After the fall of his empire, Grover is left friendless and hunted. But a passion rises in him, he will take his throne back, or die trying.
The Griffonian Empire falls, due to traitors within, and enemies without. Grover VI, the deposed emperor, is forced to flee from his home. As his situation continues to deteriorate, he will be forced to confront the sins of his house, and the graciousness of his sworn enemies.
Based on the Equestria at War mod for HOI4 This is my first FIM fic, I've only seen a bit of the show so please excuse any inaccuracies.
3/11/24, minor grammar alterations, prepping next chapter.
Edmin’s talons moved across the warm deck of the stricken ship, the wood creaking where the day’s struggles had weakened it. The fires were mostly put out by now; mostly. Regardless, as much supply needed to be salvaged from it before it completely sunk. Edmin wondered once again why this was his job, the fourth son of a minor Vedinian lord, his father had sided with the Grovers during their invasion of the Northern Kingdoms. They didn’t get much for their loyalty (or disloyalty depending on who you asked) in terms of land. Still, Edmin’s brothers had secured major positions, and Edmin became the harbormaster of Turhamn, the capital of Vedinia. It was a tedious job, but it paid well and Edmin was content, at least until the Grovers picked a fight with Nova Griffonia, and Equestria, their masters.
The war in question had been very unpopular, but the ambitions of Archon Eros were unmatched. The Equestrians, just coming off the heels of defeating the Changelings, were more than ready to meet them, and meet them they had. Twice the Griffonian Empire had tried to take Nova Griffonia, and twice they had failed, with hundreds of thousands of Griffons dead upon the beaches. The Equestrians had counterattacked in turn, taking the most recent Griffonian conquest: The Kingdom of Wingbardy. The resurgent Griffonian Empire was collapsing, everyone knew it at some level. The Archon, always a sore loser, launched a third and final invasion of Nova Griffonia, the results of which Edmin looked on now.
The carrier: Pride of Rottendedam, had been towards the back of the invasion force, providing air support for the troops. That saved it from sinking on the waters of the battlefield, but not from taking a fatal submarine wound to the stern. It had limped back to Turhamn, and as it sunk, Edmin knew it took the last hope of the Empire with it.
Edmin stepped off the small fishing boat that had ferried him back to shore, absently thanking the owner who had been pressed into service. He walked towards the local pub, Edmin intended to drink himself into oblivion. He ordered a spirit, sat down on a stool, and huddled around the radio with the rest of the patrons. Currently, a Skynavian communist was declaring a People’s Republic independent of the Grovers, and a republican revolution was taking place in Cloudbury, capital of the collapsed Griffonian Republic. They weren’t the only ones either, and Edmin knew that numerous warlords, revolutionaries, and opportunists were declaring themselves free of the rule of Griffenheim.
Edmin had not eaten today, and the alcohol was going straight to his head. He barely noticed when two Griffons dressed in uniforms he did not recognize entered the pub. “We are soldiers of the Vedinian Revolutionary Guard, hand over any Griffonian collaborators for execution.” There was a pause, then everyone looked at Edmin. His story was known around here, and he wasn’t popular. On the bright side though, he was too drunk to feel the noose going around his feathered neck, or to feel the pain that followed.
The Archon was staring out the window of the palace, watching the battle that played out below. The Equestrians had encircled Griffenheim from the south, the revolutionaries from the north. The Archons office was in the Knight’s Tower of the palace, which was the second tallest tower beside the King’s Tower. Taking up the entire top floor and surrounded by a massive panoramic glass window, the office was fit for the Kaiser. Yet it was used by a religious leader. Grover had a small unused study, sometimes the peasants have a point.
Tomorrow would be his fourteenth birthday if he lived that long anyway. Grover the VI, Lord of Griffenheim, Kaiser of Griffonia, and Emperor to all Griffons, held very little power. Archon Eros was his regent, and at the old age of 102 was terrified to let a mere child by his eyes have any real power. It didn’t stop the traitors from blaming Grover all the same, in fact, nowadays, they burned his portrait as much as Eros’s.
The Archon turned around, shaking his head, “Traitors, all of them. I should have made more reeducation camps, and been less lenient on sympathizers. This wasn’t your fault my Emperor, you understand?” Grover absently nodded his head, he had heard the same speech daily for the past three months. He wasn’t sure that killing more ‘sympathizers’ would have solved anything, but he could agree it wasn’t his fault.
