"

"It might be necessary to temporarily evacuate the capital and its environs, or distract the invasion force somehow. I don't know. I'm sure we can figure out a way to stall the advance if we put our heads together!"

"The risk..." The King snorted a completely humorless laugh. "You cannot expect me to take such a risk with the lives of civilians."

"But..." Fluttershy's quiet interjection echoed through the chamber like a ripple in a pond.

"Go on, Fluttershy," said Twilight, "What were you going to say?"

"Even if your forces stays here to defend the Kingdom..." she offered out while staring at the floor of the throne room, "the Equestrian army will destroy you anyway. You understand that, right?"

"If that is how it must be, then so it shall be," declared Dame Frederica.

"It would be a good death," agreed one of the other Claws, "glorious and meaningful."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," added another one.

"I... what?" asked Twilight.

"As knights, we're all prepared to lay down our lives in the defense of our people," explained Sir Reynald. He seemed to realize how vague that sounded, for he went on after a brief pause. "We are fully aware of our odds in the coming battle, but we do not fear it. Though it may be our last stand, we shall make it a proper one, worthy of the legacy of our ancestors. The rest of the country feels the same way."

"I would not expect a pony to understand," added Dame Frederica.

For a heartbeat, King Humphrey looked like he was on the verge of rousing anger, but he didn't quite seem to have the energy for it. Twilight caught a glimpse of a surreptitious roll of his eyes.

"If you're going to kill yourselves," said Lord Fairweather, "I welcome you to do it. Thankfully, I know that we are a nation of griffons, not lemmings. There are many who would prefer survival to your glorious suicide. I think the children of the Griffon Kingdom, Dame Frederica, would welcome the death by old age you're so fearful of."

"And since when are you so eager to fight after all your harping about peace, traitor?" shot the female knight back, "You, who would have sold us all into slavery if you'd had the chance? We all know what your idea of survival would mean – an existence without sovereignty or dignity as a 'client state' of your Equestrian masters."

"We don't exactly have a lot of options at this point, do we? My plan was the last and best hope for peace, but you ruined it. We could have adapted and persevered as other races have. So what if we might have had to sacrifice a few freedoms to ensure our continued existence? At least now we have another opportunity to escape the hole you're so insistent on burying us in." He leered at Twilight and curved his beak into something like a smile.

"You will throw in your lot with the enemy one way or another, is that how it is?"

"I saved our Kingdom and you would do well to remember that, you ingrate! If my agents hadn't sabotaged the Equestrian railroad, the invasion would be underway and we'd already be drowning in blood."

Dame Frederica had been a model guard until that point, staying stationary almost to the point of absurdity. Now, a quiver seemed to run through her, and for a moment, Twilight thought she would lunge at Lord Fairweather and attack him. "You know less than nothing about what it means to be a griffon!" she said instead.

"If you're so proud of this so-called achievement, then why not explain how your intelligence network managed to find out about these maneuvers in the first place?" asked Sir Reynald.

"Well, that would be rather stupid of me, wouldn't it?"

"I'm sorry, but I feel like I don't know who I'm speaking to anymore?" said Twilight.

"Apologies, milady," said Sir Reynald, "You have the honor of addressing Dame Frederica Greenhill the Avenger, head of the King's Claws and one of the most distinguished knights in the kingdom."

Dame Frederica turned her masked face towards Sir Reynald, then at last lifted up her visor to reveal a generous tuft of feathers whiter than snow. It was hard to say whether she was born with such plumage or whether it had grown lighter with age – for this griffon was old indeed. Her jowls were sagging and her beak shriveled and soft, but her dull eyes honed in on Twilight and her friends with a judgmental intensity. In lieu of a greeting, Dame Frederica bowed curtly.

"And this, of course," said the King with an indistinct wave to his right, "is my trusted adviser Lord Chancellor Willard Fairweather, the Royal Spymaster."

"I... had heard that griffons did not believe in spies," said Twilight carefully.

"You heard right, milady," said Lord Fairweather with another crooked smile, "But alas, that does not mean we have no need for them."

"Enough," said King Humphrey, just in time to cut off a rebuke from Sir Reynald, but he seemed unsure of how to go on from there. He held on in silence for nearly a minute while Twilight and her friends stared at him expectantly. "So, you think a surprise attack by our forces could bring a decisive end to the Equestrian Empire? I generally have a great distrust of simple, catch-all solutions being thrown in my lap, but then again, this isn't exactly simple, is it? And..." The King sagged on his throne. "And I'm afraid... there is another issue that will make your plan unfeasible, quite apart from the strategic considerations."

"What do you mean?" asked Twilight, "What other issue?"

Sir Reynald cleared his throat. "It would not be honorable," he said with a jarringly kindly smile.

Throughout the whole conversation, Twilight's mind had constantly been at work processing information. Now, all her thoughts came to a screeching halt. "What do you mean?" she asked, already fearing the answer.

