//------------------------------//
// Humble beginnings  
// Story: The Last Medallion 
// by Thwaitesy 
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The old heavy book slammed down onto the wooden study desk with a bang that echoed through the old library, like a thunderclap from an angry storm unleashed after years of imprisonment suddenly venting its frustration.  A short gust blew the years-old layers of dust from the worn cover. Hazel eyes observed the intricacies that still emblazoned it. A tentative claw reached forward and tenderly opened the book. It was a surprisingly smooth motion, but then again, things were made to endure in Griffonia, historical books especially.

Noah Bluecrest, a griffon with the head, wings, and front feet of a blue jay, and the hind legs and tail of a tabby cat, carefully turned page after page in his careful but desperate search through its contents. He passed so many amazing moments: The building of the griffon royal palace and the crowning of the first king; the first war with the pony diarchy across the sea; the founding of the Kingdom of Griffonstone… so many other momentous moments in griffon history all recorded here for all time.

Finally he came to what he was looking for, and the crest on top of his head went up considerable bit as he looked on the beginning page of the list of the Noble houses of Griffonia that had come and gone. He began reading the names, names he learned from school, all names that would never be forgotten. 
After a half hour, he came to the name he was hoping with all his soul to find: Bluecrest. His family. He was right – they were once a noble griffon house. He felt the tears build up in his eyes as he looked upon the family crest for the first time in his life. A griffon looking almost exactly like him, but more muscular, crest proudly upright, holding a sword skyward in one claw and a shield in the other, roaring defiantly. The griffon on the heraldry was silver, and the backing was a brilliant blue, just the same as the midday sky. The surrounding trim was also silver in color and was incredibly intricate with interwoven streams forming the outlying shape of a pair of outstretched wings.

He looked at the print below the crest and saw the number of the page the details of his family was on and with an excitement that could not be matched, he turned the page, almost forgetting the book’s age. His smile left his beak and his crest fell as he saw the pages that should have contained his entire family history were gone. He went back a few, making sure he somehow hadn't missed them despite keeping track of the page numbers. But no, the pages were gone, apparently torn out. But why?

Standing up, he stretched his hind legs and made his way to the front desk to ask about this perversion of history. To tear pages from such an important tome was, to be honest, Noah had no words for it.
He reached the front desk and rang the small bell. It was not long before Mrs Gaia Riverquills, an elderly griffin approached him. She had an eagle-like front body while her hind quarters was that of a striped tiger. Maybe once in her youth she must have been a real looker; no doubt had her pick of the cocks. But now her feathers were faded and so was her fur.

“Can I help you, young one?” she asked in hushed tones.

Noah cleared his throat. “Um, yes ma'am. I think someone has vandalized the book I've been using for my research.”

Her eyes went wide at the words. Noah could see anger in those eyes, and he was not surprised. As far as he could tell, she had been tending this library for as long as she had been alive, or at least a young adult. When she next spoke it was with a determination that could not be denied. “Show me!” That was all she needed to say, and Noah lead her to his table.

They arrived at the table and he showed her the missing pages. At first she was livid; that book was a valuable record of history. She then took note of the numbers of the pages that were remaining. Her fury subsided as she looked at the young griff next to her. “I'm sorry, dear, but this isn't vandalism. This was done a long time ago and quite deliberately.”

Noah’s crest shot up in shock at the revelation. Someone had purposefully torn out his family history! The concept was mortifying.

“If you don't mind, dearie,” Mrs Riverquills asked sweetly, “why are you trying to learn about this particular family?”

“Oh it's… um… for a report I'm working on. I just need to found out who they were and what happened.”

She cocked a quizzical brow as if she knew she wasn't getting the whole story, but it was enough for her. “Well, dearie.” she said as she made her way to another book case. “if you want to learn about them, then I think this one would be much more suitable.” She plucked a book from the self and handed it to him with a smile before heading back to her desk.

Noah took a look at the title on the cover and his crest fell again. ‘Disgraced Houses of Griffonia: the New Edition’. Once again he sat at his table and opened the new book he had been given, and was greeted by a glossary of fallen and apparently disgraced houses. Fortunately it was in alphabetical order and it didn't take him nearly as long to find his family name. Though a part of him didn't want to know why his family was listed in this book, he turned to the page and quickly snapped his eyes shut, as though somehow hoping that if he cautiously peeked at the pagea it might not be as bad as he was dreading.

