The Wings of a Nation

by Zong The Nefarious

II. Tip of the Spear

II.

Tip of the Spear

Thank the spirits! At last, I’m home! I thought as I threw myself down into the most comfortable chair within my home. The chair was situated just before a grand fireplace, which had been demanded by my wife when we were searching for a home, and was positioned so that the heat from the fire would be a comfort instead of an annoyance. To my right was a large window with its curtains fully drawn, allowing only the smallest beam of orange twilight to shine into the room.

I need a drink. But by the time the thought had come to mind, my talon was already reaching for the small liquor cabinet situated beneath the chair’s side table. I grabbed hold of the first bottle I could find, popped the cork and took a swig straight from the bottle.

Lowland Whiskey, I thought, reeling back from the strong, almost choking, taste that now plagued my mouth. I let out a heavy cough and placed the bottle down upon the side table, deciding that perhaps remaining sober, at least for a little while, may be for the best.

The entire day, no, the entire blasted week, has been nothing but one disaster after another. To start it off, there was, of course, the assassination of the single most powerful griffon in the Union, and then, thanks to my being a witness to it, I enjoyed a full day of interrogation. On the third day, Gryphus was in a complete and total uproar, and due to my regiment being stationed in the city, I received the joy of cleaning up the entire ill-begotten mess.

I lifted up a claw to rub the side of my head, which was now sporting a tremendous migraine brought about by either the stress or the sudden shot of strong whiskey… or both. The Gryphus griffons, the self-proclaimed epitome of civility and order, were making a mess of an already strenuous situation. It had taken my entire regiment four days to restore order throughout the city, and I had been with them the throughout the ordeal. In fact, I believe this is the first time I’ve been home since the assassination…

“Dear?” spoke a gentle, yet commanding voice from my left.

I turned around in my chair and looked out from the side of the too-large backrest. I was met with the visage of my mate and wife. Her feathers and fur were auburn red; her eyes a light green, almost yellow color; her talons were black; and above all, she was the most beautiful griffon in the whole damn world…

But I’d never let her hear me say it.

“Oh, hello Domitia, any letters from Lentus?” I remarked casually and returned to my original sitting position.

“Letters?!” cried Domitia with frustration as she crossed the room until she stood before me, blocking the fires warmth from reaching me. “You’re gone for days,” she flung her talons into the air, “in the midst of a riot, and you have to gall to come home, asking for letters?!”

“Well, he is my son.” I shrugged and leaned against the chair’s arm. “It’s important to keep in touch with family.”

Domitia let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you have any idea how worried I've been?!” She brought her talons down and gave me a stern look. “I go to my window, and I see soldiers marching in the streets, fires in the distance, and the whole time all I can do is where you are in all of that mess!”

“I love you too, my dear.” I said with a small chuckle, letting a smile stretch across my beak.

“Oh,” she cried, rubbing her eye. Within seconds she was grabbing onto me, resting her head against my chest. “You’re an idiot, do you know that?” she chuckled, her voice muffled by my feathers.

“Hmm, you know, I believe you’re the only one brave enough to call a Marshal of the Council such a thing.” I started to brush my talons trough the feathers on the back of her neck.

We sat there, enjoying each other’s presence. It was good, simple, basic, and after all the complexity that has been surrounding me of late, it came as a great relief. But the moment was cut short by a quick rapping at the door.

I groaned at the sound, allowing the knocking to persist for a few more moments, just to spite the griffon who interrupted my peace. After a minute or so of the persistent tapping, I tried to get up, but when I did, my wife pushed me back down, saying, “I’ll get it…” and with that, she got up and went to answer the door.

Even from my chair, I could hear my mate’s claws tapping against the wood floor as she approached the door. The door let out a loud creaking noise, as it always did, and within moments a conversation began between the unknown visitor and my wife.

“Yes, how can I… Talon? What brings you here?” exclaimed Domitia in a surprised voice. At the mention of my subordinate’s name I leaned into the side of my seat, trying to hear the conversation at the door as clearly as possible.

