//------------------------------// // Chapter 24 // Story: Hegira: Option Gamma // by Guardian_Gryphon //------------------------------// Sildinar glanced down at the small glowing disc, examining the intricate default layout of the positronic pathways contained within. “Let me be sure I understand fully; You want to make an... ‘Engraving?’ Of my brain?” Hutch nodded, “I guess you could call it that.” “And you think the resulting AI will be able to track the invasive one that infected your systems?” The technician, who had been flown in to the Bureau from Australia, nodded vigorously, “Based on what I’ve been able to learn from the initial scans of your brain, an AI based on a Gryphon should be capable of bypassing most existing security measures, and the aggressive tactical nature of your brain will leave an unprecedented template for a tracking AI.” The man was animated, clearly pleased to get such an important opportunity. His field of study was AI. Sildinar looked across the lab at the imaging machine; A biobed, with a large scanning ring around the head, “Very well. Let us get this over with.” He lay down on the biobed, resting his head on his foreclaws and closing his eyes. The ring began to spin, glowing softly as the tomographic imaging scanners embedded along its circumference pinged his skull, and sent the resulting image to a read/write particle beam array attached to the AI storage disc. The process took nearly an hour. Sildinar found himself bored, but he had the patience to hold still. Nevertheless, the scanning ring produced a humming noise that the humans didn’t seem to be able to hear. It was most annoying, it kept him from sleeping, and the Gryphon was glad when it was finally over. He got up and moved over to the work-table. The storage disc’s pathways had reshaped, going from their default angular, tessellated layout, to a complex, curvy, twisting shape reminiscent of a Celtic knot. He peered into the disc’s teal glowing depths, “How long until it is ready?” The technician was already deeply concentrated on reviewing the positronic copy of the Gryphon’s brain, but he spared a moment to speak up, “I’ll spend several days pulling out the pathways that don’t really translate to anything but inexecutable gibberish; Leftover mush made from memories, personality, and what not. Things that can't be translated to positronics. I’ll then fill that space with a logic tree of directives and the necessary military AI protocols to make it functional and weaponized.” Sildinar nodded, “And how do you plan to deliver this once it’s complete?” Hutch looked over the tech’s shoulder, squinting at the millions of lines of code passing by, “Well the infection seems to have come from Gavin/Schummel. The operative who was picking up the information drops was embedded there, so Lantry figures the best place to start is there. We’ll offload the AI to their mainframe during a routine security inspection. We reserve the right to oversee parts of their security given how much of our biomedical equipment they provide. Hopefully from there, it’ll do what you seem to do best.” Sildinar nodded, “Hunt the prey.” Wrenn had finally managed to get three hours’ sleep. It wasn’t ideal, but being a soldier had forced him to adapt to long hours without much rest. If the disadvantage to a Gryphon’s high speed metabolism was the constant need to eat, then the advantage was the sheer level of energy that could be gained from a good meal alone. Three hours of sleep, and three portions of breakfast, made Wrenn feel fully recharged and ready to meet the day. Perhaps the amount of caffeine uptake also helped. IJ was up at the crack of dawn, Carradan predictably slept in, the only one in the group who didn't have experience in 'combat rest rationing.' By popular vote, the group elected to wait a few hours, rest more, and eat an early mid-day meal before setting out again. That seemed to bother IJ a little, but she didn’t complain, which helped set Wrenn’s mind at ease. In the warm light of day, the issues of the previous night seemed pale, alien, and distant. By contrast, his forthcoming adoption into Kephic and Varan’s family was an ever-present source of happiness and excitement. While Carradan was pulling himself out of bed and helping himself to nearly as much food as a Pony could stomach, Wrenn treated himself to a quick flight around Neighvada. It wasn’t his intention to go anywhere specific, he just wanted to take in the sights under the light of day. Watching the Ponies put their hooves to their