So he began to slowly open one eye. Then upon seeing what was written, opened the other quickly, blinking away the slight blurriness. To sum up what was written, the Bluecrest family was a firm supporter of the previous King, Troldus Ironclaw. When the current King, Argent Glimfeather, took power, they opposed and, as a result, lost their holdings. Reading this, Noah was left with more questions than answers. Chief among them was how could a simple opposition lose them everything they had? Deciding he had learned all that he could, he realized there was one other place he might be able to get the answers to his new question. As he made his way out of the library he suddenly skidded to a halt as he realized he hadn't put the books back. Every book must be returned to their proper place. Mrs. Riverquills was very particular about that rule and enforced it fervently. Noah had actually seen her make a grown griff cry with her admonishments about leaving a book out. He did not wish to have the same thing happen to him. No sir, he did not.

The small new book was easy to replace, but the big old one? Noah found it amazing he could actually lift the damned thing without a pulley or some kind of winch system, it was so heavy. Eventually he had it back in its proper place, and he began making his way out of the Library, giving Mrs. Riverquills a small wave as he passed her and getting one in return.

Upon exiting the Griffonia city library, he squinted a bit as he eyes were more used to the somewhat darker lighting within the library. Once his eyes fully acclimatized to the bright sunlight that now bathed him, he spread his wings and shot skyward, always enjoying the rushing of wind in his feathers and fur. Opening his eyes again, he let out a squawk as he had to suddenly bank to his left to avoid colliding with another griffon. He was unsuccessful. The two collided and fell the short distance to the hard stone street below. Some feathers were knocked loose, and belongings were scattered. Before Noah could fully recover, he saw the other griff already hurrying off back into their air, without even a backwards glance.

“WHY DON'T YOU WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING, SKYHOG!” Noah shouted at the other griff, but he was already gone. Noah stood up and began dusting himself off, and straightening the askew feathers while mumbling to himself, “Yeah you'd better keep flying.” He once again prepared to take off when something caught his eye: something small on the floor. Picking it up, he looked it over. “Some kind of medallion?” He thought about handing it into the royal guard as a lost item, which it certainly was, but a small voice in his head told him he should keep it. It was certainly something he'd not seen before and it felt right to keep it, if only as recompense for being so unceremoniously knocked out of the air. So he simply put it away in his backpack.


# # #


A short while later Noah found himself standing in front of the one place he might be able to get the answer he was looking for as to why his family were counted among the disgraced and fallen noble Houses: his parents’ house. It was a simple place out in the suburbs of the Griffonia capital. Looking at it, Noah couldn't help but wonder why he had always felt so intimidated by the place when he was a chick. Maybe it was the dark stone it was built from, or maybe it was the way it seemed to loom over you when you looked up at the highest point of it. Fighting off the small shiver that was starting to run up his spine, he walked up the few steps and found himself right in front of the old wooden door which looked to have been recently painted a nice shade of red.

Nervously he reached for the door knocker, then quickly pulling away, he made as if to run but stopped himself. “Come on Noah, pull yourself together. They're not evil witches that are gonna trap you and fatten you up to eat you. Now be a cock and knock on that door!” Steeling himself, more for what he was going to say than anything they might, he reached for the door knocker, pulled it back and knocked several times. The sound of the metal knocker hitting the wood seemed to echo over and over. It unnerved Noah to no end every time.

Finally the door creaked open and on the other side an aged, but not terribly so, female Griffon stood there. Kila Bluecrest looked wide-eyed at the unexpected visitor with a smile on her beak that could have stretched for a mile. “Noah?” She said quietly as if, if she said his name any louder he might blow away like a wisp of smoke.

“Hi, Mom.” 

No sooner had he spoken than his mother grabbed him, dragged him inside and tightly embraced him, almost squeezing all the air out of his lungs. It really made him remember why he hadn't visited since he moved into his own apartment in the city. He was, however, returning the tight hug. He really had missed his parents and always did intend to visit more. He just never got round to it.

