“Me?” Doug asks, lips pursing in a slight frown. It’s rare that ponies come to him for help with regards to his new position of Prince Consort. He assumes the requests, if they do exist, get routed through Applejack or Celestia. If anypony comes to him directly it has to do with things he would have done before he got the title. Though even those requests are few and far between.

He warily regards the predator in front of him, even if hippogriffs primarily consume fish instead of ponies. The sharp talons are certainly capable of rending through his armor, a soft-shelled crab that screams. Yet curiosity wins out; he stands straight and meets the piercing eyes. “What sort of assistance?”

Sky Beak takes a deep breath, steeling himself. His words are quiet, conspiratorial, as if expecting a shadow to flicker on the other side of the open door. “You must plead our case before Princess Celestia.” His jaw sets, a furious snort escaping his upper beak. “She refuses to listen to us! But if she hears of the injustice, the suffering we endure? That is, or will be, inflicted on anycreature in the Storm King’s way? She would surely come to our aid! And that of everycreature!”

Doug’s nostrils scrunch up. That sounds… well, he wants to defend his mare, to say she doesn’t sound like that. It doesn’t paint Celestia in a good light, not at all. But based on his admittedly spotty knowledge of the alicorn’s history? From watching Rarity plummet to her imminent doom to allowing the Abyssinian slave crisis to continue until everycreature demanded action, Celestia has consistently let ponies, and others, suffer the consequences of their actions. Sometimes she tweaks things, such as sending Twilight Sparkle to Ponyville. Everypony, especially Princess Luna, is grateful for that result. But the exception certainly seems to prove the rule.

“I’m listening,” Doug says diplomatically, careful not to commit to anything just yet. He has some idea of the geopolitical landscape in the southern hemisphere, mostly from listening to Twilight when she joined him at the helm on the tedious journey here. But it’s as incomplete as his knowledge of Equestrian history. “What sort of case?”

The ear-splitting screech of delight is quickly stifled, much to Sky Beak’s chagrin. “Sorry, sorry. I just thought you might turn us down out of hoof like-”

He cuts himself off, clearing his throat with a deep rumble. “Again, I don’t mean to disparage the Caretaker of the Sun, and what she does for all of us. It’s just that… she could do so much more!” Amber eyes flick to the imposing black warship behind him, contempt plain in his vehement glare. “How much do you know about the Storm King’s reign of terror?”

Doug thinks back to the map of Equus in the captains’ cabin. Equestria takes up the northern third of the continent, from the equator to the snow-topped and barren mountains that make up the Crystal Empire and Yakyakistan. The rest of the continent stretches almost to the icy south pole, tapering only slightly. A vast sea connects the Luna Ocean to the west and the Celestial Sea to the east, with the Storm King’s realm in the southwest of that iceberg filled expanse.

Massive storms frequent the island, leaving the majority of the Storm Realm inhospitable. Yet the dormant volcanoes are rich in ores, especially a black metal from which the yeti-like Storm Creatures build their castles and airships. Only the minotaurs come close to their manufacturing and metallurgic expertise. It is too cold to support much vegetation, meaning their main exports are machines, weapons, and soldiers. And, very often, paying to not have said machines crewed by said soldiers point said weapons at you.

“Some,” Doug admits, shifting from one foot to the other. “Isolationist, until they could reliably traverse the ocean to reach the mainland about twenty years ago. Led by Raikou, the Storm King, they secured a foothold, or hoofhold, in the Slug Troll Swamp. They expanded along the southern coast, conquering perhaps a dozen or more nations, until the Council of Creatures brought them in as enforcers. By some accounts their expansion would have continued had they not been employed as such, embroiling the world in war as they enveloped one country or city state after another.”

“True as far as it goes,” Sky Beak says through a gritted beak, “but you speak nothing of the atrocities he has committed. The plundering of the cities, the looting and ransacking of anything he can use to further his conquests. The destruction of any who might stand in his way.” He scowls as he releases a heated snort. “You mentioned the Slug Troll Swamp. Have you heard of Slug Trolls?”

Doug shakes his head.