"Facing an enemy army in open battle – whether from the front, flanks or rear – that's how wars are meant to be fought," said Sir Reynald, "Ignoring the enemy's challenge and choosing the path of least resistance by attacking an undermanned settlement would not be chivalrous. It's underhanded trickery, not the way of knights."

For a moment, it seemed like King Humphrey would hide his face behind his talons, but then he only let them fall limply to his side. Twilight found herself stumped on what to say or what to do. Spike glanced up at her, his mouth as wide open as she'd ever seen it.

Come to think of it... Sir Reynald had announced himself and his troops when he'd found them back in the borderlands. Twilight remembered him telling Fluttershy that a griffon never strikes the first blow – but not in a million years would Twilight have thought he was being literal! The image of griffon patrols standing in front of a pony army and telling them to please leave before meeting them in combat crept into her mind's eye, and it was so ludicrous she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"With all due respect..." started Twilight, her voice almost shaking, "You can't be serious. I- I might not have expressed our intentions as clearly as I should have. We're not discussing an attack on the civilian population or anything like that! Everfree City is a valid military target. I don't see what difference it makes if we take them by surprise!"

"I don't blame you for feeling that way," said Sir Reynald with infuriating patience, "But we are knights. We must hold ourselves to a higher standard."

Dame Frederica picked up where he left off. "As with all things, there is an etiquette to warfare. It is the way of the Equestrian Empire to pillage, burn and stab their enemies in the back like cowards, and it is the way of its victims to give up their righteousness in desperation, by convincing themselves that the ends justify the means and taking up whatever deplorable tactics are convenient to them. We know what happens in the rest of the world. Zebra guerillas meld into the jungle, camel nomads hide in their desert dunes and reindeer raiders in the polar ice. They murder some Equestrian bureaucrats and call it revolution. We griffons are still free because we've remained steadfast in our ideals. As the peoples of the world descent further, we must strive ever harder to be a beacon of nobility to remind others of what is right. Even if we are butchered to the last, the spirit of our heroism will live on to inspire others."

The impromptu speech only crossed Twilight's wires further. Though the tone of indignation never quite disappeared completely, Dame Frederica sounded appreciably more open and peaceful as she explained the philosophy of the Griffon Kingdom. She seemed to speak from the heart. Somehow, that made things worse.

Lord Fairweather's counterpoint was a quiet, bitter cackle. "I can scarcely imagine the cognitive dissonance you must feel every day while you try make me the villain for wanting to save people."

"I can honestly say I feel no compunctions about dismissing whatever pretexts you use to drive your plots currently. I am of course persistently baffled that our merciful King lets an amoral parasite like you live!"

"Please, Dame Frederica," said Sir Reynald, "Can we not speak of this? We made a mistake addressing him at all."

"You are right, of course, Sir Reynald. I should not let that cur get to me!"

King Humphrey suffered this debacle in silence, sneaking a glance at Lord Fairweather over his shoulder but not speaking out to stop the argument. "So you see," he said loudly to Twilight, "I cannot give you my army. The only option I can think of – and this is speaking hypothetically, mind you – is asking for volunteers to step forward, an expeditionary force..."

"Show me those volunteers, Your Altitude," said Dame Frederica, "and I'll show you nothing more than deserters, not fit to be called griffons! I have every confidence you will not find such rabble among our brave troops."

The King closed his beak, in a motion that Twilight supposed would have made a pony look like they were grinding their teeth.

"What about King Gilbert?" asked Twilight, surprising even herself. King Humphrey cocked his head to the side in query, so she went on. "King Gilbert the Great was one of your ancestors, I believe. Didn't he foil the first pony invasion of the Griffon Kingdom in... the Battle of Traps, was it?"

It seemed relevant to the conversation. She didn't know any of the details about how the battle played out, so bringing up that half-remembered tidbit of information was a bit of a gamble, but the payoff was immediately obvious – every knight in the room cringed as one. Gilda looked embarrassed as well, though her reasons were harder to discern. The King covering his beak with a wing could have passed for shock, but Twilight thought she could see amusement twinkling in his eyes.

"King Gilbert was a model knight and remains an example to us all," said Sir Reynald, "But... even he made mistakes."

"So the traps in that battle were his, weren't they?" asked Twilight, almost letting a snide follow-up about honor slip out as well in her exasperation.

Sir Reynald couldn't even bring himself to admit it. "His conduct throughout the rest of the war was immaculate."

"King Gilbert the Great was also the monarch who established the position of the Royal Spymaster, as I recall," cut in Lord Fairweather, in a tone that suggested he was far more interested in mockery than making any sort of legitimate argument.

True to his earlier promise, Sir Reynald ignored him. "We live in a very different Kingdom nowadays. The first invasion happened at a relatively barbaric time in our history, but this is a new age of chivalry..." He fell silent and turned to Dame Frederica for further guidance.