“Oh, hello ma’am,” replied my lieutenant in his usual pitched tone. “Is Marshal Astor home? I have some rather urgent news. I wish I could say more, but I’m under strict orders to only speak to the marshal when concerning this.”

“Well, I believe that he’s…” I could tell from her tone, that Domitia was about to lie and send my subordinate out on some wild goose chase. So, before my wife could tell poor Talon the lie, I interrupted her.

“I’m in the parlor, lieutenant,” I called aloud. “Please, do come in.”

Within moments, Lieutenant Swift Talon walked through the foyer and into the room I was in. He wore a standard dark blue officers uniform, but bits of armor had been strapped onto his neck, chest, and left shoulder. His worried expression betrayed just how frazzled the young hippogriff was, and his trembling wings suggested that he had been flying very hard to get to me as quickly as possible.

Upon reaching me, Talon gave a brisk salute which I returned with half the conviction. “Sir, word from the Council,” he declared, lowering his salute after a few words. “They demand that you report to the Citadel immediately for an emergency meeting.”

“Hah!” I laughed, grabbing onto the whiskey and taking another shot of the powerful liquor. “What isn’t an emergency these days?” I put the bottle back down and then gave my subordinate a cross look. “But I am wondering why you were at the Citadel to get this information when I appointed both you and Captain Tarn to keep peace in the lower city.”

Talon gave a surprised look and then shook his head while raising his claws in a defensive gesture. “Sir, I was sent a messenger bearing the command of the Council to come get you!”

I sighed, bringing a claw up to rub my brow. “So, they send messengers to my subordinates, telling them to send messages to me… I am humbled by the infinite wisdom of the Council…”

“I apologize, sir. I’ll be returning to my post now.” He started to walk away, but I let out a cough, causing him to stop.

“No, walk with me.” I said, getting up from my chair and stretching a bit. “If Captain Tarn has handled it so far, I doubt another hour of your absence would make much of a difference.”

Talon nodded his head. “Of course, sir,” he responded. I looked over to the room’s archway, and my lieutenant followed my line of sight to see the visage of my wife, whom was sporting a slight scowl. “I’ll just be waiting for you outside, sir,” coughed Talon, walking past Domitia.

“You’re leaving already?” she stated flatly, not moving from her position.

I strode forward and placed my claws on her checks. “I have to.” I said in a calm, reassuring tone. “I’ll be back before dawn.”

“You better be.” Her neck relaxed, meaning that I was the only thing holding her head up. When she spoke again, her voice was soft, delicate, and in complete contrast with what she said, “Because If you’re not, I’ll filet you alive.”

“And that’s why I’ll be back.” I craned my neck forward and brushed my beak against her neck. “The Council and their power be damned, you’re the only one I’m afraid of.” Before I left, we embraced once more and I found myself rather upset at the prospect of having to leave so soon.

We broke contact again, and while I was opening the door, she called out from behind me, saying, “And don’t let them pull you in any deeper than you already are!”

As I closed the door to my home behind me, I looked over to Talon and said, “This better be damn important…”

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After passing an annoyingly paranoid guard stationed at the courtyard gatehouse, Talon and I entered unto the Citadel. From outside, the structure looked as if it could fit an entire regiment within a single of its many floors. Inside, however, the place was much more… compact.

The many halls of the Citadel were filled to the brim with pages, maids, soldiers, and a number of other similar things. Chaos was the only word to come to mind as I watched the hoard of griffons push and shove past one another, trying to get to their respective destinations.

After a while, my subordinate and I reached the stairwell that would lead up to the council chambers. The stairwell itself, while still sporting a large host of griffons going back and forth, was far calmer in comparison to the nigh riotous hallways.

As we walked up the stairs, I started to feel that something was just… wrong. I knew that I was missing something obviously important but it had gone by almost entirely unnoticed. Looking up, I watched as a servant scuttled past me on his way to the chaotic floor below. And then it hit me…

It was completely and utterly silent.