“You need to get out of here, our loyalists won't keep the eastern corridor open much longer.” The Archon was probably right, not that Grover liked it though.
“They’ll call me a coward if I flee to the River Federation, and who's to say they won't extradite me?” Grover’s retort had some logic, but he knew the Archon was right, on this at least.
“You should know better than to take traitor opinions to heart, and the Federation is less likely to disembowel you on the spot. It will damage your pride, but you are the last of your line. Who knows, maybe the empire will be restored under one of your children.” The thought was pleasant, if optimistic.
“I’ll take my leave then, will you join us?” Grover asked, already knowing the answer.
“No, my place is here. But I’d rather not be lynched.” The ancient griffon opened a drawer in his gilded desk, withdrawing an archaic revolver. “My father’s pistol, it should get the job done well enough.” The young emperor stared at the revolver for a moment, then at the Archon, without another word, he left the room.
Grover quickly gathered up his small party, they had already been waiting. Three servants carrying various supplies, one carrying a king's ransom in gold, two guardsmen, and Fulso, Grover’s sworn shield. Grover shrugged into his ludicrously expensive armor, quickly loaded his crown and some other personal trinkets into a pack, strapped his expensive but deadly pistol into its holster, and said to Fulso, “Let's be off then.” The group left under cover of darkness, Grover inwardly weeping at leaving what remained of his Empire to the traitors, outwardly his face was carved as stone. The shot he heard from the Knight’s Tower barely brought a wince to him.
Grover was underwhelmed as Fulso informed him that they had passed out of the region of Herzland, which was currently a bloodbath, and into the neutral state of Ost-griffonia. It had been formed from the union of Hellquill and Longsword, two states famed for their lawlessness and knightly orders, and roaming mercenaries. The region had an odd mix of various cultures, and due to its straddling the pony-dominant River Federation, and the current chaos of the Griffonian Empire, lead to it being a neutral ground for settling both political and economic disputes.
Perhaps this reputation as neutral ground should have made Grover feel safer, but he knew forces from every opponent nation were looking for him, half of them planned to kill him on sight. The party was relatively disguised, but a fortune that conservatively worked out to 20 years' wages had been offered as a reward for catching the young Emperor. Well, at least his life wasn’t cheap!
A straight night and morning flying through the war-torn region had tired everyone, especially the servants, and Fulso called to make camp under a canopy of trees below. The guards and servants began to set up tents, and made a cold lunch, for a fire could not be risked. Grover took Fulso aside and asked how long the trip would take. “A week flying nights and sleeping at day should get us to Rijekograd, the capital of the River Federation. I’m thinking we should do our best to present ourselves directly to their congress, if we reveal ourselves to any lesser authority they may turn us over immediately.”
Grover studied the middle-aged Griffon. “Do you think the congress will hand us over?”
“Your Grace, I-I don’t know. We could always break for Zebrica if necessary, but I think our best bet is in the Federation.” Grover had known the amber-colored Griffon for about a year and was able to see the uncertainty in his eyes.
“I guess will see what happens then Fulso, but I think my chances of escaping from the clutches of the enemy are slim at best.” The statement surprised Fulso, who mumbled something about relieving himself and left Grover alone. Grover didn’t exactly know where the pessimism was coming from, but he supposed that it was to be expected when your kingdom is overthrown and most of the world was looking to see you dead.
The canopy their camp was in overlooked a small farm, two pony fillies were playing with a small ball while their parents looked on. Grover had both died years previously, and he had been mostly raised by the Archon after Grover’s aunt Gabriella had been forced into exile. Grover didn’t love the Archon as one might a father, but knowing he was dead shook him. The old man had been a constant in the young Emperor’s life, and now he was dead. As he looked on at the two fillies playing, Grover could not mask his envy, they were peasants, but for the thousandth time, Grover wondered what it was like to be truly loved and cared for.
Two more days of flying brought them to the town of Haarsingen. Fulso was of the opinion that the party should keep flying, but their stores of food were low. “I may as well go with you as well, I am a pair of hands and I would like to see what they say of me on the radio.” Such an idea was immediately dismissed by the entire group, and Grover was left at the camp with Loana, one of the guards.