The elderly knight did not address the matter at all, but swiveled around to face King Humphrey. "Your Altitude, I implore you," said pleaded and commanded, "turn these ponies away. They are preying on our foolish hopes for a salvation. Do you think these creatures are as innocent as they look? Do you you think it matters that they are colorful and adorable? That is how they've ever gotten others to lower their guards and wreaked havoc. It would be a mistake to underestimate them. We mustn't let weakness slip into our ranks with pointless debates when we know what is right and what is wrong! There can be no compromise!"

"Need we go quite so far, Dame Frederica?" asked Sir Reynald carefully, "An alliance between us might be worth considering. Obviously I could not condone stooping so low as to use deception to achieve our ends, but there must be other ways we can benefit each other. Should we not consider the possibility that they are being genuine?"

"Even if they are being genuine, association with them and their ilk would stain us and affront our principles. Nothing good would come of it." Twilight had never heard anyone sound so sure of herself in her life.

Sir Reynald bent his neck. "Perhaps you are right."

Sir Reynald didn't even believe what he was saying – that much was obvious from his tone – but he said it anyway, whether out of solidarity or deference or whatever else. Twilight had known him for no more than a couple of hours, so she knew she had no right to feel as betrayed as she did by his attitude as she did. The debate seemed as good as over, and Twilight had never even come close to winning over the griffons to their cause. It was difficult to fathom the scale of such a failure. Would Celestia's plan even still be feasible without the griffon army? Everything depended on Twilight...

"Equestria is counting on you thinking this way," she suggested, trying not to let her voice shake, "With all due respect, a philosophy this rigid makes you predictable. You're playing right into their hands."

"I don't think it matters," said Dame Frederica.

Lord Fairweather had leaned closer to the King to whisper in his ear again, and even made a move as if to put his taloned foreleg on the King's shoulder, but Humphrey shook it away.

"This alliance as the ponies imagine it would be impossible, of course," said King Humphrey, "but I would not send them away just yet. I will make one concession towards pragmatism. We will... detain the ponies for the time being, and learn as much else from them as there is to learn. It may take a while to discern truth from fabrication."

Twilight's throat tightened at what looked like the King turning on them, but thinking about it, the situation was not really all that sinister. It actually seemed like the King's way of keeping the dialogue going.

"They are our guests, not prisoners," said Dame Frederica in apparently completely genuine outrage, "It is a great offense to break one's trust to your guests."

"Would you rather stay or leave, Lady Twilight?" asked the King.

"We will stay," said Twilight right away, "But we don't have a lot of time to-"

"Then it is settled. We will speak again in a little while. Hey, you." He was addressing Gilda with that. "Why don't you show your charges to the guest rooms and make sure they're settled comfortably for the time being?"

The griffon in question first flinched in surprise, and then lowered her head – half a bow and half a nod. "Yes, Your Altitude."

Twilight had no idea why the King felt the need to call this recess, why he expected Gilda to know her way around the palace, or why Sir Reynald offered to accompany them there, but she had little capacity to care for such details at the moment. As much as she'd have liked to argue for carrying on right away, she couldn't deny that part of her was relieved for the chance to rethink and reassess her approach. The atmosphere in the throne room was getting to be too much. Passing by the guards and remaining courtiers, with every eye on her, felt like a walk of shame. She'd expected resistance from rational disbelief, but not this.

Sir Reynald guided them out through a small side-door in the throne room, leading to a badly lit corridor and stairwell, but the door did not close after them. Twilight was still deep in reverie, replaying the conversation with the King and his advisers in her head and frantically trying to think of ways to turn things around, when she heard someone clearing his throat behind them. She looked over her shoulder to find Lord Fairweather slipping into the hallway. He let the door fall shut and blanketed them all in darkness when the torchlight from the throne room no longer reached them. There wasn't much visible of him except his bright yellow eyes.

"I was hoping to have a word in private, Lady Sparkle."

Maybe it was because she was distracted, but Twilight found the Chancellor's eyes almost mesmerizing in the gloom. She hadn't quite caught on to what he was saying, let alone formulated a response, when Sir Reynald already decided for her.

"She has nothing to say to you."

Twilight quickly realized that she dearly wanted to know what Lord Fairweather had to say to her, but the words to say so died on her lips before she could say them. She couldn't ignore the unbidden question at the back of her mind – did she really want to alienate Sir Reynald and lose the support she still hoped to gain from him to engage someone as obviously unpopular as the Royal Spymaster? Given a few seconds to think, she might have come to the conclusion that it was worth it, but she didn't have that time. Gilda placed herself between Twilight, Fluttershy and Spike and Lord Fairweather. Before she knew it, Twilight and her friends were being herded onwards, as if escaping from a house on fire.

Twilight remembered something then. Back when she'd reached the throne room, she'd had the momentary impression that Lord Fairweather had recognized her. Who could he possibly have recognized her as?

