Decided to do an omake. probably have 1 or 2 more I want to do.
@Questor
To be the emperor
In the past, Garrick had thought he truly knew what it meant to be emperor.
He thought he had known when he had married his wife, to make a decision that would be best for himself and for the empire. But, looking back, that line of thought was naive.
He thought he had known when he had seen his son, the day he had been born... to create a nation that he would be proud of. But, that was the absolute minimum anyone would expect of him.
He had thought he had known when he had gone to war, to learn to view himself as above his people for the sake of his people. Again, a naive view, for was that not the basis of emperorship?
And he had thought he had known on that snow covered battlefield, fighting against the bitter chill, against a force no gryphon should have to face... To watch his army die by the thousands and realize he could do little aside from lead, the weight of every dead soldier compounding on his soul.
But that was simply the reality of being a commander. Despite how much he did not see himself as any different from any other gryphon, the fact was he was was in charge, and thus his life was more important than those on the front line. Was his decision the correct one? What if he had retreated? What if his gamble had not paid off? They were questions that haunted him and would continue to do so.
But, it was here, in front of a small farmhouse at the edge of his nation, where he truly felt the weight of what it meant to be emperor.
"My liege!"
Waiting for him there were a small detachment of soldiers, dressed in full armor and carrying two large packs under their wings at their sides.
"At ease." He raised a claw. "I assume the messenger told you I was coming...? You have permission to speak freely."
Both visibly relaxed their postures, with one of the two nodding. "Indeed. Although, we weren't expecting to see you here, your highness."
"I hadn't expected myself to be here either, really..." Garrick couldn't help but let out a small sigh. "I was actually on my way to meet with the Yaks personally after some talks with my diplomat, but the third member of your group flew by my guard and he explained the situation, after we prodded him a bit. My schedule may be busy, but I can at least spare a few minutes for this."
"Very well, your highness... You will be needing these then." The guard on the left dipped his beak into his satchel and pulled out a small brown pouch, carefully placing it into his open claw. "She refused to speak with us after we told her the news... we were unable to return them."
Without a word, he carefully undid the knot and peared inside, finding only two small objects buried within. One, a piece of parchment with letters hastily scrawled along it. The other, another piece of parchment, smaller than the first, except this one scribled upon in various colors, forming a picture.
On it, in large, yellow letters, 'Mama and Papa' had been written.
"... I see." He turned his head behind him where his guard stood, ever rigid. "You four, remain here. You, with me."
The one he had picked out stepped in line behind him as he made his way to the front of the humble abode, preparing himself for what he would have to face inside.
However, even before he arrived at the front door, he could hear it. A sound that, even with his heart hardened, tore away at it.
A woman, crying.
For a moment, just before his claw was about to strike the claw door, he thought perhaps it was best for someone else to take care of this. It wasn't his job, after all... He was just interfering. That, and he really did have more important things to do, in the grand scheme of things...
But then he proceeded to knock, throwing those thought out of his mind.
The crying halted for a moment, but only for a moment, before continuing.
So, he knocked once more.
"Go away!" The voice on the other side sobbed out. "I don't want anything to do with you!"
Undeterred, Garrick knocked a third time, "Miss, if you could please open the door for one moment-"
If it were the him of several years ago, then the sudden swing of the door straight toward his face would have sent him careening straight toward the floor.
But, he was no longer that gryphon.
Instead, reflexes honed with the help of his wife and on the battlefield took hold, forcing him to step back, the door missing his beak by mere fractions.
"I said, go awa-" The gryphon on the other side of the doorway froze. Her eyes raw and red, feathers unkempt, features gaunt from lack of eating and sleeping... it was a look that was surprisingly common among his people these days."-ay... oh. Y-Your highness. I-I wasn't expecting you- I mean, I apologize for my outburst, I didn't mean-"
"No, no, it's fine." He quickly cut her off. "You aren't in any trouble. May I come in?"
The gryphon's beak was still open in shock, taking a moment or two to process what he had said before jerkily taking a step back and leaving the doorway empty. "P-please, come in."
Making a brief motion to his guard, he followed behind the woman, who took the two of them to a small table near the back of the house. The room itself was rather bare, aside from a selection of pillows which seemed rather haphazardly strewn about, a couple of pieces of paper in one corner, and a smear of color on one of the walls, a rag discarded below it.
The lady of the house quickly went to work, arranging the pillows by the table in a neat orderly fashion and leaving for another room, returning after a few minutes with a steaming pot and two cups in her grasp.
"I a-apologize for the mess." She stated, placing both cups in front of them and pouring the drink from the container for the two of them. "Gloria has taken to drawing on everything she can get her claws on... and making a mess in the process..."
A small smile seemed to worm its way on her face before disappearing, her eyes beginning to water.
Garrick took a small sip from the cup she had given him, noting the taste. It was a simple tea, with barely any flavor, but even this sort of tea was a decent enough luxury especially after the war.
He noted that this had probably been stashed away in case of a special occasion, or more likely, in case she needed to sell it.
Minutes passed with neither party speaking. The silence only breaking by the occasional shift in posture or to drink some tea, before being broken truly by a whisper.
"... why..."
It was a simple word, but one that held more than enough meaning for all occupants in the room.
Garrick, rather than responding, merely remained silent.
"Why did he have to die...?"
Inwardly, Garrick could only sigh.