Of course there was the noise of claws meeting stone as griffons walked, and the occasional shuffling of papers, but no one was speaking. Usually the Citadel was filled with the conversations of a thousand griffons, but now it would seem that speaking was taboo.

I found myself becoming nervous for no apparent reason. A feeling of dread was looming over this place like a thick woolen blanket on a winter’s night; it may be uncomfortable, but you dare not take it off for fear of the cold.

I did not like the feeling of silence; it was unbecoming and held no value to me. So, in an attempt to break it, I looked over to my lieutenant and said, “Tell me Talon, what news have you heard since all of this began?”

Talon shook his head and looked at me as if he couldn’t believe that I was speaking aloud. “I… well, I haven’t heard much, sir.” he said, regaining some of his composure as he spoke. “I heard that the former Lord Marshal, Sora, escaped before she could be captured.” He looked down as if he had forgotten something. “Oh!” he suddenly cried aloud, “They’ve issued a warrant for her immediate arrest.”

I gave him an unimpressed look and then shook my head. “I could have assumed that by the fact that they were trying to capture her.” He looked down in shame and gave an awkward chuckle. “Is there anything else?”

He looked back at me and gave a half-hearted nod. “I heard that the representatives from Highrock left Gryphus in a hurry," he paused and started to rub a claw against the back of his head. "Speaking of which, there’s a matter I think you should be informed of, sir…”

“Yes? Go on,” I said, encouraging him to continue.

“I’ve been going over the roster, sir, and it seems that nine platoon’s worth of soldiers have defected,” he spoke in a timid, almost sorrowful tone. “I looked into it, sir, and found that all of them were recruited in either the Highrock or Wintertop province.”

“That is… troubling,” I responded, nodding my head. “But if they were not loyal, perhaps this is for the best.”

“I suppose so, sir.”

After that, the walk up to the council chambers remained a silent one.

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The lobby to the council chambers had a great deal more guards than when I last visited. What had been a two-guard post had since become a thirty. Talon and I were stopped multiple times by guards, who were just a few feet from one another, meaning that for every seven or eight steps we had to repeat the same thing… over… and over… and over… and over…

‘Why yes, I am Marshal Astor. No, I did not kill him and steal his clothes.’

Perhaps I should become an assassin; that way, all the constant suspicion from nameless guards would be warranted!

While walking, I risked a glance in the direction of the secretary’s desk, but upon looking over, I saw that it was completely empty. I suppose dead griffons don’t have much need for beautiful secretaries…

When we finally reached the door, Talon spoke aloud, “Well, sir, I should be going.” My subordinate took a few steps back and bumped into one of the many guards. He apologized to the griffon, but the nameless soldier just shrugged and acted like nothing had happened at all. “I wish you luck, sir.”

“Yeah, let’s hope that nobody gets assassinated again.” In response to my words, one of the guards shot me an angry glare. Well, I think it was angry; I wasn’t really sure since he was wearing a helmet.

In response, I shrugged, snapped for the soldier standing at the door to open it, and entered unto the council chambers once again.

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“… Well yer nothin’ but an ignorant banker! You money-pinching Asgardian!” shouted a white robed, dark red griffon in a gruff, unbecoming voice. He was seated next to a small number of other griffons in similar garb.

Looking around the table, I saw that there were far more empty seats than few filled ones. As I looked between the separate groups, I tried to remember which colors represented which city. The dark-red griffon wore the colors of Rivan, a city known for its mighty defenses. The griffon he was yelling at wore the green color of Asgard, the foremost capital of wealth in the Union. Seated at the end of the table sat a pitifully small amount of yellow-clad representatives, meaning that they were from the mining city of Shatterholm. And, seated in the center of the table, closest to the late chancellor’s chair, sat the representatives of Gryphus in their blue robes.

The seats of the Highrock and Wintertop representatives, however, were completely and utterly empty.

“Come now, Gort!” declared an Asgardian representative. “You can’t expect our city to pay for your expenses! It is not our duty.”