daily tasks, mingled with a few Diamond Dogs, and even one small Dragon, Wrenn became even more convinced that the business in the town primarily revolved around catering to travelers, the wealthy, and the mining operations they owned. He observed very basic electricity, gas heating, coal furnaces, steam power, and a great many interesting Thaumatic devices. Overall, it gave the society a more medieval or renaissance feel, even though technologically it was well into the industrial revolution. Minus the smog created by traditional coal burning. Pegasi seemed to be able to bottle up the fumes, and reuse them as second-stage fuel in the furnaces, like some sort of magical, and completely effective afterburner. An hour before noon, Wrenn returned to the inn. Lunch was a quiet affair. From what he could tell IJ and Carradan had suffered some kind of falling out, and Varan had rather harshly intervened, making IJ prickly, and Carradan rather timid. Silas seemed almost sorry to see them go, “Ya’ll come back if you’re ever back this way, ok now? Yer some of tha more inerestin’ customers I’ve had ‘n a while.” Kephic smiled, “We certainly will. You’ve been most gracious.” “And your food is delicious!” Carradan added. Wrenn chuckled, “Agreed.” Silas smiled, “Ya’ll have good winds, and fair weather!” The further north they flew, the more desert-like the terrain became. It wasn’t a pure-sand desert, so much as a red-dirt desert. Wrenn had seen the terrain archetype before, in old Western movies. The wind carried new messages the further they went. If he had to guess, he’d say the desert extended north and west, while to the northeast the terrain turned back to verdant, rising into Alpine peaks. Tacksworn wasn’t as long a flight from Neighvada as Neighvada had been from Foals’ Haven, so the group arrived just before sunset. The town lay at the base of a large mountain jutting up from the plain below as if a volcano, thousands of years ago, had decided to be contrary and show up uninvited to the wrong geologic location. As they approached, Wrenn spotted, among other things, two inns, one that looked as though it likely charged a fair bit more than the other, an eatery called ‘Beryl’s’, a salt bar, and separated a short ways from the town proper, a schoolhouse. Wrenn observed a higher ratio of Diamond Dogs to Ponies here than he had seen in Neighvada, and as they came in to land, he thought he saw what might be Gryphon dwellings, though he wasn’t sure, as he’d never seen one before. The setting sun framed the town in beautiful shades of red, amber, and gold; A sight Wrenn appreciated all the more since he could look directly at it without squinting. He also noticed the continuation of a pattern he had first observed earlier in the morning before leaving Neighvada. It seemed that the further north the group traveled, and the closer to the borders of the Equestrian nation, the less of a stir their presence created. The more Wrenn thought about it, the more it made sense. The northern border of Equestria was, in some spots, shared with the Gryphon kingdoms. It was only logical that there would be more co-habitation of the species in the areas that represented both the boundary between their nations and the boundary between their preferred habitats. In Tacksworn, the arrival of four Gryphons produced no more disruption to the daily routine than the arrival of any other sort of traveler. As Wrenn landed, he ground his foreclaws into the dirt a bit, taking in the distinctive texture. He cast a sidelong look at IJ, speaking directly to her for the first time that day, “So, why do they call it ‘Tacksworn’ ?” IJ shook her head, “I couldn’t say. I’ve never been out this direction.” A new voice cut into the conversation, “ ‘Cause the Ponies who founded the town stopped when the leader said ‘Tack’s Worn.’ The rest of us moved in later. You guys came up from the south?“ Wrenn turned to see a younger female Gryphon coming out of ‘Beryl’s Bar.’ She grinned, “Headed home to the Kingdoms?” Kephic nodded, “Yes. I’m Kephic, this is Varan, IJ, Stanley, and Wrenn.” The younger Gryphon stepped closer, "I'm Carmine..." Carmine cocked her head, “Wrenn? Funny name for a Gryphon isn't it?” Wrenn chuckled, “You could say its a... Carryover.” Carmine looked even more confused, until Varan stepped in, “He’s a convert. The first.” The younger Gryphon’s head feathers puffed out, in an involuntary expression of surprise, “Really? You were... Human?” Wrenn nodded, “Yes I was. Can’t say I miss it, but my opinion is biased. You could say I had ‘eye troubles.’ “ Carmine chuckled, “Wow. Well, I guess we’ll be seeing more like you through here then?” “I certainly hope so.” She jerked a thumb-talon at Beryl’s, “Great spot to eat by the way. Beryl’s the only cook in town who can whip up a decent meal for every species living here. Just to let you know; The surprise is *always* rabbit surprise.” The young Gryphon spotted a friend of hers, another young female Gryphon, and bounded off across the street to join her yelling, “Hey B! You’re never gonna believe who’s here...” Wrenn found himself fascinated by his first glimpse of younger members of the species, and he watched the two until they turned down a side alley and disappeared. He wondered how long it would take to finally get acclimated to the biological differences that pervaded his new world. Wings, horns, feathers, hooves... It was all so very diverse and complicated. Kephic motioned with his head in the direction of the more economical looking inn, “I’ll go get us rooms, if the rest of you want to get a table. Save me some ‘rabbit surprise.’ ” What started as a quiet dinner quickly turned into more of a ‘welcome to town’ party. Judging by how often he was belabored with questions, Wrenn figured the attention stemmed from curiosity about Earth, mixed with interest in the idea of Gryphon converts using Tacksworn as a stopover in the future. He had been correct in his guesses; There was a small, but appreciable, Gryphon population in the town. They even discovered that Varan had actually met Carmine’s family, briefly, at one point in the past. Her family offered to provide lodging for the night, as did several of the other Gryphon families, but Kephic had already purchased rooms so it seemed a shame to waste the bits, and to wake everyone up at a needlessly early hour. The group planned to depart before dawn. Carmine had developed a renewed interest in Wrenn when she overheard he was a soldier, “So... What are human weapons like?” Wrenn smiled and took a chunk out of his third Rabbit Surprise. It was quite good, better than he’d been expecting given Carmine’s tone. In hindsight, she’d probably been taking a stab at the ‘surprise’ part more than the actual cooking skill. “Powerful, fast, accurate. Imagine a large squared off gray slab of steel about yay big...” He gestured with his claws, “It has a space for a talon to pull back on a trigger, like an arbalest. Towards the front, it fares down, and has a snap-out blade in-case you run out of ammunition. It takes a little metal slug the size of your index talon, and accelerates it till it’s going faster than any Pegasus in history. POW. That tiny little cylinder will shred anything in its way.” Carmine’s friend, ‘B’ whose full name Wrenn still hadn't discovered, squawked in disbelief, “No! How long would it take to load? How far does it fire?” Wrenn grinned, “Far as you and I can see, and a single clip holds several hundred rounds. The mechanism reloads each shot automatically with a magnetic force, as fast as you can snap.” The two friends bombarded Wrenn with questions about ships, planes, VTOLs, and computers, and he in turn let loose questions about what it was like to grow up as a Gryphon. They seemed befuddled as to why he’d want to know about ‘boring ol’ growing up stuff’ when they could instead discuss railguns and missiles, but they humored him enough for Wrenn to become all the more intrigued. He resolved to spend some time with fledglings, to see what it was like. Wrenn had always wondered how it might feel to be a father, but never truly brokered any thoughts of having a child. The issue of being so vulnerable just didn’t allow for it, in his mind. Adoption had occurred to him, but it seemed an irresponsible proposition considering the danger he put himself in every day as a soldier, and the fact that he would be the lone parent. Wrenn got the impression that the group could have stayed up talking all night. Every resident of Tacksworn, short of the storied Ambassador Sharptooth and his son, seemed to have turned up to get a good look at Wrenn, and trade some stories with travelers over drinks. Apparently, the Ambassador and his son were away on political business. Something about the son, Chip, becoming pro tem leader of an entire Dragon clan. Since Wrenn had clearly heard one of the Diamond Dogs refer to Chip as a Pony, he was struggling to work out how *that* was possible. Despite the upbeat atmosphere at Beryl’s, IJ finally badgered them into saying their goodbyes, and getting to