An AI was one of the most astounding achievements of the human race. A large part of the technological singularity was attributed to the invention of the positronic processing core that formed the basis for the technology.
AI were not sentient, but they were computer programs that could 'learn,' 'create,' and pass the Turing test; An AI could pass itself off as a person in conversation 9,999 out of 10,000 times.
The capability stemmed not from an actual capacity for emotion, but from the capability to learn, imitate, and even be creative, in an antiseptic non-intuitive sense within the field of their operation.
Since their invention, AI had run virtually everything on Earth, from water supplies to air traffic control. Fighter craft, such as the FA-26 Scythe, would have as many as three AI; One for avionics, one for weapons, and one for electronic warfare purposes.
Naval vessels would often be running over a dozen AI in stand-down condition, and that number could triple in battle. Major cities relied on hundreds, or even several thousand of the programs, to handle the power grid, internet, emergency 911 call centers, sewage, traffic lights, subways, shipping, anti-terrorism security, and any other administrative service that didn't need the human element of intuition to function reasonably efficiently.
An AI could not be programmed from scratch, the complexity was simply too great for even an entire company's worth of computer scientists to handle in a lifetime. Instead, a technique had been developed to flash image a brain, and create a positronic network from the resulting data.
A programmer could then strip out the worthless 'white noise' created by things like personality, memories, and emotional layout, filling that space with more traditional coding to give the AI constraints, a database, and a set of instructional heuristics to lend it purpose.
Despite the inability for personality traits to truly transfer over to an artificial construct, certain tendencies of the initial brain-image would be retained. An AI based on a human scientist would, for example, have a higher degree of technological 'creativity' than one based on a soldier, which would be more militarily capable.
The world's first Gryphon AI had inherited four main traits from Sildinar; A penchant for stealth and stalking its objective, a sense of battlefield logic, and a combination of undergirding aggressiveness and impossible speed that no security program, AI or not, on the planet could ever hope to match.
Since an AI could only run natively within a positron based computing device, the particular AI, dubbed 'Chuck' by Hutch, was delivered to Gavin/Schummel by a government 'snap inspection team.'
When no one was looking, a technician inserted Chuck's original storage core into a deep level access port in the building's mainframe. Armed with government access codes, the AI instantly took over root kernel access, systematically attacking, silencing, destroying, and rebuilding the security AI to its own specifications in a record 0.68 seconds.
In less than a second, Chuck had seized control of all computing assets belonging to the world's largest biomedical firm. The AI had sole root control over communications, stocks, secret patent data, and every other piece of 'digital footprint' that the company possessed.
Within another ten seconds it had indexed, searched, and collated every piece of available data in the entire system, and determined the next course of action necessary to fulfill its objective; Work its way into a PER mainframe.
King Siidran had not been exaggerating when he said 'feast.'
The festivities began informally. Gryphons began to gather in the great hall in small groups while the food was brought out, and prepared on the hearth. The main fare consisted of meat, both cooked and uncooked, a great deal of which was fish, scallops, or shrimp.
Aside from that, there was also a fair bit of wild boar, and smaller strips of something Wrenn learned was dire bear. Apparently the more dangerous the creature, the more prized the meat.
The rest of the portions were enormous, even by Gryphon standards, and it didn't look as if anyone would go hungry. There were at least five kinds of bread, several types of berries, a multitude of cheeses, and apricots, to act as side dishes.
The great hall was filled with the smell of cooking meat, which likely explained why IJ and Carradan weren't present. When Wrenn asked Linnea about them, she reassured him that they would receive their own, less offensive, but no less grand, meal.
As the cooking preparations neared completion, most of the Gryphons who weren't busy with skewers of meat lined up to pull out the huge tables pushed against the walls, and lay out the accompanying chairs.
Gryphon chairs were strangely shaped, from the standpoint of Human design sensibilities.
The legs were short and thick, the seating area shaped to accommodate a tail, and there was no back to interfere with the wings. They were almost more in the vein of ornate comfortable stools than chairs.
