Gladium was sat on the corner of his bed with a claw to his lower beak. As the marshal to Duke Dux, his name along with his bed were levitated to fit his title. His own room—exotic furnishings, his own shield and sword with sets of armor of all kinds and embellished with the family's coat of arms, bags of coins hidden away in a clever pocket he tore into his bed, numbering to a grand total of 50 shillings; all gifts from the Duke. It was too lavished for a marshal; another guard to the keep. Lavishing it may have been, but then it came to him:'Lavishing'. Lavishing but no fame to justify it, and no family to carry it. But what fame is there? What family is there? There is none to be had in a country based on peace and tolerance. And to begin a family was beyond manageable. Unfitting for a griffin, but strangely, it sat well with him.
The offer Stultas made him was still fresh in his mind. An insidious request, but it carries its weight in gold. The number ran rampant in his mind, “500!” he said, "500." it was a delectable number and it sugared his tongue, but at a price of two lives: Dulce and Mortem. It was a ghastly thing to commit, but the number, it mined at his being and infested what he thought was loyalty. And when the deed is to be done, what then? How does one execute the act, even!? To treat them like they were bandits, or animals, and end them with a sword in their gullet? The mere thought of it was… was… vulgar; to end life so young, utter vulgar.
A faintness passed over him, and the air fell constipated. The nerve in his claw began to collapse into a violent shiver. That sugar he once tasted, now savored in iron. “What the hay am I doing?”
=
“Pax, could you get me more water.” Pax left her father’s bed side to the pitcher of water that rested on his nightstand. She passed the filled cup to Stultus who stretched over his father’s bedside and handed him the cup. “Thank you.” he said, stifling a cough.
“And for the dutchie?” Stultas continued with an eager gaze.
“That will go to you, Stultus. As the eldest you've gained the honor to it’s title. But I can’t help but to feel that you don’t deserve it.” Dux said, sipping from his cup.
“What?! How could you not entrust me with your title, I am the hair!” Stultus protested.
“Oh, calm yourself boy, I was merely jesting. You are only hair to my title and this county, nothing more. If I find you meddling in your siblings affairs when I am gone, I’ll haunt you from my grave.” he said with a smirk then waving him off.
“Father, you’re not leaving us, you’re slightly ill, that is all.” Pax said with a confidence unfamiliar to her. "Maybe there is a cure for this illness. You'll be well if we find it!"
“Pax, please. I understand your concern. But you don't understand. I feel it. My bones are aching, and I'm begging to lose what little strength I posses.” he patted his pillow as if content with his destiny. “But I've lived fully and had my time in this world, you both understand, yes?”
Pax with watery eyes, shot glances at her father and brother. Stultus stood unmoved by what had been said, and shifted himself away from Pax.
“No…” said Pax, with an rattled voice, “You can’t…”
“Pax, please.”
The chamber door opened and a curious beak surfaced from the crack of the door. In a cheery whistle, it announced its presence. The door flung open and Dulce and Mortem threw themselves into the room, and in a tumble of wings and legs made for their father’s side. “To the Duke of Hoovington, we welcome you!” they said simultaneously and as if they were the lead jesters in Solstice Fair.
“Why aren't you two in bed?” Dux asked softly.
“Well, we didn’t want to go to bed.” said Dulce with both claws behind her back.
“Yeah father,” added Mortem, “we weren't tired. BUT… look what Gladium gave us!” The two produced two wooden swords from their backs. Cheap flimsy things, not worthy for training, a childs toy.
“Why would Gladium give you these?”
“Just watch!” they said.
Dulce and Mortem took up their wooden swords, and began dueling. They called the rooms attention, for reinsurance, and continued in a random flail of exaggerated slashes and prodding. They jumped to their father’s bed and continued their exchange, dodging and parrying each others blows. Dux began cheering, and Pax watched in total amusement. Dulce threw forward her sword to where her brother had already parryd her last blow. Dulce retracted a leg and recomposed, but Mortem jumped forward and began a frenzy of hacks all landing nicely on Dulce’s raised sword. Dulce flinched her sword and flung her brother's sword, then with a single thrust, struck Mortem between the pit of his arm, and in a theatrical spin and final gasp, fell from the bed.
Dux and Pax began applauding while Stultas with a claw over his eyes to hide his annoyance. The two bowed for their audience of three. “Impressive!” Dux said, “Now, the only thing I wonder if that performance of yours was legitimate. It seemed a little too organized!”
Mortem with a raised brow, asked “What does leg… liggnemt, mean?”
“But it was real!” protested Dulce
“I know,” laughed Dux, “I was merely jesting. But that is enough, Luna’s moon is above us! Off to bed the four of you. Pax and Stultus, could you take them off to their chambers; and you two do the same. Live well and long!”
Pax took the two griffins under her wing and lead them out. “But we’re not tired” they repeated.
All but Stultas left the chamber. He stood silently by his father’s side. And Dux saw something that struck him, he wasn’t sure what it was, but those eyes did not belong to his son. “Stultas, are you alright? You haven't gone and catch this illness of mine?” There was a storm in his eyes and it brewed something dangerous. A maelstrom of fire, eyes that only belonged to the insane.
“No. I’m okay.”
Stultas left his father’s chamber and met with Pax.
=
“But we’re not tired.” complained Mortem, “Can we do something fun, like hide ‘n seek , or maybe we can take a swim in the river!” Pax continued walking with the two troublesome griffins under her wing. She said nothing and by the strength of her left wing, pushed them forward.
“Stultas, can you take Mortem to his chambers, I’ll take care of Dulce.”
Stultas took Mortem by the neck and robbed him from Pax’s wing. The little griffin resisted his brothers grasp, but it only tightened. Stultas lifted him from the floor and flew to his chamber. He heard Pax cry out to him but ignored it. “Stultas!” the little griffin gasped, “you’re hurting me!” Stultas arrived to the chamber door and dropped Mortem to the floor. In a fit for air, he ran to his chamber door, and cursed his brother before slamming it.
=
Dulce was tucked in her bed, and everything seemed to be in order and at peace.The single thing that truly bugged Pax, was the handle Stultas had on Mortem. She has never seen that sort of aggression from another, let alone Stultas.
Pax left Dulce to herself and leaned to the wall outside her sister’s chamber door; the chamber door just cracked open by a talons length.
It was frightening, she admitted to herself, but to see Stultas lash out, was infuriating to let happen. It wasn’t as if siblings never fought over one another, it was common, especially the family Pax was born into. Stultas and her had their trades in harsh slurs and meaningless competition, but never… never gone as far as he had that night. And for no cause, he simply did.