sleep early. She had a legitimate point, but Wrenn couldn’t help but think he would have been happier if he had just told IJ to put herself to bed and leave the rest of them to their own devices. Nonetheless, the cheap but sturdy bed in the inn provided a comfortable night’s sleep, and in the end Wrenn drifted off peacefully, grateful to be getting some decent rest. Morning came early for the group. There would be no more stopovers, just a long straight-shot flight to Tih’ré Seli’hn. As the group departed Tacksworn, turning Northeast in the pre-dawn blackness, Wrenn tightened his turn to bring him in line with Kephic and Varan, “So... Tih’ré Seli’hn. I know you told me it was the capital, with a population around fifteen thousand, but does the name itself mean something? I swear it sounds Gaelic...” Kephic nodded, “Its old Gryphic; The separate language that we use for writing and naming important places and people. Most fledglings learn it alongside the common tongue, you may find it takes some getting used to. It is far more precise than common, which is why we use it to write.” Varan added his own sentiment, “With Gryphic, there is no chance of misinterpretation in a historical record. There is a word for every variation of a concept which may be lumped under a single word in common.” Kephic took up the thread again, “The actual written script can be put down very plainly, or it can be worked into complicated designs so fraught with twists and turns that only we can interpret it properly, making it possible to record information that only Gryphons who come after us can read with any sort of comprehension.” Wrenn chuckled, “Clever. Tih’ré Seli’hn means?” “Strong Mountain.” Varan’s deep voice conjured up images in Wrenn’s mind of lofty peaks as he said the words. “The specific word for mountain, Seli’hn, also has the connotation of being a mountain containing an eyrie, as opposed to Sili’h; which is a cold lifeless peak, or Sali’hn which is a verdant, but uninhabited mountain range. The word Tih’ré, spelled and pronounced this way, means specifically the kind strength that comes from a tight-knit family of warriors.” Wrenn glanced back at Tacksworn, as the still sleeping town receded into the darkness, “So all together, Tih’ré Seli’hn actually means a mountain eyrie, strong because of its tight-knit family of warriors?” Varan nodded, “Correct.” Kephic adjusted the tilt of his wings to take advantage of an updraft, “You’ll find that most Gryphic words translate to several words, or even sentences, in common. But truth be told? It’s easier to learn the language as its own way of thought, rather than initially tying it to common.” Wrenn snorted, “I’m useless when it comes to linguistics, but I’ll do my best. It’d be a shame for me to lose out on all the great books we must have.” IJ chimed in, “Tih’ré Seli’hn’s library is legend. It contains some of the oldest accounts of history outside of Dragon hoards.” Carradan yawned, of all the group members he was the least used to rising early, “I don’t s’pose I could get a translator to give me a tour? There’s a lotta readers back home who might like a taste of the history books here, ya know?” Kephic nodded, “I’m sure something can be arranged. Several of the librarians have taken up translation as a second skill. Envoys from the Canterlot Archives have been reaching out to us recently, and the beginnings of a knowledge exchange program are in sight.” As the group flew on, dropping in and out of conversation with each other, the sun began to peek over the horizon, Wrenn noted it was about fifty five degrees to the right, which meant they were travelling more north than east. As the sun fully came over the horizon, the desert began to change to grassy foothills. After another hour of flight, the foothills became the first mountains in what looked to be an enormous range. Wrenn couldn’t see an end to the peaks in any direction save the one they’d come from. If the lifeless mountains of Earth evoked a barren majesty that chilled the soul, then the Northern mountains of the Gryphon Kingdoms were their diametric opposite. The snow-capped peaks glittered in the young, crisp sunlight, drawing the eye down their verdant pine-filled slopes towards hidden alpine valleys fed by streams so blue and clear that it was painfully difficult to take in all their beauty at once. As Wrenn gazed on in wonderment, he caught sight of highlands, tucked in between several of the peaks. The seashore of Foals’ Haven, the salt air of the ocean, the refreshing