“And why would you?” Sky Beak waves a talon, indicating a vast stretch of space. “They lived in the appropriately named Slug Troll Swamp. Not quite up to the ‘creature’ designator of intelligence; closer to a manticore. As fast a breeder as pigs, and resilient. I won't claim they had a culture, or were unified in any way besides not attacking each other. But when the Storm King’s foresters came to fuel their furnaces, they resisted. As any creature or animal should. They posed no threat to his rule, but a mere thorn in his side. So he sent his shock troops and eradicated them, to the last.”

Doug nods, grimly. A terrible choice. The contrarian in him has a hard time faulting the Storm King’s decision; how many humans have wiped out predators near them? Though they never had the ability to bargain with them, assuming you could bargain with the trolls.

“And what do you know of hippogriffs?” Sky Beak asks after a palatable pause.

“Less,” Doug says. “My sources are admittedly biased, as the books I've read paint the hippogriffs as little more than marauders and pirates looking to seize goods from honest merchants and cargo haulers traveling between the Storm Realm and the southern coast.”

Sky Beak scowls, wicked talons flexing, enough to get Doug to briefly tense up again.

“If General Seaspray heard how the Royal Navy has been vilified,” he says with a morose shake of his head. “Our sailors were liberating the goods and peoples he captured while the Council turned a blind eye. But the Storm King painted us with the same brush that he used on the slug trolls. The other countries feared his retribution, of being next on his list. And so, when Queen Novo refused to bow her head to his command, he sent his forces against Mount Aris.”

“And the hippogriffs haven’t been seen or heard from since,” Doug states. Except for the obvious exception standing in front of him.

Sky Beak nods grimly. “King Aponis, husband of Queen Novo, gave his life during the battle for Hippogriffia so that we might escape. And Princess Celestia desecrates his sacrifice by ignoring our plea for help!”

“Our?” Doug asks, intrigued. “Your people escaped, and survived?”

“We retreated into the ocean.” Sky Beak raises a wing, spreading the feathers around the joint. Concealed among them is a sliver of pink. “Using this. A shard of the Seasky Pearl. His forces could not follow, and we have lived our lives in fear of his inevitable return. For that is what he seeked, and seeks, an artifact that would allow him and his soldiers to conquer the sea and everything that resides within.”

Doug frowns, crossing his arms. “How could the Council of Creatures allow this?

“Because the Storm King is no fool,” Sky Beak cautions. The blue wing folds back against the hippogriff, concealing the shard. “He waited until the hippogriff seat on the council rotated to the Abyssinians. Just as he waited for the Abyssinians to rotate out before their ‘atrocities’ could be addressed by his pillaging army. He brought forth unsound allegations and unsubstantiated claims against us. And through coercion and threats he convinced enough of the members to betray us to his ambitions. For he cares nothing for the treasures he steals or the people whose lives he destroys. He cares only for himself, to become the single most powerful being in existence.”

I might have him beat there, Doug wryly thinks to himself. Sky Beak raises an eyebrow at Doug’s slight smirk. Even if it was merely temporary. But if that’s the length he needs to go to be more powerful than Celestia?

Doug clears his throat. “So you wish for more than just retribution and revenge? Or to warn and protect others from a similar fate? What would you wish to happen?”

“You think reclaiming Hippogriffia, the Harmonizing Heights, our flight would be enough? The world will only be safe when the storm is stopped for good.” Sky Beak nods firmly. “Anything less will only delay his ambitions. They will not slake, nor will he be satisfied with anything less. And it is only once he has been dealt with that my people will be able to return and rebuild.”

Doug takes a deep breath. “Look,” he says straightforwardly, his voice dropping as he pulls close to the hippogriff. “I agree with you. That this situation is terrible and needs fixing. But it sounds to me like the problem runs deeper than just the Storm King’s ambition. It would be great if we could all live in peace and harmony. But taking an open stance against him could invite the very war that happened to you. And if the Council is as corrupt as you claim? And the other countries smelling blood in the water?”

Sky Beak stiffens. “Then you are no better than Celestia,” he spits out. “Unwilling to do what is right.”

The hippogriff digs his talons into the roof as he strides to the door, leaving divots in his wake. He does not bother to turn back as he disappears inside.