“Oh chick, it's been so long. Let me take a look at you.” Kila said finally letting go and taking a step back to get a good look at her son. “You look so handsome,” she said with a smile. “Looks like you've been keeping up with your grooming. I remember when you were five – oh, you used to hate being groomed!” she said with a distant smile as though looking back through the fog of time.

Before she could start bringing up more, somewhat embarrassing memories, Noah snapped her out of it. “Hey Mom? Where's Dad? I kinda need to talk to him.”

“Oh he's out back, chopping some wood. He'll be done soon, but if you want to talk to him you know he won't mind.” With a nod, Noah made his way through the house. Everywhere he looked, he was reminded of things that had happened as he grew up here. The stairs to the next floor where he used to sit while he waited for dinner to be ready; the door frame where he accidentally broke a front toe when he was excitedly running around. Good times. Finally he reached the back door and pushed it open. There he was – Boreas Bluecrest. Noah watched his father chop wood for a minute or so, taking in the sight. When griffons or ponies or, hell, even Thestrals say their kids look like their parents, it was mostly a few superficial things like eyes or fur color. But with Noah and Boreas, they really did look alike. Were it not for the age difference, they could have been mistaken for twins.

Noah was about to speak up and announce his presence when Boreas stopped chopping and, without turning he head, he said out loud, “Welcome home, son. Been a good while.” Putting the old but reliable ax down, Boreas turned and smiled at Noah. “It's good to see you again, son. Now why don't you get over here and give your old man a hug!”

Noah quickened his pace a little as he made his way to his father, and the two of them wrapped their forelegs around each other in a tight, though not as breath deprivingly tight hug his mother had given him. “I've missed you too,” Noah said as the hug finally ended.

Boreas clapped his son on his shoulder with a slight laugh. “Then why don't you come around more often? You keep leaving me at the mercy of your mother’s gourmet cooking. Look at me! I feel like I've put on more weight.”

Noah couldn't help but laugh. He was so glad that his mom and dad were still together after so long, and it seemed to do with the fact that they made jokes about each other. “Oh come on, Dad, you look fine to me. In fact I'd dare to say you're in better shape than when I last saw you.” Noah honestly pointed out. “But Dad, I've gotta ask you something. Something important.”

The tone of Noah’s voice told Boreas all he needed to know. He knew why Noah was here and he knew what his son was going to ask him. “Okay, son. But we'd best take it inside. But first, could you put this wood into storage for me?”

Noah nodded and began the task of gathering up the chopped wood and taking it to the small storage shed nearby. As he did, he saw his father slowly making his way back to the house. The ever-present limp making him move slower than a griff his age should be. Noah had never known his father to not have that limp, and he could tell that it was still as bad as it had always been.

After almost half an hour, Noah had completed his task. All the chopped wood was now neatly stored and locked safely away for when it would be needed. He had even made sure to put the older stuff on top so it would be used up first before his parents moved on to the newer stuff. Noah nodded to himself for a job well done, and then made his way back inside the house and found both his mother and father waiting for him in the living room.

“Sit down, son,” Boreas said.

As the younger griff did so, his mother spoke up. “We know what's been on your mind for some time, Noah, and we're sorry that we never really told you anything, only leaving you to guess and speculate.” The sympathy in Kila’s voice was unmissable. “We wanted to tell you for so long, but we weren't sure you were ready to know or that you would understand.”

“But now you are,” Boreas added. “So, Noah, ask what you've been wanting to ask us, and you'll give you the answer.”

Noah suddenly found it hard to speak; it was like a huge lump had formed in his throat and he had to swallow several times to try and dislodge it and find his voice. When he finally did manage to speak again, it was with a bit of a nervous stutter. “I... I read in a b...book that we used to be nNobles,” his voice growing more confident with each passing moment. “It said we were supporters of the last king and when King Glimfeather took the throne, we lost everything. Why?” There it was. Noah had finally asked the question out loud that had been plaguing him for so long.

“It was because of me, son,” Boreas said, and the level of shame was so palpable that it almost overwhelmed him.

“What do you mean Dad?” This was unexpected and difficult to understand. How could it have been his father’s fault?