green of deciduous forests, the dry tang of the desert; They had all evoked strong emotion, and a myriad of sensations. But this? This was something beyond mere emotion. These mountains spoke directly to his spirit. These mountains were home. Home to his species, and more than that, *his* home, even though he had never been there before. Kephic and Varan seemed equally as caught up in the moment as Wrenn. To them, this was returning home after a long time abroad. Even IJ and Carradan seemed deeply affected. All conversation ceased as each of the five became entranced with taking in the sheer beauty of geologic formations as old as time, clothed in forests that ranged from murky and dark, to bright and sunlit, all interspersed with highlands, moors, and open glens. The further the group flew, the higher the mountains soared. As the sun passed its noonday peak, Kephic and Varan led them into a shallow climb, to compensate for the increase in the mountains’ size. The air was noticeably cooler, and it was refreshing after the dry heat of the desert. Just before dusk, their destination finally appeared, perfectly lit by the golden rays of the sun piercing the clear air and highlighting every tiny detail. Tih’ré Seli’hn was built directly into the craggy side of a massive mountain peak, spilling out like frozen water to partly fill a small highland glen. Towers sprang from the rock itself, constructed with a clear eye for both beauty and defense. The structures of the city-castle were all fashioned from a material Wrenn had never seen before; It looked at a glance as if it might have been carved stone, but many of the shapes it created were too flowing to have been created with a hammer and chisel, and it appeared to have no seams. The texture and tones of the stone were also unusual. Veined like marble, but with less contrast and a darker aspect, much like granite. Wrenn saw almost no harsh lines in the buildings, taken as a whole it looked a great deal like Celtic designs; Loops within loops, few straight edges. Most of the buildings were very open, but he could see how cleverly hidden steel panels could be deployed to cover open spaces and windows for defense. The stone was trimmed with actual marble in some places, and steel or burnished bronze in others. Nothing sacrificed defensive potential for the sake of art. Or vice versa. Wrenn realized it would be impossible for a non-flighted attacker to have even a hope of reaching the capital, much less assaulting it. The terrain precluded arrival by any method other than the air. Even a mountain goat couldn’t have ascended the sheer cliffs below the city. Despite its well designed defenses, the city felt open. All the windows were large, clear, and arching with no hint of internal reinforcement by way of panes or filigree. Closer inspection revealed that they were not made of glass, but some sort of tougher solid transparent crystal material. Most of the windows were kept open. They seemed to be able to iris, divide, recess, and swing wide in a myriad of different unobtrusive ways, leaving space for the wind, and Gryphons, to come and go as they pleased. The towers reminded Wrenn of modern Earth skyscrapers. Their shapes defied the expected medieval aesthetic at every turn, substituting inscribed arcs and beautiful leaf-like structuring for the usual round base and conical top that characterized the medieval castles of Earth’s history. The structure within the mountain, and its attached towers, appeared to be the castle proper, playing host to Siidran’s court, and what looked to be a sizeable barracks. Wrenn also guessed that the library, armories, and any vaults were part of the internal structure. Beyond that dwellings, shops, and defensive structures were constructed of the same flowing single-piece seamless stone, either freestanding, or hung near the top third of the incredibly tall, thick coniferous trees ringing, and sparsely populating, the small glen. The streets were made of immaculately shaped cobblestones, laid down in complex and pleasing patterns that were at once intricate, but neither attention demanding, nor garish. Wrenn noticed that while many Gryphons flew, many also chose to walk over short distances. A truly directionally unlimited society. The stairs he observed were few, and far between, likely placed there to accommodate the occasional unflighted visitor. Wrenn immediately decided he loved the aesthetic, more than any sort of architecture he’d ever seen before. Perhaps it was species bias, but he had a long