“Hah! It’ll be a shame when the 1st Highrockian Regimental passes by Rivan on their way to raid Asgard, and we won’t be able to do nothin’ about it!” Gort gave a small shrug and then added onto his statement, “I shan’t be losin’ a tear on you though, Trist…”

“Representative Gort!” cried the Asgardian, “There is no evidence to support the claims that Highrock has betrayed the Union! While Wintertop has fallen to the former Lord Marshal, the betrayal of Highrock is nothing more than rumors and speculation!”

Gort snorted and then spit in the direction of Trist. “You feather-brained, egg-fondling, ugly pigeo-”

“Enough!” shouted an elderly council member wearing the colors of Gryphus. “I have heard enough of your senseless dribble,” he shifted his eyes away from the two representatives and onto me, “and so has Marshal Astor.”

There was a low murmur at the announcement of my arrival, and I could almost feel the tension building within the room as representatives fixed their attention upon me. I wasn’t exactly sure of myself as I took a few steps in the direction of the table, but as I approached, the murmurs and tension were broken by the heavy baritone of Representative Gort.

“Marshal Astor, it’s a pleasure to see ya!” he declared, followed by a sly smile coming across his beak. “I may be a retired soldier myself, but don’t think that I haven’t forgotten what it means to be one! It was fine work you did in maintaining order! That was some topnotch soldierin’!”

“Indeed,” chimed in the more elegant and refined voice of Representative Trist. “It is good that such competence can be maintained in the face of such a trying time.”

Gort let out an indignant snort. “Hah! I find it amusing when the ignorant speak of competence!” he declared and then started to gesture towards the Asgardian. “Perhaps you’d be willing to tell Representative Trist just how little he has to gain if his precious coin was in his banks while they are ablaze!”

The Asgardian was about to respond but before he could speak, he was interrupted once again. “Representative Gort!” shouted the Gryphus member of the Council. “If you continue to behave in such a way, I will have you escorted out, and you shall receive nothing from both the cities of Asgard and Gryphus!”

The red griffon gave him a spiteful glare, but eventually nodded his head in agreement. “Fine then, Val, we’ll have it yer way.”

“Indeed,” chimed in Trist, “we are not here to discuss matters of finance; we are here to bring the Union back together after the tragedy of the late Chancellor Vrees.”

“Is that what you’ve called me for?” I asked, finally speaking after a long session of waiting. “I thought that the inquisitor had been detailed enough to where a second round of questions would not be needed.

“By the Spirit of Mercy, no!” declared Gort, “I’d not have a griffon of yer prestige spend another second in the same room as a dreary old inquisitor! Besides, we’ve questioned all the witnesses to the event.”

“Well, all but one…” said Representative Trist, shifting his gaze from Gort back to Val and then over to me.

“And who would that be?” I asked.

“The secretary,” answered Val. “There were some… complications with bringing her in.”

“What kind of complications, if I may ask?”

Val reached over and grabbed a stack of papers out of the corner of his desk. He started to go through the stack; papers that weren’t related to what he wanted were quickly thrown aside. After a few moments of this, he gave it to a nearby page and then gestured in my direction, having the young griffon quickly dash over to me.

“Please, read the report for yourself… it’s rather fascinating.”

***
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***

…Three Days Prior…

The streets furthest from the Citadel suffered the brunt of the turmoil brought about by the death of the people’s beloved chancellor. How the news had spread so quickly was a complete and total mystery, but after current matters were settled, the knights of the Inquisition would look into it.

In the middle of one of the rioting streets strode three such knights, clad in the white metal armor and red capes associated with their station. One of the three wore a golden band across his brow, signifying that he was an officer, while the other two wore helmets that covered their entire heads. Each of the griffons were armed with short-swords, which rested within sheaths tied to their belts

“Out of the way, commoner!” yelled one of the faceless knights, shoving an elderly female griffon off to the side of the street. At this blatant show of force, the other civilians still in the street quickly retreated onto the side of the road; for even in such a terrible time, it is common knowledge that one does not interfere with the business of the Inquisition.