Boreas cleared his throat and looked straight into his son’s eyes. “Noah, when my mother died a few months after your mother and I were wed, I was the head of our House. Your mother and I were only young at that point, younger than you are now by a few years. Our marriage was an arranged one, but your mother and I spent every moment we could together so we could get to know each other before the wedding.” Noah couldn't help but find that really sweet. “But one day,” Boreas continued, “King Ironclaw was holding a meeting with representatives of all the noble Griffonian Houses. As the Lord and Lady of House Bluecrest, it was your mother’s and my duty to be present there.”

Noah sat in awe as his father told the story. He had never heard his father speak so openly about this stuff before. He was describing the other House representatives and his relationships with all of them. Some he liked and some he really didn't. “Then as the meeting continued,” Boreas went on, “There was a bang and a crash, the doors to the council room had been thrown open and there he was, Argent Glimfeather flanked by several of his House troops fully armed and armored. He was the same age as your mother and I was back then, but he had considerable influence even at his age. I always respected that about him,” Boreas added as a side thought. “Then he made his way up to King Ironclaw and challenged him. Right to his face! It was unbelievable.”


# # #


Argent Glimfeather stared down the King with all the other nobles present. “You're planning another war with the pony kingdom aren't you!” He demanded.

All King Ironclaw did to reply to the young griffon was laugh; a large loud booming laugh that echoed around the meeting room, slightly intimidating all those within. “And why shouldn't I? They're prime for invasion. They only have the ONE Princess now and she's too taxed to put up any real resistance to our forces!” He then turned to the nobles assembled. “And if you all lend the support of your House troops to bolster my army, or by helping fund the campaign, you can all enjoy the benefits of new land to own. And when Equestria falls, we shall all walk together in the gardens of Canterlot.”

A number of the nobles gathered found the concept of more land quite appealing. Not to mention the fact that conquering Equestria would of course lead to more slaves to work for them. However, half of the nobles were outright against the idea and openly sided with Argent Glimfeather. A small number however found themselves on the edge of the decision, neither wanting war with Equestria, nor wanting to oppose their King. Boreas Bluecrest and his wife were among them.

However, Boreas, despite his respect for Argent, was more likely to side with King Ironclaw. He had done right by them and they had prospered greatly thanks to him and his line. Sure, Argent had a point, but where did he come off opposing the King?

“Do you realize what you're doing to the Kingdom?” Argent asked somewhat disbelieving. “You increased the taxes just to pay for this crazy war plan, and now you're lining your supporters’ pockets while some families out there…” He gestured to the rest of the city beyond the walls of the meeting room. “…are finding it hard to actually provide their own family with food!” Returning his attention to the King, Argent continued. “Have you already forgotten what happened the last time we tried to invade Equestria? A quarter of our army dead and half too injured to keep fighting. Not to mention your own father lost his life. We're still suffering from what happened when the ponies pushed their attack on us! Most of the common griffons are so disheartened they're barely able to move on and forget. In spite of all this, are you really thinking of trying again?”

King Ironclaw looked at the young griffon in front of him. It was a look that brooked no argument and radiated the fierce authority that he was known for. “So what if I am? So what if the common griffons are having trouble feeding themselves? I am the king, and this city and lands are mine to do with as I see fit! And If I decree that they should assist in raising the funds to pay for an invasion that will garner more land so more jobs can be created so they can feed themselves, then so be it! Now if you'll excuse me” he said turning his back on Argent and making his way back to his loyal supporters, “I have a war to plan.”

Argent was taken aback by Ironclaw’s total lack of concern for those he was supposed to be serving. It was then clear that he knew what he had to do. Standing as upright as he could, Argent called to the King, “Troldus Ironclaw! I, Argent of House Glimfeather, challenge you to a Duel of Succession!”

This drew a gasp from everyone present in the meeting chamber. Everygriff knew that a duel for succession could only end with the death of one of the combatants. But never had a king been challenged to such a duel before, which is why the challenge shocked all those present. Everyone except for the king.

Ironclaw slowly turned to face Argent. “You really think you have what it takes to be King?”

“If it means not treating my people like they mean nothing to me and not running the kingdom into the ground, then yes, I do!” Argent responded with solid unwavering conviction.