"Things weren't always like this, you know," said Gilda.

"Like what?" asked Twilight, knowing she should have been paying more attention than she was.

"So... set in stone," said Gilda, and sighed, "Don't get me wrong, chivalry has always – always – been important. Proper, honorable conduct, and all that stuff. It's a way of life; it's what griffons are all about. But it used to be that there were different ways to be chivalrous, and not everyone who wasn't was a bad guy. There was a bit more space to..." She paused for a bit – Twilight imagined to remind herself that no one that would have minded what she was saying would have been rude enough to listen in. "...be yourself," she finished.

"Everything changed five years ago. All of a sudden, the sun was right on top of us and burned away every bit of normalcy. It didn't edge here bit by bit; it just appeared in a blink. We all knew what it meant – we were being softened up. The ponies were coming. We'd had a long time to prepare for it, but still we weren't ready, not really. The hospitals were filled with heat stroke victims, and some of the folks that were out in flight when it happened never showed up again. Others were blinded. The army had to move out to secure the borders, and militias were appearing left and right all of a sudden. There wasn't quite a panic, everything held together at first, but that was just the beginning. The heat put everyone on edge, and the uncertainty was a thousand times worse. Everyone knew that the end of everything we knew was coming, but no one knew when. The water and food shortages sure didn't help things any either. It started with a single riot about the rationing, then a second one, and suddenly there were riots all the time – about food distribution, about defense strategy, about I don't know what. When people saw how afraid others were, they realized how afraid they were themselves. It was like an infection, like a plague. It was especially bad here in the capital. Looting and doomsayers perched on towers and... sedition. Surrender was unthinkable at first, but more and more people started thinking about it, and some were saying it out loud. Things were looking bad.

"King Humphrey did the sensible, clear-headed thing at every turn, but it wasn't enough. The nation needed someone to inspire them – or shame them, whichever worked. So he sent out the knights. I know you might not have gotten the best impression of Dame Frederica and the others back there, but they really did save our asses back then. They inspired and shamed about equally. They reminded everyone of the right and proper ways, of discipline and bravery and the strength of solidarity. They reminded us that we were supposed to be better than our enemies. They drew the battle lines and made things clear again. They made us want to fight. The common people got back the... zeal they'd lost. I really think the nation would have devolved into anarchy without them."

Gilda was standing in the middle of the guest room, telling her tale looking vaguely like a performer on a stage. It was as if she'd just finished up a spoken-word recitation or something, except there was no applause. No one was in the mood for that.

Spike was laid out on a small couch while Fluttershy was sitting in an armchair taking minute sips from a glass of water. Twilight stood next to the window and balcony door, which were covered by a heavy cloth. She was peeking through the makeshift curtains outside into the open air, but she could not say what she was actually looking at or looking for.

"That's all good to know, Gilda, but it doesn't really help us turn things around," said Spike, scowling in consternation.

"It does tell us something useful," said Twilight , "It's not really King Humphrey we have to convince, is it?"

"But he's the king!" said Spike, "He makes the decisions, and his bodyguards have to listen. Right?"

"It's not that simple," said Gilda. She idly moved one of her talons to scratch her bandaged wing, then pulled it back when Fluttershy shot her a glare. "You're not getting how much influence the knights have."

"Well, what could they realistically do if King Humphrey made up his mind to help us?" asked Twilight, looking over her shoulder at Gilda.

"If they thought his decision would irreparably shame the Griffon Kingdom..." Gilda stumbled on her words, paused for a moment, then sighed and went on. "A lot. Most of the military would support the knights over the King if they proclaimed he was deeply wrong about something."

"Do you mean... Gilda, you can't seriously tell me the knights would rebel against King Humphrey over this matter? Surely they would be too honorable for that?"

Gilda shrugged. "They might be too honorable not to."

Twilight fell silent and pondered some more. "If it came down to it, who would stand with the King?"

"Probably at least some in Parliament, and some of the forces loyal to them. I bet the aeromancers would stick with His Altitude as well."

"What about Lord Fairweather?"

"Discussing his loyalties would be a... whatchamacallit, oxymoron?"

"And what would you do?" asked Fluttershy.

Gilda didn't look for a moment like she actually wanted to answer, but she seemed to think she owed Fluttershy the truth. "I'd go along with the knights," she said, bowing her head in shame, "The Kingdom needs certainty right now, but with King Humphrey, you never know which way he's going to turn and how many of ideas actually come from him. Basically, the knights always know the right thing to do, but the King has to think about it."