Fredric Ashwing. A farmer who had left behind his old life to join his army after the unification war, heading the call for more recruits to make up for the losses suffered. He held no special rank nor was he anyone of particular importance, being one amongst many polearm users in his army.
One of many who gave his life in service for his country.
And in doing so, left his wife and daughter behind.
The emperor set down his glass.
"There is nothing I can say that will ease the pain," He began, "I could tell you he fought bravely for his country, and that you should be proud of his sacrifice. I could tell you that your family has no reason to worry, as you, along with every other gryphon who had family in the army, will be taken care of. I could tell you that in his final moments, I can for certain say he was thinking of you. And I can say that his body will be given the proper burial rites... But none of that is what you want to hear, is it?"
No, he knew well enough the feeling of the loss of a loved one. That hollow feeling, the ache where a part of your very essence felt like it had been ripped out... In his youth, he had turned that feeling into rage, into direction. He had turned that feeling outward, creating a goal, to avenge the death of his parents... But the gryphon before him was not like that revenge driven gryphon from what felt like ages ago.
Rather, she turned it inwards. He could see it... she wanted to blame someone, anyone, like he had, to blame that twisted creature that had caused so much misery, to blame him, for forcing them to fight back, to blame the instructors, for not teaching her husband well enough... But, rather than do that, she blamed herself, tearing her heart to pieces in hopes the grief would go away.
Those words would do nothing to assuage her of her hatred for herself, no, rather, they would just spiral her further into depression.
Even with what he had already said, her figure had become even more hunched over, and the tears that had dried up earlier already had returned, littering her table with drops of water.
"It's not your fault." He finally told her.
She turned up to look at him, eyes widening in surprise, before her head lowered once more, even lower than it was before. "But it is my fault... It's all my fault... I said it would be a g-good idea... and now he- he's... gone..."
Garrick shook his head. "No, it is not. If anything, the fault is mine. Many lost their lives in that battle, and sometimes, I can't help but wonder if, maybe if I hadn't sent out that scouting expedition, or just decided to fallback instead, we wouldn't have taken as many losses... So I ask of you, if you wish to blame anyone, blame me."
"... N-no, I can't blame you... You were just doing what was best for all of us. I can't, I won't...."
"... Then allow me to tell you a story. Is that alright with you?" A look of confusion took to her face before she slowly nodded, "I am sure you know, I used to be a merchant, traveling the hidden roads, selling wares... on occasion, I'd make camp with a fellow trader, and sometimes on those nights, we'd exchange tales.
There was one told to me a few weeks before I became king, by a Feathersian trader. Before the era of discord, in the age of the old gryphon emperors, there was a tradition of allowing anyone to come into the throne room and debate the emperor. Among them, there was one known for heckling the emperor for every policy he enacted, whether it benefited him or not.
One day, the commoner said 'I believe I could rule better than you ever could,' sparking an idea within the emperor. He allowed the commoner to sit on his throne for as long as he liked and rule over his lands until he felt he should abdicate the throne. Seeing a chance at the life of luxury the emperor lived, the commoner seized the chance with both claws.
However, what the emperor did not tell him was that he had hung a sword, said to be more akin to a slab or raw iron bigger and larger than any had ever seen than a sword, above the throne, kept there by a thin piece of twine. The commoner, seeing this, demanded an explanation, but was told that, as he was not the emperor, he could not possibly know the weight of ruling, and thus that was put in place to remind him. At any time, should anyone find him not suited to ruling, they could simply cut the thread and be done with him.
Initially, the commoner simply decided to ignore the sword dangling above his head, but, as time wore on, he grew more and more paranoid, until, after not even a day had passed, he ran out of the throne room, never to heckle the emperor again. The sword, however, was kept in place, dangling above the emperor, as a reminder to his people. He was said to have died of old age."
Finishing his tale, he took another drink from his tea, emptying it completely. "A tale without a name, and a strange one at that, is it not? THe trader who told it to me had told me it was a metaphor for the danger that lurked around every corner when one rules, but as time went on, I found that explanation lacking... Tell me, what do you believe the sword to be?"
The widow, not quite sure what to make of the question, replied, "I... I don't know..."
"The people." He paused, giving her some time to process his answer. "To be the emperor is to represent the people, the nation as a whole. To fight when they wish to fight. To remain joyful when they are. To accept their hopes, dreams, desperations, fears, and judgements, and to let it hang over your head as an imposing mountain that will crush you at the slightest misstep.
And so, as your emperor, while you may grieve, I ask, no, I beg of you, allow me to carry your grief for you. For if I am not willing to hear the cries of all those who have lost someone, who am I to call myself emperor?" With that, He placed the pouch he had received earlier on the table, taking both items out and passing them over. "In this case, my wing is open in case you desire support."
She took a shaky claw and pulled both pieces of paper over to her, carefully looking them over. Gingerly, she took both pieces and placed them against her chest, a smile now on her face.
"Fredric, y-you stupid, dumb, i-idiot... Yes, I'll watch take care of your mushrooms for you...."
They were words spoken between a giggle and a cry, before fulling devolving into sobbing again.
Garrick maneuvered around the table, letting her fall against his side and under his wing. "It'll be okay... I promise. So for now, cry as much as you would like."
Perhaps he would be a little late for his meeting with the yaks, perhaps word of this would spread and he'd find even more widows turning up at the palace, and perhaps his wife would hear of this later and demand more details...
But, he was the emperor, and he would bare all of it.
Its a bit sloppily done, but eh, at least I finished it.