The three knights fanned out once they reached a humble house situated on the corner of the street. The officer looked up at the building’s balcony and then gave a sharp gesture to one of his companions. The griffon answered the gesture with a nod, opened his wings, and flew to the top of the building.

Once the knight was in position, the officer motioned for the other griffon to approach the door. The griffon did so, and once there he turned around and gave the wooden entrance a solid kick, sending the door flying back into the house.

The officer and his remaining companion entered the building in short order. Once inside, they searched all of the rooms on the bottom floor to ensure that there were no surprises waiting for them.

“Anything?” asked the officer.

“No sir, all the rooms are clea…” A slight tapping sound began to emanate from the building’s second floor, causing the knight to cut his sentence short.

The two shared a quick glance and then darted up the stairs. On the second floor there was only one hallway leading to a single room. The walls of the hall were covered with pictures of family and friends, all perfectly in place despite a generous coating of dust.

The officer’s companion jumped forward at full speed and slammed his shoulder against the door, causing it to break free of its hinges and come down to the floor along with a number of the nearby pictures. Once the barrier was gone, the two knights walked into the room.

The room within was furnished modestly and was painted in a calm, soothing shade of green. It was hard to tell what the room’s exact purpose was due to the lack of any defining characteristics besides a thin glass door that let out to the balcony.

Wedged into the room’s corner was a large wooden rocking chair, and sitting in it was the late chancellor’s secretary, Aya.

Aya glanced over towards the two griffons with an amused expression. “You could have just knocked…” she said, smiling the whole while. “I am, after all, a most generous hostess.” She stood up and started to walk over towards the balcony.

“Don’t even think about it!” declared the knight, drawing his short-sword from his belt.

She gave the knight a look of unpleasant surprise but showed not the slightest bit of fear at the sudden threat. “Calm yourself. I merely wish to admire the view of the cit…”

Suddenly, a sound came down from the roof, causing Aya to look up. She chuckled a bit while shrugging her shoulders. “Must have been pigeons… blasted things get everywhere…”

The officer and his companion exchanged an unsure glance with one another and then returned their attention to the strange griffon before them. “Ma’am,” stated the officer, “by order of the Council, you are to come with us.”

Aya rested her head upon her shoulder and let out a soft moan that was a mixture of both amusement and disagreement. “I’m afraid that’s all but impossible.” She turned around and fully faced her two guests. “You see… I already have several engagements that I simply must attend to. Really, I should have been gone a few hours ago...”

The officer squinted his eyes and leaned forward a bit. “Then why are you still here?”

An amused grin came across her beak. “Why? I was waiting for you, of course.”

“And how did you know we were coming?”

She let out a pearl of laughter as she answered his question. “Well, one does not give the leader of a country a poisoned drink without expecting company.”

The officer’s eyes went wide, and his talon came down to rest on the hilt of his sword. “You knew that the drink was poisoned?!”

“I don’t see how I couldn’t have,” she chirped. “After all, I am the one who put the poison in.” She stared at the officer, still smiling, and waited for him to react.

“Traitor!” cried the knight as he waved his sword about. “I’ve had enough of your banter, criminal scum!” The officer’s companion strode a few paces forward before he stopped dead in his tracks and simply stared at Aya through the slits in his helmet.

Aya’s eyes glowed a bright, vibrant green and were locked onto the knight’s eyes. Her demeanor suddenly changed as the smile disappeared from her break. “Traitor?” she asked in an innocent tone. “Who is this traitor you speak of?” As she asked her second question the entranced knight started to shake violently.

The officer looked on with confusion before finally calling out to his companion, “Ser Lern! What are you doing?! She has confessed! Arrest her immed-”

“Be silent Wintertop filth!” cried the knight, turning around to face the officer. “I’m done listening to your traitorous tongue!” He looked down and stared at his sword for a moment with a surprised look in his eyes, as if he had just discovered it. “I think I’ll cut it out…”

The officer was caught off-guard by his subordinate’s words and was about to respond, but the knight pounced upon him before he could say another word.