The admission led to a semi-awkward silence. Twilight turned back to peek out of the window, trying to puzzle things out. If she thought about the parties involved, Gilda and King Humphrey seemed a lot more alike than Gilda and Sir Reynald, or Gilda and Dame Frederica. Twilight didn't think for a moment that Gilda agreed with the knights on everything – but still she followed them. And why? Because of ideological purity? Twilight would have called it moral absolutism, and she found their earlier demonstrations of it in the throne room insane and counter-productive, but all the same, she found she could not hate Reynald and Frederica. They were only trying to be good people, weren't they? Even though their views put them squarely at odds with rational behavior, they were only trying to be good people. It was annoying that they couldn't see eye to eye on this... no, it was more than annoying, it was painful. It bothered Twilight more than anything about the situation. She was a good pony too, wasn't she? They were all good people. It didn't make sense to quarrel.

There seemed to be only one person in court that was on her side and – well – what was she supposed to make of him? She'd been so willing to dismiss the look he'd given her upon her arrival, but now it seemed impossibly conspicuous in her memory. If he really did recognize her, then there was only one pony he could have mistaken her for, wasn't there? Yet he had said nothing to anyone. Or had he? Twilight didn't know what he and King Humphrey had been whispering about. She had no idea what agenda the Royal Spymaster was pursuing. He seemed willing to go along with Princess Celestia's plan, but it seemed he'd also tried to get the Griffon Kingdom to surrender to Equestria previously. What did he really want?

Of course, Twilight could not discount the possibility that she was making too much of things either – that she was paranoid over nothing.

"How long has that been lying there?"

Twilight turned to look where Spike was pointing – the floor in front of the entrance. Indeed, she found a small glossy piece of paper, not unlike a postcard. They would certainly have seen it coming in. Twilight cantered over to it, picked it up with her horn and examined it. The front was a complicated weave of tiny lines and etchings; there might have been a drawing hidden there, but the card was entirely too small to make anything out of it. When Twilight flipped it over, she found text on the reverse. Look behind the obvious, it said.

"Huh," said Gilda.

"Does this mean anything to you?"

She meant the text, but it was the picture Gilda recognized. "It's a reproduction of some famous piece of art. I don't remember what it's called, but I've seen it over at the Royal Art Gallery. Darn, what was it again? It's on the tip of my tongue. Something about a duel..."

All of a sudden, Twilight didn't think she'd been making too much of things at all. Someone had slipped them some sort of secret message. The griffons had neither the will nor the need for such secrecy, except of course for Lord Fairweather. He was still trying to make contact, but for what purpose? Could Twilight afford to say no to it?

"Where is the Royal Art Gallery?" asked Twilight.

"Right here. Up in the citadel tower." Gilda pointed one of her talons towards the ceiling, but her eyes were fixed on Twilight's. She seemed both fearful and annoyed, expecting Twilight's next question.

"Can you take us there?" asked Twilight.

There was a moment in which Gilda was stuck in time, completely motionless with her beak hanging slightly open. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Think about it!" said Twilight, "This has got to be from Lord Fairweather. I don't know what he's trying to pull, but- but if he's really some sort of spy, then maybe we can nail him?"

It wasn't a lie – not really. She wanted to know what Fairweather had to say, but if her suspicions proved correct, then exposing him might have been just the thing to give Twilight the political capital needed to turn the rest of the court around. Gilda did want to help them, and this gave her a chance to do it without too much conflict. She still seemed hesitant, however.

"I'm supposed to look after you, not get you into trouble," she said.

"Please?" said Fluttershy, "Um, you still owe us, you know."

Gilda's expression slowly faded into a wry half-smile. "Uncool, Fluttershy. Real uncool." She sighed. "Let's just go, okay?"

Twilight counted 25 stairs on their way up – her legs were starting to feel rubbery by the end of it – and the museum itself was spread over several floors as well. Spiral staircases led further up into the high tiled ceilings. Aside from the works of art filling it, the museum was no more adorned than the utilitarian interiors of the rest of the tower. As they got higher, the temperature did as well. Each floor was worse than the last, with the museum at the upper limit of tolerable. Twilight tried not to think about the sun directly above their heads, only a few kilomers away, and focused on the galleries.

The griffons seemed to have little use for painting. All the works of art on display seemed to be sculptures, engravings or reliefs. Not all of them were made of rock either. They walked past one statue of a griffon that was made of moldy old straw, paired up with one made of opaque glass, and some of the others they glimpsed were even more avant-garde. Twilight thought she could detect subtle differences in works carved by talons or tools. She also noticed that there were no lone statues. All of them were either paired with identical copies or opposites. Again she found that she would have relished a chance to research griffon culture at a more opportune time.

"I'm pretty sure it's this way," said Gilda, leading them up one of the spiral staircases.

"How do you know your way around here so well anyway?" asked Spike.

"Hmm? Oh, I used to be stationed here."

"You were a palace guard before becoming a scout?"

"Uh huh. Well, I was actually training to become a knight, but, uh, I flunked out pretty early. Oh, there it is." She gestured a wing at the wall across from the landing.