The camp was pleasantly placed on a small hillside, offering a pretty view of the town below. Not that the town was pretty though, at least to Grover it seemed as if a tornado had gone through it. Probably a remnant of its own civil war. Fulso and the others would be gone for an hour or two, and boredom consumed Grover after 15 minutes. “You have in family back in the Empire, Loana? I know it can’t have been easy to pack up and leave.”
She looked uneasy addressing her Emperor, but shortly afterward started, “My father was killed fighting for yours in the last revolution. My mother had just laid my egg, so I never met him. She died nine years later of the plague and I was raised by my grandparents. My grandfather was some bureaucrat but he died as well from age a few years after. Shortly after, I enlisted, and 11 years later, here I am.” She talked about all of the death pretty easily, but Grover supposed he did the same as well.
“I’m sorry for your losses, your father was a loyal man.”
“My father was a fool, Your Highness.” Grover didn’t know where the hostility came from, and he was suddenly uneasy about being close to the Griffon. Thankfully, she left after a short, awkward, silence.
Such sentiments had been repeated time and time again after the republicans had been defeated in the last revolution. The loyalists had found afterward that their Emperor, Grover’s father, had been as ineffective as he was frail. Almost every scholar’s only praise for the Emperor had been that he had sired a strong and healthy son, of sound mind and relative handsomeness. Not that that son would ever be able to fix the trainwreck of his father’s reign. Eros had tried that and failed.
Loana had disappeared somewhere, and Grover thought he may as well get some sleep, Boreas knew they had a long night of flying ahead.
Their Majesties' Special Operations Unit IV, nicknamed The Trackers, had not had a terribly difficult job catching the trail of the exiled Emperor, and their experimental helicopter would have allowed them to outpace and capture the group easily. This was not their mission, however.
It would have looked positively dreadful for the Princesses if they had let a thirteen-year-old get drawn and quartered, even if he was the leader of an enemy nation that did the same to thousands of its conquered peoples, and probably worse to many more. So a plan was hatched, Grover would be brought back to Canterlot for a fair trial. A capture would endanger too many lives, so extradition from the River Federation was chosen as the preferable method. A team would shadow Grover’s party to ensure his safe arrival, and that was that.
Rainbow Dash had been chosen to lead this team, given her possession of the element of loyalty, she was unlikely to turn Grover over for a bribe, and her exemplary service during the war made Rainbow the best choice.
Not that Rainbow was happy about any of this. Five straight years of war had exhausted any reserves she had, and now she wanted to retire to Ponyville and never touch another gun. Not to mention her task was to protect a murderous brat responsible for the deaths of millions. Well, back to tracking the brat, Rainbow thought.
Her group was hiding half a mile from the canopy where the Emperor was also hiding. This made it very easy to hear the shouting and gunshots that suddenly erupted from the area. Shouting to the rest of her group, Rainbow dashed into the fray.
Grover was getting a bit worried…screw that, very worried. The three servants, Ridis, and the twins Balto and Shosta, had returned some three hours ago with the needed supplies. They’re arrival had woken Grover from his slumber, and he was surprised to learn that neither the other guardsman nor Fulso was with them. Ridis said that they were gathering information on the current situation throughout the fragments of the Empire. Grover accepted this at the time, but he was getting suspicious. Haarsingen was only 20 minutes flight to their camp, and Fulso wouldn’t leave his Emperor for any longer than was necessary. Even stranger was the not exactly subtle prodding by Balto and Loana (who had returned from her brooding), to get back to sleep.
Grover tried and failed to do this, instead, he lay quiet, thinking about the current state of his situation. He was wanted all across the world, for crimes he didn’t really have a hand in, directly at least. Indirectly it wasn’t just his hands covered in blood, but his entire body, which was in turn covered in a mountain of corpses. Now he realized that his insomnia had faded into a dream.
He was falling into a void, and somehow he felt that flapping his wings was useless. Now he walked, although the ground seemed irrelevant. Suddenly, a gaping hole opened in the void. He saw a large battle raging below, with countless Griffons ripping each other to shreds with swords, axes, and arrows. A flash of light broke through a smoking sky, and a crowned Griffon carried a flaming talisman. Then the battle faded, and a city was built on the corpses of the dead. It was grand, and at the top sat another crowned Griffon, who suddenly died.