There was a flurry of violence and the room was enveloped by the knight’s bloodcurdling battle cry as he hacked at the officer with his sword. The fight was over shortly, leaving only the now blood-soaked knight to stand in the room with Aya.

He shook once more and started to look around, as if he had no idea where he was… and then he saw the bloody mess that he had created just moments before. “I-I-I… what have I done?!” stammered the knight as he backed away from the corpse of his commander.

“It’ll be okay,” said a smooth, reassuring voice.

“What?!” cried the knight, turning around to find the female griffon within arm’s reach.

“You won’t have to worry about it much longer.” She brought up both talons and took off the knight’s helm, revealing a face contorted with confusion and covered in tears. “Don’t cry, it’ll be over soon,” she said, brushing her talons against his checks in a soothing manner.

The knight seemed to be comforted by it for a short while, looking down to the floor as he continued to cry. “Wait…” he said, looking back up to look directly into Aya’s face, causing his eyes to become wide with realization. “You’re the traito-”

His words were cut short as the comforting talons brushing against his feathers suddenly grabbed hold of his head and twisted to the right, breaking his neck. The knight’s body went limp and fell to the floor just before Aya’s feet. She let out a sigh and then went over to the balcony door.

She opened the glass door and called out into the open air, “I know that you’re there… little pigeon.” Aya stepped out onto the balcony and looked up into the sky. “If you wish to share the fate of your comrades, please come down so that we may be done with it,” she paused. “But I think you’re more intelligent than that. So go little pigeon, send word to your masters and I shall send word to mine…”

For a moment, nothing happened. Aya shifted her weight to her right side and let out a frustrated sigh. “Hurry now, pigeon, before I change my mind.” she said with the slightest hint of anger.

The sound of talons scratching against the roof could be heard as the third knight ran forward, gaining momentum for flight. As he jumped from the building, he could see Aya standing on the balcony, smiling at him as he flew towards the Citadel.

***
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“Well, needless to say, that wasn’t what I expected,” I declared, returning the report back to the page that brought it over to me.

“Indeed,” chimed in Trist. “We are all surprised to see that Vrees’ trusted secretary was in league with the traitor, Sora.”

“And how do you know they were working together?” I asked.

“Despite her obvious skill in avoiding capture, I doubt that a griffon, no matter how skilled, would wish to risk such a task unless they were under the protection of a griffon as powerful as Lord Marshal Sora was.”

“Yeah… no matter how skilled,” I said, repeating the only part of his sentence that I cared about. “It almost seems like she was using…”

“Magic,” stated Gort, finishing my sentence.

“But that’s impossible!” cried Representative Trist. “No griffon has the ability to use the arcane arts. There is no simpler truth!”

“So you mean to tell us that two of the Inquisition’s finest were slain by a common secretary!?” Gort shouted across the table. “I agree that both sound absolutely ludicrous, but I have more faith in our knights than to believe that they would be defeated so easily without the odds being against them!”

“And where is the inquisitor that made this report?” I asked, coming a bit closer to the seated assembly.

“At the request of Representative Trist, he is currently being held at the House of Questions,” answered Val. “They are seeing if he is indeed telling the truth. However,” he waved a talon in the air, as if he was dismissing the issue entirely, “you are not here to concern yourself with matters of the Inquisition, Marshal Astor.”

“Indeed,” Trist chimed.

Gort merely gave a confirming grunt.

“If it is the Council’s will to tell me why I am here… before the Council… I would very much like to know,” I said, bowing my head and bending my front legs in a bowing gesture.

“I will not waste time trying to make things sound less dire than they are,” Val announced in a somber tone, his words echoing through the cavernous room. “The Union is in ruin and there is little we can do to fix it.” He started to tap upon the table with one of his talons. “Many believe that swearing in a new chancellor would alleviate our worries,” he took a moment to look over at Gort, “but chancellors must be elected by all of the clans… and as you can see, not all of the clans are present. Should we elect a new chancellor at such a time, it would be a scandal that could make things far worse…”

“However…” interrupted Trist. The Asgardian representative had a knowing smile strewn across his face and seemed to have an air of confidence about him.