Again Ironclaw spoke. “You do of course realize that a Duel of Succession can only end one way, don't you?” he asked in a slight mocking tone.

“Yes, I do,” Argent replied again with conviction.

All King Ironclaw did was laugh. “Very well, I accept your challenge. I'll fight you, and when I kill you I'll make sure you're buried with all the honors due to you.”

“Then so be it, Your Majesty.”

Boreas found it hard to miss that those last two words dripped with hate.

“Name the time and I'll be there to put you out of my misery,” King Ironclaw goaded, hoping to get a violent outburst from the younger griff so that his soldiers could take him down.

But no – all Argent did was stand tall and say “Tomorrow at noon.”

“Perfect,” Ironclaw said with a grin. “I'll be just hungry enough to finish you off quickly and have some lunch. Now get out of my sight!” And for the first time that day, Argent Glimfeather obeyed his king’s order and left, taking his troops with him. Those nobles that had sided with him all left too. Once again, Boreas was conflicted but stayed where he was. After all, while he might not completely agree, he was loyal to his king.

The next day came and soon enough that clock tower struck noon. Both Argent Glimfeather and King Ironclaw made their way to the center of the arena. Both drew cheers from the gathered crowd, but neither was sure who the crowd was cheering loudest for.

As they stood facing each other, the arena announcer made his way to them. Standing between them but without blocking their view of each other, he raised a magically enhanced megaphone to his beak. “A Duel of Succession has been declared! Argent, House of Gilmfeather has claimed that Troldus Ironclaw, King of all Griffonia, wishes to incite war out of greed and a lust for land and power!” He let the gravity of the situation sink into the crowd. All they had seen today was honor duels and disciplined fighting, but this was something entirely different. This time everygriff present knew that somegriff, be it their king or the young noble, was going to die in this arena today.

Again the announcer addressed the combatants. “King Ironclaw, do you have anything you may wish to say should the battle go ill for you?”

“I do not! For I shall not die today!” Ironclaw had a grin on his beak that made Argent somewhat nervous.

“Argent. Do you have anything you may wish to say should the battle go ill for you?”

“I do not!”

“The law does not allow an alternative, therefore the Duel of Succession is formally declared!” Several griffs entered the Arena carrying segments of armor and some were carrying weapons. Argent watched them take their places on both sides of himself and the king who kept smiling. As they began fastening the armor in place, the announcer spoke again into his megaphone.

“This duel is to be to the death! Only one my leave this arena! May the gods smile on both of you and the loser be granted passage to the Great Halls.” Argent and King Ironclaw were given a choice of weapons. Argent chose a sword while Ironclaw hefted a heavy and brutal looking hammer. Their weapon of choice was then chained to their vambrace so they could not drop them. Once all this was done, the announcer spoke again.

“Take position on opposite sides of the arena, and begin when the duel drum is struck.”

Argent and King Ironclaw did so and waited for the duel drum. The atmosphere in the arena was tense – painfully so. No griff in the stands really knew how they should be feeling right now, especially Boreas. Finally the duel drum was struck, and Argent and King Ironclaw charged at each other, both taking flight and speeding towards one another while keeping low to the ground. They raised their weapons, Argent his sword and King Iron claw his hammer, both ready to strike. Suddenly another griffon landed directly between them. Both combatants had to quickly stop themselves before they collided with whoever was stupid enough to get in the way.

Finally coming to a stop they both saw that it was Boreas. All four of his feet were firmly planted and his wings were spread to their fullest blocking the path. “Boreas! What are you doing? Get out of my Way!” Ironclaw shouted. Boreas stood his ground proud and defiant.

“No, sire. I'm doing what I should have done yesterday. I should have accepted this duel for you! I won't let this usurper take the throne! And neither will I let you kill him! We can talk this out; there's an opportunity here!”

“I appreciate the gesture, Boreas,” King Ironclaw said sincerely, then his expression turned hard. “But... Get... Out... of MY... WAY!!!” With that he swung his hammer and caught Boreas on the side right at his left wing joint. The force of the blow shattered bone and sent the griffon hurtling across the arena until he crashed into the hard stone wall. He was miraculously still alive as all in the arena could tell from his howls of agony. “One of us will deal with you later, Boreas!” the king yelled as a team of medics tended to injured griffon. Then he returned his attention to Argent, and again swung his heavy hammer in an attempt to knock Argent’s head clean off his shoulders.