standing attraction to Celtic designs, and 'bring outside inside' architecture as well, which played a part in it. One part of the mountain, framed between two guard towers, opened onto a large semi-circular landing space, intricately inscribed with twisting designs that contained, what Wrenn assumed to be, written Gryphic script. Siidran, and a female who Wrenn assumed was his mate and queen, by the similar ceremonial armor she wore, were waiting to greet them. Wrenn noticed that Carradan was practically in shock, and IJ’s usual mannerisms had given way to outright deference. Kephic and Varan were all smiles, the usually stoic latter of the two beaming, with a smile wider than anything Wrenn had ever seen on his beak before. Siidran grinned, and gave them each a strong fore-leg clasp in turn, “Welcome! Wrenn, I see you’re looking better than ever.” Wrenn chuckled, “So everyone keeps saying. I have to agree, insofar as I can without boasting too badly.” The King laughed, “It’s good to see you here. As one of us.” He turned to IJ and Carradan, “And welcome to you as well! We don’t get may Equestrian guests, far too few if you ask me. Hopefully you’re helping to set a new precedent.” IJ inclined her head, Carradan grinned, “Nice ta meet you your majesty! I’m looking forward to all this, it's gonna make a heckuva story. More like a spread really...” Siidran smiled, then turned to his mate, “Allow me to introduce my queen; Linnea.” She stepped forward, her voice was soft, and deep, projecting at once a commanding, but comforting motherly tone, “Welcome to our home!” She glanced at Siidran, “I’m sure they’re tired and hungry...” Siidran nodded, “Yes of course. Please, go to your rooms, freshen yourselves, and an evening meal will be ready by the time you’re done. Linnea didn’t think you’d want to overextend yourself socializing tonight, so it will be a small affair, just you and us. The official welcome feast will come tomorrow.” Wrenn’s eyebrows went up. 'Feast?' That was going to be most interesting. A pair of Squires, both young Gryphons wearing light leather armor without plating, showed the group into the castle, through a warren of complex, but logically laid out hallways that were built to unusually large, well lit standards to stave off the feeling of being underground. All the accommodations for guests, Knights, and Paladins, were constructed such that one wall was taken up with an external window, and that was a relief to Wrenn. His room in the Tacksworn inn hadn’t come with a window, and it was, in hindsight, somewhat unsettling. He liked being able to see the sky. The room itself was an exploration of Gryphon lifestyle for him. There was a sunning rock, like the one in the Neighvada hotel, but this one was heated either by placing it in direct sunlight, or by building a small fire into a cleverly protected oven-like slot cut into the side. The room also had a hearth, which was built into one wall, and came outwards in a semi-circle, placing the fire well within the room. Above the hearth was a cleverly concealed brass funnel, worked into the ceiling, that Wrenn could tell was producing a small draft to suck out the smoke. A fire was already pleasantly burning, and there was a poker standing in a small unobtrusive slot in the floor, in case he should wish to stoke it up. The window took up an entire wall, and was arched, fitting the dome-shaped curvature of the room itself. Wrenn found an intricate metal release catch in the wall to one side of the massive crystal pane, and upon pushing it the entire window dropped seamlessly into the floor, opening his room to the breeze. He noted that there was a small handle, still accessible without presenting a tripping hazard, which he could use to pull the window back up and, presumably, latch it into place should he wish to shut out the wind. He suspected that the window was only closed during windy rain storms, the deepest wintertime, or when there was no guest present. For a ‘bed’ the room had what amounted to a nest, made up of a strange combination of woven cushions, a circular mattress, and rocks. Wrenn guessed it was because some Gryphons preferred a harder sleeping surface. He also wondered if sometimes the rocks were heated in the fire, then placed under the chest and wings to provide warmth in the winter, or to soothe sore muscles. One wall had a small bookcase, filled with tomes, both books and scrolls, which he found impossible to read. Wrenn pulled out one of the books, a thick leather-bound green volume, and idly