’Forty seven… And the fuck is a petunia?’ Handy was not the best at botany. He twitched, he heard a lot of flapping wings in the distance. ’Pleeeaaassse let that be griffons…’ He begged as he listened on, only one pair of wings was big enough to be taken as a griffon, the rest were noticeably smaller, he sighed. ’Great… Ponies…’  He listened to more of the prince’s complaints, barely ever getting a word in edgewise, not that he’d have anything civil to say to the good prince. ’Perhaps he’s only being kept around until the Princesses can marry him off for a political gain, would explain why they bother to keep him around if he’s always like this. Can’t imagine any prospective heiress would ever be tempted to-‘