A quick parry and a dodge saved the younger griffon’s life, and the duel began in earnest. The ease with which Ironclaw swung that huge hammer again and again was a testament to his strength. It was possible that it might have been magically enchanted somehow so it felt lighter than it would be, but either way Argent had to try very hard to not get hit with it, because he knew that if one blow connected, he would be in serious trouble.

Again the hammer came down, and Argent brought up his sword to block. The clang was loud enough that those in the back seats could hear it. This time Argent took the offensive, pushing Ironclaw off him and swinging his sword, aiming for a shoulder hit. A parry from Ironclaw knocked the blow away. Argent, determined not to give the king a moment to find an opening, attacked again, this time aiming for a hind leg. Seeing this, Ironclaw jumped, but also flapped his wings to enhance the jump and took to the air just long enough to evade the gleaming blade of Argent’s sword.

Several minutes pass as Argent and King Ironclaw fought, yet each only able to glance the other where the armor protected them. The crowd, while initially unsure, were all now on the edge of their seats, most of them leaning forward slightly to try to afford themselves a better view. The fight was at a stalemate however. Ironclaw's hammer kept Argent at bay with his longer reach yet both often tried to press an advantage. Argent knew that if he could get in close enough, it would make Ironclaw’s hammer effectively useless. The problem however was actually getting that close.

He didn't have much time to think as again Ironclaw came at him with another attempted fatal swing. Argent parried again and saw something that he had somehow missed before. Ironclaw was usually notorious for using flourishes when fighting with his hammer to keep his opponent guessing as to where the next strike would come from, but now he was actually using very predictable moves. Suddenly it hit him: the chain! The chain that kept both himself and Ironclaw from dropping their weapons was preventing Ironclaw from using his regular moves, forcing him to use a more basic, almost amateur fighting style with his hammer, while Argent had full range of movement with his sword.

Realizing he had the advantage, Argent grinned and to Ironclaw’s surprise reversed his grip on his sword and launched a lightning fast attack. Ironclaw tried to swing his hammer to counter him but he missed by mile, much to his annoyance. Even more so because, as Ironclaw realized, Argent had scored a hit: a small cut on his hind left leg. Turning to face behind him, Ironclaw was just in time to see another successful attack, this time on his hind right leg. King Ironclaw was not known for his patience, and his anger was coming to the boil. Again Argent came at him but this time Ironclaw’s swing was perfectly timed, but what happened next shocked him. Instead of the satisfying crunch of bone and spray of warm blood he felt a hard clash. Looking, he saw Argent with an eerily satisfied grin on his beak.

Argent finally had Ironclaw where he wanted him. As their weapons were locked, Argent threw his sword up and let it fall on the other side of the haft of Ironclaws hammer, then a quick flick of his wrist caused the chain connecting Argent’s sword and armor to wrap around the hammer. Summoning all the strength at his disposal, Argent heaved the now panicked king off all four of his feet and threw him over his shoulder.

Ironclaw slammed onto his back on the hard sand covered arena floor. Looking up, he saw Argent standing over him with his sword raised above him one handed, the tip pointing straight down. Before he could do anything to react and possibly change his fate, the younger griffon brought the sword down, puncturing the armor on Ironclaw’s chest and piercing his heart. Argent drove the sword down as deep as he could and watched as the life left the now former king’s eyes.

The entire crowd was still and silent. They had just witnessed their king slain by one of their own in a duel. Argent continued to stand over the body of Troldus Ironclaw. His breathing heavy and slow, he pulled the sword free and watched the blood run from the blade and pool slightly at his feet. Then the Announcer returned, flanked by several other griffs. One of whom proceeded to unlock the chain attached to Argent’s vambrace. Meanwhile the others went to the body of the former king, placed it on a stretcher they were carrying between them, and carried the body away.

Standing beside Argent, the announcer raised his megaphone again. “Cocks and hens!” he called, finally snapping the crowd out of their stunned daze. “May I present to you His Royal Majesty: King Argent Glimfeather! First of his line! May he rule long and his line never fall! LONG LIVE THE KING!”