The talisman vanished into an abyss, and the city crumbled. A weeping voice cried out “It’s a curse and a treasure, an enigma and a reality.” Another Griffon approached the now crumbling city, whispering “Blood and ash shall set you right.” It seemed to Grover that this was true, and the city rebuilt itself with fire and blood. Shortly though, the city collapsed, and Grover was thrown back into his head.
He heard a rustling noise, and slight whispering, “Be careful not to wake him, we need this done smoothly.” Grover could not make out the voice, but it sounded familiar.
Ever so slightly, Grover grabbed his side arm, and though he knew it was probably coming, was still surprised when he was grabbed and pulled from his perch. Not willing to go down without a fight, he randomly fired a shot at his assailants. A gasp escaped one, shouting sounded from another, and Grover was dropped to the ground with a thump. Getting up, he found his voice, “You turned on me quicker than I thought you would, my loyal subjects.”
“You killed her you bastard!” Balto yelled, clutching the body of his sister, who was leaking blood from a shot to the throat.
“Do I need to kill you too, you are a traitor after all!” Normally Grover was levelheaded, but his impulsiveness got the better of him, and he shot Balto point blank.
Grover’s talons quivered as they clutched the weapon, he had just killed two people. A third assailant, presumably Ridis, had scampered off, leaving Grover alone. Something impacted his right flank then, and pain trickled in, slow at first, then mounting to a tidal wave. A moan escaped his lips, which then was exacerbated by the approach of Loana. “Young Kaiser, you’ll be coming with Ridis and I, we have a long way back to Griffenheim. I get payment and you get a rope.”
Grover managed to cough out “Ful-Fu-olsoooo.”
“The servants left him dead in a ditch along with the other guard, who refused to join us.” It was dark, but Grover barely managed to see Loana’s shrug. “Guess that one didn’t wanna get pai–” This proclamation was shortly cut off by another shot, which left Loana as a bag of meat on the ground.
This shocked Grover into motion, and he scrambled backward, trying and failing to ignore the pain in his side, which earned him another gasp. The bad part about being a Griffon is that you can’t really clutch your side after being hit, as your talons will likely make the situation even worse. So, Grover was left with a gaping maw on the thigh of his right hind leg, profusely dripping his royal blood into the ground.
He wasn’t entirely sure what happened after that, as his consciousness started to slip into the inviting darkness. Grover was able to tell that a number of troops (Pegasi? Griffon?) landed. One of them saw him and shouted something about a medic, the prick of a needle struck his other hind leg, and he went completely into bliss.
To Rainbow’s eyes, the young griffon looked sickly pale, despite the feathers that almost universally covered his body. Luckily, Rose Bloom, the unit’s medic, had been able to stabilize him. Although the Empire’s crimes were numerous, and despite his age, the young Emperor probably at least somewhat complicity in them, she could not take pleasure in the pain of a child. Rainbow was definitely in for a reprimand, however, her orders had been very specific in that young Grover was not to be harmed, and if all went to plan, he wouldn’t even have to know the Equestrians were tailing him.
The plan was still relatively the same though, The Trackers would head for the River Federation, book ship, sail to the Changeling lands, and then train to Canterlot. It was too dangerous to head into the bloodbath of Western Griffonia, but the River Federation was on good terms with Equestria, and Thorax, who ruled the Changelings now, was on very good terms with Equestria.
The cacophony of shouts, screams, and sobs coming from the prison camp did little to brighten the mood. The smell alone was so revolting that Sunset just wanted to bolt back to her tent. But that would not do; she had a delegation to meet after all. The location of the meeting was undoubtedly an insult to Sunset, and thereby all of Equestria. But she was under strict orders to do her best to make the Communists see reason, however unlikely that might be.
Since the fall of the Griffonian Empire and the flight of its Emperor a week ago, a lot of things had changed. It was perhaps the most confusing civil war in history, with communists fighting communists, republicans fighting republicans, communists fighting republicans, and everyone fighting the loyalists. The princesses had not wanted to storm the city of Griffenheim, believing that doing so would lead to unnecessary death and destruction. This was firmly against Sunset’s wishes and was even more aggravating due to her being technically heading the invasion, or liberation, according to the censors and propagandists. The communists had no such qualms, enemies of the people were to be dealt with harshly after all, and now the red flag of the People’s Republic of Griffonia hung over the palace’s walls.