Doug sighs, hand rubbing at his temple. “Not true,” he says to nobody. “I want to do what is right for everycreature.”

For he doesn’t know how much of the hippogriff’s statements are fact or propaganda. The published history, the one he and Twilight read, is written from the side of the winner. In this case the Storm King, an admittedly biased source. But the side of the loser can contain just as much prejudice. And yet it doesn’t seem right to have a population - an entire species, with their unique culture and traits - driven away for the sake of greed and ambition.

Doug goes down three flights of stairs before realizing that he has no idea where he is actually supposed to be going. So he keeps going down until he reaches the expansive atrium. A massive fountain dominates the center, two waterfalls spilling from the horn of an alicorn and the maw of dragon. They pool in four bowls carried on the backs of a yak, griffon, minotaur, and storm creature, each in an impressive pose. Except for the yak, who is just standing there, oblivious to the load, while the others make some semblance of straining. The last tier contains every other known creature - except, for probably obvious reasons, a human. He doesn’t recognize one, squatting down to peer at the one-eyed, goat horned biped.

“Excuse me,” a pony dressed in light cloth armor says as she walks up to Doug. It seems like a much better choice than gold in the blistering climate. She smiles as he glances at her. “Looking for something?”

“Um, a bit lost,” Doug admits. Her smile widens as he turns and points at the creature. “What is that?”

“The Cyclops’ leader, Arimaspi.” The guard seems to delight in being able to answer his question. “Though after their… spat with the griffons years ago they went into seclusion, much like the hippogriffs. Fancy seeing one of them after all these years?”

“Yeah, fancy that,” Doug says, getting up. “You know where everyone else went?”

“Yup! Follow me.”

The guard leads Doug back to the staircase, up one flight and down a hallway. They arrive in a large auditorium. Nearly a hundred seats of various sizes and shapes line the tiered amphitheater. The roof tiles are arranged to project the sound from the stage while deadening that from the neighboring seats. Five doors ring the top section, two at the middle, and two at the bottom by the stage.

Dotted among the seats are the various delegates, some intermingling with the others. Ponies dressed in waiter outfits bring in trays loaded with items of every color, shape, and texture, a breakfast buffet awaiting as soon as you order. The guard bids Doug a farewell with a short nod as he enters, returning to her post.

Doug walks down to the bottom, the din of the Equestrians growing from barely understandable murmurs to a noisy roar, even without Pinkie Pie. Mostly it comes from the cheers and growls as Applejack and Rainbow Dash take turns trying to toss onion rings around Twilight’s horn. The odd part is the floor is completely spotless, but only around the ponies, even when a piece impacts the ground. Even the air smells fresher, not even a hint of the pungent spices the other creatures are consuming.

A waiterpony brings him a menu. The first two pages are all vegetarian treats he might find in a high-class Canterlot cafe. The next contains drinks, and the last lists of meats - including, to his sorrow, pony, and not the bean curd variety - and then gemstones. He orders a mix of fruit filled crepes, the waiter pausing before exiting the clean circle.

He sits next to the surly alicorn, a fond rubbing of her mane and neck failing to break her cantankerous mood. “Need me to get them to stop?” He catches an onion ring as it misses the mark completely. It tastes remarkably good, lots of oil. He swipes the next one out of the air before it smacks her in the face.

“Hey!” Rainbow Dash shouts. “That one was going in!”

“No,” Twilight responds dourly, huffing. “It’s their way of ‘putting me in chains’, like a horn ring would stop me.”

“Unless it was anti-magic?” Doug asks.

“Yup. But that’s why Celestia has her detection spell going. If you smell rotten eggs, watch out.”

She smirks slightly, and even the tiny break in her glum mood brighten’s Doug’s smile. It’s a good thing Pinkie Pie is off somewhere else, she would have hated the somberness everypony harbors behind silly games and cheer.

It takes him a moment to realize why, since they haven’t heard of the Hippogriff’s plight. And that is when a tall Saddle Arabian mare steps forward, her voice projecting.

“Queen Chrysalis of the Changelings, please come to the stage.”

Next Chapter: Ch. 17 - Survival Instincts, Part Three Estimated time remaining: 29 Hours, 35 Minutes