The little postcard hadn't prepared them for how enormous the original work was. It covered most of the wall, from floor to ceiling. Even though she couldn't make much sense of the work overall, Twilight had to admire its almost mathematical symmetry. The relief was split in two halves, each of which was in turn split in two halves, and so on and so forth. It was composed of tinier and tinier segments like a fractal, each of them depicting a different theme or idea that matched up with a counterpart diagonally across from it. A small plaque next to it on the wall named the work "Dualities" and gave the names of its sculptor and her fifteen assistants.

They'd found the work – but what next? Twilight circled around the hallway but found no one lurking in the shadows. She'd expected someone – either Lord Fairweather himself or perhaps one of his agents – to be there waiting for them, but this gallery was as empty as the rest of the museum. Had they come at the wrong time? Had they already missed whatever clandestine meeting was scheduled there? Lord Fairweather did not strike Twilight as someone that would drop the matter this quickly. Then again, maybe there was nothing to find. Maybe she was making too much of a piece of litter.

"Look behind the obvious, hmmm," repeated Twilight.

There seemed to be another piece of paper sticking out from behind the top of the relief. She could just barely see a glimpse of white below the ceiling. The discovery was actually a slight disappointment. As riddles went, it wasn't exactly impressive. She pointed it out to Fluttershy, who gave her wings a flap and delicately plucked the second piece of paper from behind the relief. Twilight grabbed it from her once she landed. This one was largely blank, possibly stripped from a notepad. There was no text on it, only a string of numbers. She showed the paper to Gilda.

"Does this make sense to you?" she asked.

"It's a date and a time," said Gilda, "Midday three months ago. Huh, three months ago tomorrow, actually."

Was it a message? A secret code? What was this?

Twilight lifted a hoof to wipe some sweat from her brow and rotated the piece of paper around in mid-air look at it upside-down and sideways, but could detect nothing else on it. She read over the numbers again and again, looking for a hidden meaning or cipher she might recognize, but came up with no such thing.

"Did something happen three months ago?"

Gilda's eyes glazed over for a moment as she considered, but only shrugged in response.

Twilight did another circle around the upper gallery, took a glance down the staircase they'd come from and peered up to the next floor as well. There was no one else around. She bit her lip and turned to Fluttershy and Spike. They were staring back at her, waiting.

"It's probably for the best," said Gilda, "If someone had seen you up to something suspicious, they might just have distrusted you guys more. I don't know what you were expecting anyway."

"I don't know what I was expecting either," said Twilight, frowning.

Gilda led them back to their room, and then let them be.

They spent a while – no more than a few hours – in harried preparation for their next meeting with the court. They talked over various strategies strategies they might adopt and rhetorical ploys they might attempt. For Twilight, at least, it was difficult to put the looming invasion out of her mind, so each minute felt like wasted time, which was made all the worse by the fact that their discussions failed to produce any really solid ideas. It did drive home one point for her though: logical arguments alone would probably not enough to turn the griffons around. Appeal to emotion wasn't exactly good form for debate in general, but it was what Twilight suspected she'd have to turn to in this case. The question was which emotion?

Twilight had an inkling of an idea when Gilda returned to take them back to the throne room. She ran a speech through in her head on the way down, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gilda looking less than confident.

The audiences with the King had continued in the meantime, with the throne room looking virtually unchanged from earlier on. His Altitude King Humphrey the Third was still slouched on his seat, with Lord Fairweather at his side and his Claws lined up around him. Dame Frederica had pulled down her visor again. Sir Reynald greeted Twilight and the others with a bow. Some of the dignitaries in the chamber were shuffled around from their previous positions, and the leader of the aeromancers had opened her eyes and stopped her previous muttering. As she looked over the arrivals with sad green eyes, a thought occurred to Twilight. She realized what the griffon lady had been doing before – she had been praying.

"Do you have anything new for me, Lady Sparkle?" asked the King.

Twilight thought it a rather strange question. He had said earlier he wanted to find out more from Twilight, but why did he put it in such vague terms? Why did he give her another opportunity to speak if he'd already decided that an alliance would not work? In fact, Twilight was still a bit confused about why this recess had been called in the first place. She would have liked to think all this this meant that King Humphrey wanted to go along with her proposal, and was only waiting for her to say the right things that would let him supersede the arguments of his guardians. Perhaps he had given Twilight a break to give her time to come up with something else to drive the discussion along. If that was true, then Twilight hoped not to disappoint.

"Your Altitude, I want to reiterate my previous point, that a joint attack on Everfree City is the best way – the only way – to resolve this conflict and avoid disaster. To that end, I would like to tell you about the Griffon Kingdom of my world."

King Humphrey sighed, and bid her to carry on with a wave of his talons. Despite the subdued reaction, there was an interested gleam in his eyes.

"There is no Griffon Kingdom in my world," continued Twilight sharply, pausing to let the words sink in, "It's gone. So many great people and administrations, so many high ministers and brave knights, so many proud princes and power so splendid – all of it gone. It was wiped out by a natural disaster centuries ago. In modern times, the facts of the existence of the Griffon Kingdom only exist on paper, known at best to dedicated scholars. Its survivors have assimilated into other cultures. No one ultimately remembers the nobility the griffon people once aspired to."