Since the declaration of the Republic a week before, the Markists had cemented control over most of the Herzland region, the political and economic capital of the whole Empire. They had also made sure to hunt down any loyalists who had not had the foresight to flee, and indeed hundreds of loyalists had fled to Sunset’s camp over the week begging for a prison sentence, which they saw as preferable to what the communists had in store for them. Such was the purpose of this meeting, to ask for the lives of the prisoners in the communist camp to be spared. Indeed, every single one of those wails was to be silenced by a noose tonight.
A small table had been set up, containing the three communist delegates, and Sunset approached with her two advisors, smiling. Askalash the Red was a wiry, almost frail-looking griffon, though that may have been a side effect of being fresh out of prison. He had been awaiting trial for insurrection and treason but had gotten lucky when the communists emerged victorious, but Sunset had heard certain reports which gave hints to a darker past. His smile was piercing, and though his coloration was brown, his blood-red eyes were enough of an indicator of who he was. Next was Rina Calish, a young griffon revolutionary who had been instrumental in urging Loyalist soldiers to defect. Finally, there was the Equestrian defector, though only 17, Scootaloo’s defection to Stalliongrad after her parents’ division was sacrificed to hold off the Changeling horde had made headlines. For one, the botched operation had cost the lives of some 9,000 soldiers, adding to this was that Scootaloo was the protege of Rainbow Dash, renowned fighter pilot, and Element of Harmony.
Sunset and her party took seats opposite the communists, and after introductions were made, they talked business. Deciding to take a direct approach, Sunset got straight to the point, “Executing prisoners without trial is a war crime, and a violation of the Weter Convention, of which the former Griffonian Empire was a signatory. If you go through with this–”
Rina cut her off with a chuckle, “The PRG is not a signatory, and these ‘prisoners’ are traitors to the revolution. Frankly, I don’t see why you care, they were your enemies as much as ours.”
“It is revolting to the princesses, they stopped caring if a soldier dies on a battlefield, but if one dies after the bullets stop flying, it’s a crisis,” Scootaloo responded, snorting.
“If your government can not take care of the prisoners, we will gladly take them off your hands.” Jumping Rose, Sunset’s chief of staff added in a conciliatory manner.
“Like you took care of the Stalliongrad prisoners? We heard that the plague took out half that prison camp’s population. It is better this way, a quick clean death for the lot of them.” Sunset wondered how Asklash managed to convey his intention to murder thousands in such a sincere manner.
Running out of patience, Sunset made her intentions clear, “If you attempt to precede in this crime, the Equestrian forces in that camp over there,” Sunset pointed with her hoof, “we will have no choice but to take military action.”
“Well,” Asklash said, sharing a look with his comrades, “We don’t think you will.” Indeed Sunset wouldn’t, for the princesses would not authorize such an attack, against her protests. Shaking her head, Sunset and her advisors left the camp.
The next day, 15,000 loyalist prisoners were slaughtered, many of them just conscripts. Three days later, Cloudbury, capital of the newly formed Griffonian Republic, also fell at the hands of the communists. By the end of the week, the majority of the former Empire’s territories, except a few holdouts or those under Equestrian occupation, had fallen to the Communists.
In the deepest part of the north, in a lonely hall, a Griffon collapsed to the ground, gasping. Torygg’s attacker allowed him no rest, however. Once again he was picked up with magic and tossed across the room, as one might a doll. Then his attacker spoke, “You had a thousand years to prepare, I was expecting better, headmaster.” How she managed to make his title a sneer was beyond him, but, ignoring the pain in his knees, he got to his feet.
“You may have beat us, but you won't find that relic,” Torygg spoke, staring the necromare down.
Rosa simply chuckled and threw him once again, “I’ll wring it out of you eventually, thief. It’s not yours, to begin with. Even without it, my armies will sweep across Griffonia, Equus, and the rest of the world. Since your order has been defeated, I think will have an easy time of it.”
Torygg screamed as the unicorn tore his brain to pieces, looking for the relic’s location. Then collapsed, dead, to the ground. “I guess you didn’t know where it was, well, I’ll get it back eventually.” Rosa Maledicta screamed her displeasure into the darkness and everypony in the Tarpian Rock cowered in fear.
Distantly, a courier flapped his wings. It was difficult flying, the wind was strong and he was carrying a sealed box. His purpose was clear though; get the relic to its bearer.