Val gave Trist a blank stare but quickly continued, “However, the election of a Lord Marshal has always been the word of the majority and not the whole of the clans…”

I don’t like where this was going. I don’t like it one bit. I thought to myself as I started to realize why I was brought here.

“And while we do not have all the clans, we certainly do have a majority.” Val looked along the table at each and every one of the various representatives. “Should each of the clans present vote unanimously on a nominated candidate, there will be no controversy.” He looked over towards Representative Trist and gave a small smile of his own. “Do any clans have a candidate they would like to present before the Council?”

Trist let out a small cough, stood up and straightened his back. “The Asgardian Clan would like to put forward Marshal Astor as a candidate for Lord Marshal of the Council.”

Why…

“The Clan of Gryphus supports this nomination,” said Val. “And what of Shatterholm?” The yellow-clad representatives nodded in confirmation, and then Val turned his attention towards Gort. “Rivan’s stance?”

Gort let out a stream of gruff laughter but restored a somber tone as he spoke, “Rivan stands beside the new Lord Marshal!”

“That settles it.” Val turned his attention and nodded his head.

“A cheer for Lord Marshal Astor!” cried Gort, and was quickly followed by the cheers of his fellow representatives.

Once the cheering ceased, Val addressed the entire assembly in a loud, authoritative voice, “It is good that this matter has been settled! The Council will now go into recess until…” he exchanged a short conversation with one of his pages before completing his declaration, “dawn.”

The representatives all stood and started to walk out of the chambers, murmuring to one another. Gort, on his way to the door, gave me a hard slap on the back as he passed and gave me several words of encouragement… which I promptly ignored...

Eventually, the room emptied, leaving only me, Val, and one of his underlings. Val saw me standing there and quickly told his page to go elsewhere. Once the page was gone, the Gryphus representative came over and bowed his head to me.

“I congratulate you on your promotion, Lord Marshal Astor,” he said, spreading his wings in a humbling gesture while bringing his head back up.

“I don’t want it…” I whispered, giving the older griffon a hard stare.

Surprisingly, Val didn’t flinch, not even a little bit. He simply retracted his wings and returned my stare with a small smirk. “I know you don’t.”

“Why then?! Why would you do this if you knew I didn’t want it!” I hissed, barely able to contain my frustration.

“Because, Lord Marshal, it does not matter what you want.” he said, coming so close that I could smell the rich, fruity scent that came from his undoubtedly expensive cleaning supplies.

“What?”

He leaned even closer. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Astor,” he stated in a threatening whisper. “Only a clawful of Marshals remain loyal to the Council, and a very few number of them are in the position they are because of merit.” He backed away a bit and gave me a cold stare. “You will be the new Lord Marshal, Astor. You have no choice in the matter. And should you, for some reason, make this more difficult than it has to be,” his eyes narrowed as he gave an idle flick of the wrist, “I will destroy you… understood?”

I lowered my head in defeat. I had not spent my time in the Citadel building up a political web of influence like Val obviously had… his threat was simple and powerful. I knew that he could indeed make my life, and that of my family, a living nightmare.

“I understand,” I retorted, holding back my frustration. “There’s just one thing…”

“And what would that be?” he said, cocking an eyebrow.

“You’ve just made my wife a very unhappy woman.”

He let out a laugh, but his serious demeanor returned in short order. “Lord Marshal Astor, I daresay that by the time I am finished patching the Union back together, your wife shall be in good company with many other unhappy women…”

“And you’re fine with that?”

He shrugged. “No, but it must be done,” Val said sadly. “Although, I won’t be doing it alone… you’ll be right there with me, at the very tip of it all…”

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Author's Notes:

Hey there! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter and didn't find it too boring or cheesy. Now, to those of you who are saying: "WTH, Zong! It says that Gilda is going to be in this right there under the chapters! Why you lie?!"
Well, I hope that I can satisfy you with the promise that there will be at least 37.8% more Gilda in the next chapter!