She was being so disingenuous...

Once upon a time, there was a king of the Griffon Kingdom that wanted to be more. His delusions of grandeur led him to dictate that his subjects worship him as a god, and over time, he grew to be jealous and resentful for the power and influence Princess Celestia wielded due to her control of the sun and the moon. That king was approached by a rogue unicorn wizard with knowledge of the old spells that had allowed unicorns themselves to move the celestial bodies in the past. Together, they formed a pact to take the world. But something went terribly wrong when they tried to annex the sun. One unicorn was not enough to affect such a spell, and most of the Kingdom was obliterated in the few seconds it took for Celestia to react and set things right again.

How could Twilight reveal that their race had already been doomed by the approach of the sun once – or that it was an alliance with a pony that had led to their undoing? She could not. It would be foolish and counter-productive. She was trying to make a point.

"You said earlier that you hoped a heroic death would inspire the rest of the world," Twilight carried on, resting her gaze on Dame Frederica's armored form, "but death inspires nothing. Only the living can do that. You have to be more than a memory to teach others!"

Only now, with her heart feeling like it was bound by a tighter and tighter knot, was Twilight coming to realize how counter to her instincts saying all these things went. Was she wrong to do this? Wasn't she acting exactly as manipulative as the griffons were accusing her of being? And yet, another voice in her head whispered other questions to counter these: What harm could it do? Was it not worth it? She could no longer tell whether she herself believed what she was saying, and that troubled her, but it was too late to turn back now; she had to carry on. The silence in the court gave her free reign to continue.

"If you perish fighting the pony invasion, you'll be remembered for your defiance, not your idealism. If your last stand is impressive enough, it may well be spoken of for one or two centuries, but in the end, I'm sorry to say, you'll be just another race of victims when you could be so much more. You could be remembered as not just the people but the individuals who managed to beat the Equestrian Empire against impossible odds! Your names could be in the annals of history alongside Gilbert the Great, Humphrey the First and the famous knights who served them! All that glory could be yours, with one... small... compromise."

There was only a minuscule change to King Humphrey's expression. Twilight might have made too much of it by thinking he looked disappointed.

"There are no small compromises," said Dame Frederica, less fire and brimstone now, but no less steely in conviction, "There is right and wrong, good and evil, true and false. One cannot dip over the line and expect it not to affect them. We are who we are, and we cannot 'compromise' our existence for you no matter what you say. You are not of us and only know the morally vacuous thinking of ponies, so you cannot judge us. Being a martyr is about more than public opinion. We will take the moral high ground over glory, thank you very much."

The King remained silent, but he was still looking down at Twilight expectantly. A subtle arc in his brow made him look more sympathetic than usual, but it came off more as pity for her struggling than anything else. Lord Fairweather was so tense beside him he was almost quivering. What were they waiting for? Couldn't they see she'd tried everything she could think of?

Twilight sneaked a glance at Gilda in the sidelines, and found that she had averted her eyes. Sir Reynald, the only knight present whose face was visible, didn't seem the least bit swayed. If anything, he seemed less kindly disposed towards her than before.

They were all expecting her to go on, but she could think of nothing else to say.

"You cowards."

Twilight sincerely hoped she had gone insane. For a moment, she wished nothing as much as that something inside her had snapped that would have caused her to imagine Fluttershy saying such a thing. Slowly, she turned to look behind her, at the pegasus. Fluttershy was staring sullenly at the floor, but the look on her face was... spite?

"You are!" she insisted, eyes flickering back and forth as if she was looking for an escape route, "Y-you're not afraid of dying, but you're so scared of failing your own absurd standards and being judged by your peers! You said public opinion isn't why you do this, but that's not true, is it? Even if you've convinced yourself there's some real breach of morality here, the truth is that you knights have come to be held for such perfect paragons of goodness that you're frightened to death of not living up to that! Don't you realize how insignificant this whole argument is? And how can you be so focused on your personal complexes when the survival of your people is at stake?"

Twilight wondered whether she should interrupt, but found that she could not. If Fluttershy had the courage to come out and say these things, it was only right that she get to finish.

Fluttershy's mouth had twisted into a bitter smile. "You're just like me... I was also willing to stand by and do nothing instead of taking responsibility, but at least I knew how pathetic I was! You're not foolish little girls, you're strong and skilled enough to make all the difference in the world! Well, you know what? If you're not willing to save people, then you don't deserve to have such a high opinion of yourselves. You're- you're so arrogant! You keep putting down ponies, as if there weren't thousands of innocents that aren't kept in slavery or killed trying to stand up to the Queen on our side as well. You've had it easy in comparison! If you were real heroes, you would save them. S-save us..."