The stunned silence continued for a few seconds until a griffon stood and raised his claw into the air and suddenly began chanting, “LONG LIVE THE KING!” He was soon followed by another and another until the entirety of the arena audience were all standing and chanting in support for their new king.

Argent bowed deeply to the audience and then made his way towards the stricken Boreas, now attended by his wife and seemingly stable now. Approaching one of the Doctors, he asked, “How is he?”

“Well,” the doctor said, stepping away from his work, “The joint in his left wing is completely shattered. It'll knit but there was a lot of nerve damage too. He'll be grounded for the rest of his life, unfortunately. Then there's the leg too.”

“His leg?” Argent asked. As far as he could tell the only damage that had been done to Boreas was the wing. “Yeah,” the doctor sighed a little. “Seems he hit the wall hard and at a bad angle. Broke his hind right leg in several places. He'll be limping pretty badly for the rest of his life too.”

Argent looked over Boreas and the sorrow was plain to see. Boreas had suffered so much in the space of a few minutes. He was unable to fly and would be limping. It made him wish he didn't have to do what he now had to. “Boreas Blucrest of House Bluecrest... in light of your actions to interfere with a sanctioned Duel of Succession, an action that shamed both you, your wife and your House, you are to be stripped of all titles and holdings. Your House will be counted among the fallen and the disgraced!”

Boreas was less shocked than Argent expected. If anything the blue jay griffon seemed to have been expecting it. He had done what he had done, fully knowing the consequences of his actions. Even if Troldus had won, the the Bluecrest name would be finished. “I understand my King”


# # #


“Argent Glimfeather’s coronation happened the next day, and he's been the best King Griffonia has ever had,” Boreas said as his recollection of the events drew to a close. He saw the look on Noah's face. He was in shock and Boreas completely understood the reason.

When Noah's shock finally wore off enough for him to be able to speak, he asked, “So… what happened to our place?”

Boreas actually smiled a moment. “It was held by King Glimfeather for a while, then he granted it to his nephew, Ravenwing, after he won some battle or another. But you and I both know what happened to him now, don't you?”

Noah quickly put two and two together and the four he got was both a surprise and a blow. “So... that means... House Path... They're living in....”

“The former Bluecrest estate,” Kila finished. Boreas and Kila gave Noah as long as he needed to fully come to terms with everything that had been told him.

Now so much made more sense to him, including why he had never seen his father fly, and why his mother was to one to teach him to fly. “Mom, Dad... thank you for telling me all this. It's been eating away at me for so long I'm glad to finally have it all.” Suddenly he changed the subject as he saw the time on the clock that hung above the fireplace. “But it's getting kinda late, so I've gotta go. I'll see you two later.” He gave his Mom and Dad a big hug, getting one in return. As the hug ended, he went to the front door and picked up his backpack.

“I hope you’ll come by sooner rather than later,” Kila said with a chuckle, but at the same time she honestly meant it.

With a smile as he opened the door, Noah replied, “I'll do the best I can, Mom. See ya!” And with that he was gone.

Both Boreas and Kila went to the living room window and watched him fly back to the city.

“Do you think he'll be okay, Boreas?” Kila asked. The level of concern in her voice, unmissable.

“No.” Boreas solemnly replied.


# # #


Noah entered his small apartment and, with an aggravated shout, he slammed the door behind him. He had put on a brave face for his parents, but what he had learned had hurt him deeply. Sure there was a part of him that knew he wouldn't like what he would learn, but there was some part of himself that was hoping none of it would be true, and that he was just hoping like so many others do that he was a real noble. He proceeded to vent his pent up frustration on random objects in his apartment, knocking lamps over and such.

After several minutes, his anger spent, Noah sat on his couch looking around at what he had done. Luckily nothing was broken and he hadn't caused too much of a racket or his landlord would have come knocking. So he started cleaning up. Placing the last item back in its proper place, Noah headed out to his balcony and stared longingly at the full moon high in the sky.