scanned the pages. Gryphic script was fascinating, a flowing intricacy of designs that looked more like tapestry art than alphanumerics. Wrenn replaced the book, and turned to the two other furnishings in the room. The first was a desk, complete with a quill, likely made from a shed primary feather, ink, paper, and a small mage-light lamp. He guessed the actual mage-light component of the lamp must have been made by a Unicorn, Zebra, or Dragon, then imported. The desk itself was a work of art, intricately shaped from the same stone that the buildings appeared to be made of, but with an inlaid oaken surface at the top, inscribed with beautiful flowing leaf patterns in bronze. The second and final furnishing was an armor cabinet, an upright open steel structure with spaces for an Arbalest, bow, bolts, arrows, sword, daggers, dirks, and armor itself. Wrenn felt a small pang of envy, wishing he had the equipment to fill the imposing storage rack. The only other major features of the room were the floor, and the washroom. The floor was engraved with patterns similar to the desk, which Wrenn spent a few microseconds mentally tracing, until he realized they all came back on each other. The washroom was accessible by a curved recess cut into the rock, placing the interior out of sight of the room proper. It had, to Wrenn’s astonishment, working indoor plumbing. The ‘shower,’ if it could be called that, was a circular depression with a drain cut into the floor. Water was turned on and off by means of two brass handles, one with a blue gem on the end, the other capped with a ruby. Some things were just universal. The water flowed from a concealed aperture near the ceiling, down over a flare in the stone wall, giving it the appearance of a small waterfall. Wrenn allowed himself a short, but enjoyable, hot shower. He spent a few minutes drying himself on the sunning rock, and watching the comings and goings of the city through his window. It reminded him of his Conversion dream, and he nearly allowed himself to drift off, he was so absolutely, supremely, content. As he rose, and stretched, he reasoned it was because he felt at home. He was in his native environment, among his own kind, in a room built specifically for his needs, in a style he could deeply appreciate. If this was what a Gryphon’s home life was like, then it was no wonder they felt content in battle. It was both a wonderful safe haven to return to, and an uplifting ideal well worth defending. Wrenn wandered idly around the castle’s mountain keep for several minutes, before finding the great hall. The room held him entranced for several seconds; It was a long ovoid space with a high arching ceiling. The end he had entered on flared out in three directions, two to stairs accessing a corridor below, and one to the corridors on the same level. The opposite end was entirely made up of a single pure crystal wall, that looked out on the ‘landing pad’ one level down, its two guard towers to the left and right, and the city beyond. The center of the room was taken up with a massive hearth that mimicked the overall shape of the room. Tables were pushed up against the left and right wall, with peculiar Gryphon chairs stacked on them. Presumably, these were pulled out and setup on either side of the hearth lengthways for feasts. At the window end of the room, a smaller round table had been placed, with space for the King, Queen, and the group of guests. Wrenn noticed that the King and Queen’s chairs were actually their thrones, which while intricate and beautiful works of stone masonry and bronze filigree, were not ostentatious or overlarge. There were no servers, the King and Queen were actually making the meal themselves over the hearth, together with Kephic and Varan, who seemed caught up in a happy conversation discussing what had transpired in their absence. Wrenn approached slowly, examining the food they were preparing. It appeared to be a mix of grilled fish, some sort of scallop, something his nose told him was raw sanitized pork fat stored in salt and covered in spices, some kind of brown bread, and a few assorted fruits as sides. Kephic interrupted his musings by pressing a tankard into his claws. Wrenn was pleased to note that the shape and size were absolutely perfect, designed by Gryphons for Gryphons. He sniffed at the liquid within; It was a dark amber color, and chilled to the point that it was making his claws a bit cold. The scent was incredible, some sort of eclectic mix of apple, spices, grains, and something else