She lowered her head even further so her bangs covered her eyes, but they could all see the tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping to the marble floor. If there was a tone to silence, then the entire timbre of the throne room changed at the sight of her crying.

Twilight's own breath caught in her throat, and she felt mildly delirious from the rush of a dozen different thoughts in her head. She dismissed the idea of Fluttershy putting on some sort of show to clamor for sympathy before she could fully conceive it. She'd never seen anyone be more genuine. This Fluttershy may have been orders of magnitude more cynical, but she was still pure. The griffons could tell. All at once, Twilight realized how little chance she'd given for Fluttershy to contribute by taking all the responsibility for Celestia's mission on her own shoulders. This may have been just what they needed. She turned and had another look around the chamber, and almost gasped when she remembered her own thoughts from earlier – these knights in shining armor, they could not resist a damsel in distress...

"Ahem... I'll join you even if no one else does." It was Lord Fairweather speaking from his perch next to the throne. "I'm not much of a warrior, but I might be able to make some small difference."

Twilight wasn't sure whether to be impressed or worried over how ably the Royal Spymaster had seized the opportunity. He'd been able to pick out the one precious moment where saying that came off as valorous rather than dastardly. As if Fluttershy's exhortations weren't enough, Lord Fairweather acting so far out of his context as a sniveling adviser must have been like a slap in the face for the knights. The one they considered the least among them came off as the most chivalrous.

The Claws were shifting uncomfortably and turning to look up at the throne. One of them cocked their head to one side. Sir Reynald, on the other hand, couldn't take his eyes off Fluttershy, and looked as if he had to physically restrain himself from stepping up to comfort her. Twilight could hear whispers from the other dignitaries in the throne room. She took a deep breath and said the one thing she'd somehow neglected to come up with so far.

"Won't you please help us?"

King Humphrey cleared his throat. It felt like he was intentionally slowing himself down, keeping himself from blurting out a response.

"You've given me much to think about, Lady Sparkle, Lady Fluttershy. In fact, you've offered me a very interesting perspective I had not considered. I may have rushed to judgement in my earlier summation that an alliance between us could not happen, and I dare say I'm not the only one who feels this way. Don't you think, Dame Frederica?"

There was another precarious moment of silence in which the whole throne room waited for Dame Frederica's response. Again, Twilight was reminded of a statue looking at her still, armored form, but this was not a comparison she wanted to be thinking of at the moment. The pause dragged on. The knight was no longer completely sure of herself. She had to think about what to say.

"Yes," she said at last, "It is true that there are lines that should not be crossed, but there is something to be said for having enough self-awareness to measure your steps towards these lines. And there is honor in recognizing when you could be mistaken..."

As oblique as her wording was, it sounded a lot like she was coming around. Twilight released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her heart was pounding; at some point during the last minute or two, all of her despair had been replaced by an irksome hope.

"There is a lot to being a knight, isn't there?" prodded King Humphrey further, "There are various ideals to balance, but some ideals are undoubtedly more important than others, wouldn't you say?"

"Indeed, Your Altitude."

"Do you share that view, Sir Reynald?"

"I... I believe knighthood can be a great burden for exactly this reason. All of our ideals are important. When they do clash, however, then surely it is best to err on the side of standing up for the weak and down-trodden..."

"You're not going to fall off some slippery slope," said Spike, sounding very pleased with himself, "You can fly."

King Humphrey smiled. He looked almost handsome when he wasn't being sarcastic. "As I said before, I could never spare all of my..." His voice faded, and so did his smile. He'd just noticed something behind them.

Twilight turned around to look and saw that the entrance door was open. There was a specter standing in front of it, having slipped in without a sound.

The new arrival was another knight, wearing the same bright armor as Sir Reynald, but even taller and bulkier.. He approached the throne briskly, ignoring everyone but the King, and as he stepped closer, it became obvious that his armor was smeared with what could only have been blood.

"May I have a word, Your Altitude?" asked the knight in a deep, incongruously calm voice.

King Humphrey leaned forward, perforating the armrests of the throne with his talons. Twilight shared his dread. "It's begun, hasn't it?" asked the King.

The knight nodded. "As predicted, Equestria opened with a synchronized envelopment by its pegasus troops along the land border. Our scouts confirmed that their main force is moving along the Valley of the Wind, and retreated to the designated defensive lines. The invasion has begun."

Fluttershy had raised her chin again. The tears had dried, but the weary shock in her eyes was not much better. Spike had lifted his hands to his head and was chewing his lip. He would have been pulling at his hair if he'd had any. Twilight imagined she looked rather calm by comparison.

Even if King Humphrey had put all the griffon forces at their disposal the second they'd walked in the door, they wouldn't have been able to get them all off the ground by this point. The few hours that King Humphrey had kept them waiting would never have made a difference. It was liberating, in a way, to know that the onus of responsibility was not on her and never really had been. They had been too late from the beginning.

Next Chapter: A Sick People.