The feeling of hopelessness was overwhelming. there were parts of him that felt like he had nothing left now.  After so much time looking for answers only to find out the worst possibly true answer he honestly didn't know what to do anymore. Turning he headed back into his apartment and looked at everything he'd gathered in his search for answers.

He looked at his collection of items almost with disgust for the first time. Everything was so well kept and clean. as though they belonged to a noble, but now he felt he didn't deserve any of them and began to gather them readying himself to dispose of them.
He hung his head for a moment before suddenly regaining his former pride. "No...I am a Noble" he told himself a strong sense of self returning. "I maybe from a fallen house now...but just wait. I'll restore my Family name"

He went back out to the Balcony and spread his wings wide and proud " You hear me world. I am Noah Bluecrest! I will restore my name to Nobility!" he looked out at the city full of pride.

Glancing in the direction of his family's former estate, he again hung his head and made his way back inside.

"I hope" he said sorrowfully. He slowly closed and locked the balcony doors behind him.


# # #


The alleyway was dark, and the only occupants were the rats that called such places as this home, skittering about in their constant search for food. They suddenly stopped and looked up. They scattered with a cacophony of squeaks as a lone griffon entered the alley. The griffon was the same one that had collided with Noah earlier during the day. He was looking over his shoulder every now and then. A clatter behind him startled him, and he quickly spun around drawing a small knife. He was visibly worried, and the knife shook in his claw. He was being followed. He stood his ground ready for anything until he saw the shadows. Terror gripped him, his knife falling to the hard stone floor with a clatter. He turned to flee and suddenly found himself face to face with two more shadows. No, not shadows; something worse. He couldn't see their faces as the black cloaks they wore shrouded their faces. All that could be seen were their glowing eyes.

He tried to run but was tripped over by another two cloaked figures. Before he could get to his feet, they had him surrounded, each of them not saying a word, only staring at him.

“You were carrying...”

“...An item of incredible power.” Two of the cloaked beings said. One finishing the sentence of the other. 

Before the griffon could answer, the next two spoke.

“It is no longer with him; he...
“...has already delivered it to its owner,” the last two finally spoke.

“He is of no use to us...”

“...Let us dispose of him, now.”

All six of them held forth a forelimb. Dark energy began to crackle around them, and then a thin beam of energy shot forth from all six and hit the griffon from all sides. He squawked in agony as he was engulfed in dark purple flames and was burned down to his skeleton which dropped to the ground.

The Shrouded ones moved in closer to each other while still maintaining their circle around the remains of the murdered griffon. Suddenly in a flash of purple light, all six of the mysterious shrouded figures vanished.


# # #


The cave was dark and damp, lit only by the torches placed in seemingly random places, the light of the flames highlighting the runic carving on the walls. In the center of the cavern was an impossibly smooth circular onyx floor. Expertly carved into its surface was a series of concentric circles with a star in the very center. Just off from this was a large throne seemingly carved from a single piece of onyx. Upon it sat another figure hidden by the shadows created by the dancing flames of the torches. A bright flash heralded the arrival of the shrouded ones, each standing at a point of the star. As one they turned to face the one on the throne. This time only one stepped forward and spoke for all as they bowed.

“My lord,” his voice echoed, “We have failed.”

“Yes I know,” the seated figure said, his voice, gravelly and old, yet nonetheless portrayed the raw power its owner held.

“Surely, my Lord,” the shrouded speaker said, “there is nothing to fear. The Medallions cannot be so powerful. How can they be?”

The figure upon the throne laughed, although it was much more like a cackle filled with evil intent but no real humor. “The Medallions are the world’s only defense against the power we possess. If we take them away, our victory is assured.”

“Very well, my Lord,” again the lead shrouded figure said. “Shall I give the order for the Hunter?”

On his throne, the shadowed one smiled, his sharp teeth cutting through the dark. “It has been given.”


# # #


On the rooftops of Griffonia, another flash or purple light appeared and quickly disappeared, and in its place a dark-furred unicorn wearing a leather harness which had several daggers strapped to it, stood in its place. He chuckled to himself evilly as he surveyed the city. “Come out, come out, wherever you are, Medallion Master. I want to play,” he said as he drew one of his daggers with his magic and slowly licked the blade in anticipation for the kill to come.


# # # # # # # # # #