Wrenn couldn’t identify. He went all-in and took a deep draught. The flavor was a revelation. Instantly, every cold drink he had ever tasted, with the possible exception of iced coffee, became a tepid hazy half-memory. It was rich, without being overpowering, spiced without being spicy, and above all supremely refreshing. He idly wondered if it was fermented in any way, but quickly realized that no longer mattered. The Equestrian specialist had informed him, off-hoof, that Gryphons couldn’t get drunk due to the sheer speed of their metabolism and the protective chemical layers around their brains. “What *is* this?!” Siidran laughed, “First taste eh? Its called Heather Meade. It’s one of our specialties. It’s known to have quite an adverse effect on creatures of slower metabolism. Equestrians love it, but I’m always leery of exporting it. They can usually stomach no more than a quarter of what you just took in without becoming quite... Inebriated.” Wrenn glanced down at the mug, “I hope you have something different for Carradan and IJ. I would not want to see either of them ‘inebriated.’ Especially not both of them. At the same time. Together.” Linnea chuckled, the sound reminded Wrenn of running water in that it flowed melodiously, “We make several kinds of tea, none of which are fermented, most of which can be served cold.” Wrenn smiled, “Well that’s a relief. Stan gets wonky on the sugar from synth juice, much less this stuff.” He took another deep pull on the tankard, “Thank you. Its... Well its quite something. Especially since the only non-synthesized thing I’ve ever had access to is Coffee.” Linnea gasped softly, “You have nothing organic left on your world? At all?” Wrenn shook his head, “Nothing, short of some gene-forged kelp-like substances we can grow hydroponically.” Obviously Wrenn was the only one who knew what the word meant, so he elaborated, “Its a... Strange method of growing plants in liquid filled glass tubes, using artificial light and chemicals.” Siidran snorted, “It sounds distasteful.” Wrenn made a face, “Hydroponics itself is a fine science but... You have *no* idea. Artificial Kelp is disgusting.” Carradan arrived, and interrupted any further unpleasant memories of the green squishy substance, “Hey! That smells almost palatable, and I don’t even do meat anymore!” The talk then turned to discussing the architecture of the castle, the way the crops were grown in nearby cleared highland fields, the source of the meat, which turned out to be streams and lakes for the seafood, and dumb wild pigs for the pork, which Wrenn had correctly identified. After IJ finally arrived, and surprisingly apologized for being late, dinner commenced. The food was sublime, and the conversation was enjoyable. Siidran and Linnea had much to tell Wrenn about the current affairs of the Kingdoms, Kephic and Siidran and Varan told a few war stories, mostly about border skirmishes with Diamond Dogs and Changelings, to IJ’s clear distaste, and Linnea sang a little in Gryphic, to thunderous accolades from all. Carradan, Wrenn could see, was learning to stomach watching meat eaters without becoming sick or put-off. It helped that Gryphons were not uncivilized or unnecessarily disgusting in their eating habits. Wrenn imagined, however, that like any creature they could be quite savage in a wilderness situation. IJ barely spoke. Aside from genuinely admiring Linnea’s singing, she seemed upset by the meat consumption, and even more upset by the war stories. Siidran and Linnea were gracious hosts. Wrenn was constantly deferring to them, trying to find an honorific title they wouldn’t shrug off, but they always insisted that he not treat them overly formally. Siidran told him there were times when that was important, but otherwise Gryphons did not stand on rank and protocol. The bonds of camaraderie and sometimes even family, were too strong for there to be much need of bossy, direct, commanding leadership. IJ excused herself to bed early, but the rest of the group remained, talking long into the night. Wrenn participated, but increasingly found himself content to lapse into silence and just enjoy hearing tales of his new homeland. He realized, once again, that this was the source of his new contentment. He was, for the first time in his life, well and truly, home. Author's Note: Tacksworn, Carmine, her friend B, and Beryl's are from here: The Ambassador's Son Why aren't you reading this yet?! Go! Shoo! read it! It's one of the best stories out there, from one of the best Authors out there!