Big thanks to:
Book Smart
And
Meeester
for reviewing and editing the story :D

Hope you enjoyed the story, and if you like my style of writing I'd appreciate it if you checked out my other stories too... or just comment, commenting is just as good.

Comments

[Admari]

Huzzah! An update at last!

[Zong The Nefarious]

1007471

Need moar comments! MOAR! Tell me what you think of the chapter please :D

[Admari]

>>Zong the Nefarious

Hold on, I'm still reading it!

[Book Smart]

*obligatory comment from the editor*
I don't really know what to comment on, since I kind of already told you what I thought of it when I was proofreading/editing. I can, however, say that I like the additions you had in addition to my additions.
((also I'm going to complain because the first chapter of each section isn't indented but the others are, even though that's partly my fault))

[Zong The Nefarious]

1007566

Actually, I purposefully don't indent the first paragraph of each section. I find that it helps some readers adjust to the scene change a bit better for some reason. (A break in the writing, if you will.)

[Book Smart]

1007588
That's... actually really clever. Hm, I'm surprised I didn't think of it like that, since that's supposed to be my job.

[MyLittleSoldier]

Awesome new chapter.

[abandoned2123]

Hi there!

I'd like to firstly apologize for being so late in going over this. It's been one internet handicap after another, but I was finally able to sit down and read the second chapter.

To go into my overall thoughts, I quite like what you're doing here. Sculpting a world can be very tedious work, and it takes even more effort to keep your culture consistent. There were a few times (particularly in chapter one) where you would occasionally pile on more information than the audience might be inclined to swallow at once. Make sure that you try not to turn your story into a lecture. Introduce us to your world through the dialogue and the daily life of your protagonist. Explaining the concept of 'hippogriphs' is a good example of you doing this right.

Unreliable first person narratives are a good way to cloud the audiences' perception of the world that you're building, and you took advantage of this relatively well, but there were times it seemed like you might have forgotten about the character that you were portraying. In the first chapter, you did an excellent job of integrating his opinions in with your prose, but in the second chapter, I noticed a few awkward sentences that didn't seem to fit the personality that you've built up.

"Gort, on his way to the door, gave me a hard slap on the back as he passed and gave me several words of encouragement… which I promptly ignored..."

Be careful with using ellipses, and I would highly suggest that you avoid using them in your prose. At most, use them sparingly in your dialogue to illustrate a pause, but having one after another in your prose is simply jarring. It breaks your flow and leaves the reader frustrated that they have to have to gloss over them.

In the second chapter, you cut from the protagonist about to read a report to a event that happened three days prior. Your perspective is solely focused on this particular character, so why not show the audience what he's reading rather than cut from one place to another? While this in of itself is not 'wrong', I would consider giving the flashback it's own chapter, and then cut back to Astor looking up from the report in the chapter after that. Or you could have the characters explain the situation to him through some dialogue to see his reactions to everything.

"They held an air of unyielding intellect and seemed to be cut from pure emerald."

With an unreliable first person narrative, some purple prose is acceptable, but make sure that you keep it minimal. Only saturate your descriptions when you feel that it's absolutely necessary to illustrate what the character is thinking about something or someone else. You've expressed Astor's affections well, but try not to go overboard.

“Truly mien friend?” he said with a slight chuckle, “vell I do not envy you. Lord Marshal Sora and Vrees got into quite the little spat; something about succession and how he could not keep going without zehr’ being some inclination to an heir.”

Writing accents is akin to walking on eggshells. You don't want to overdo it to the point where your readers will have to pause to interpret the dialogue. Not to say that this is over the top, as it isn't, but it is close.

Your interpretation of griffons as a war-hardy sort is fascinating, and I don't really have much more to say for you. In my personal opinion, though, I would have written this in third person, that way your world-building doesn't come into conflict with the character that you're sculpting as well. Still, you've done a fine job with this.

I wish that I have more to say for you, but I don't. This really is a fine piece of work. If you would like for me to try and get more in-depth with the issues that I presented here, then please let me know.

Cheers!

[I Brained My Damage]

The chapter was great; simple as that.