By the time the tables were fully prepared, and the food laid out, the great hall was full to overflowing. The same routine was doubtless being carried out in other dining halls, and suitable locations around the stronghold. There was simply no way to fit the better part of fifteen thousand Gryphons into one great hall.
As Wrenn began to fill himself a plate, he spotted Neyla. She was standing near one of the entrances, looking more than a bit uncomfortable in the crowd, if it could be called that. Humans would have filled a comparable space to a far higher density than Gryphons naturally did.
He worked his way over and offered her a smile, "The fish looks fantastic! Here, take this, and grab a seat." He passed her the plate, and gestured to the royal table, which was laid out with space for himself, the King and Queen, Kephic, Varan, and three others.
Neyla's eyes widened, "The royal table?"
Wrenn shrugged, "Sure. It's not full, things aren't overly formal, and I'm sure I'm allowed a plus one."
"Plus one?"
"Human expression. I tend to do use them a lot. Annoys the heck out of Varan, so sometimes I do it just to see his head-crest shoot up."
Neyla looked a bit dazed, but began making her way to the table, slowly.
Wrenn turned to make himself another plate; There was no clear line, everyone was simply helping each other to find a skewer of something they wanted in a disorganized, but efficient mob of wings, tails, and beaks.
Wrenn finally managed to make himself a plate, composed of a heap of fish, a deep dish of scallops, two loaves of bread, and a strip of dire bear meat. He made his own way to the royal table, and arrived just as Kephic and Auric did, rolling a large cask between them.
Siidran clapped him on the back, "I'm a Gryphon of my word, and in this case quite glad to have lost the bet. Brelik tells me you acquitted yourself well in the trials."
Brelik was already seated at the table, beside Varan, he raised a fist in salute, "He did indeed. It took me some time to get my axe out of that boulder."
Wrenn chuckled, "Sorry, I didn't mean to make *quite* that much trouble for you."
Brelik laughed, and nudged Varan.
"I like his sense of humor. Reminds me a little of you and Kephic."
"He should. We're going to be adopting him."
Auric looked taken aback, "Really? That's quite a development!" He glanced at Wrenn, "You're very lucky, you're being invited into a wonderful family."
Wrenn smiled, "Don't I know it."
He shot a quick look at Neyla, and was surprised to see a brief flash of strong emotion cross her face. Her ears reflexively flattened, her crest drooped, and her eyes flicked down, as if something they had said upset her.
Wrenn quickly changed the subject. It wasn't the time, nor was it his place, he decided, to go digging into Neyla's personal issues, "So, shall we get started on that cask?"
As they passed around tankards of Heather Meade, Wrenn introduced Neyla, "I met her in the library. She helped me pick out a new name, and gave me the only linguistics lesson I've ever partially understood."
He went around the table, introducing each of his friends to her in turn.
When he finally came to Brelik, the black Gryphon displayed a small knowing smile, "I have heard of you before, Neyla.
Larande's daughter. Your father's exploits as a Sentinel are legend."
Wrenn took a draught of his Meade and raised an eyebrow, "Sentinel?"
Varan explained, "A warrior who holds to no clan beyond their own family, and holds no rank in the brotherhood of Knights, but accomplishes exploits in battle alone or with the help of only immediate family."
Wrenn suddenly understood Neyla's reaction to his adoption. She was clanless, and if the way they referred to her father in past tense was an indication, she had no living relatives.
A situation Varan and Kephic had described as difficult at best.
Neyla was hurt because in Wrenn's forthcoming clan-joining, she saw everything she wanted but didn't have.
Wrenn again decided to steer the conversation away from the touchy issue, "So, how do I go about getting gear? I don't have any money, I don't even know what we use for money, and I have no family to inherit armor from, unless you two," he glanced at Kephic and Varan, "keep a spare set in my size."
Siidran chuckled, "Your situation is not unheard of. In cases such as yours, where you have nothing to inherit, you forge a new set of armor, a bow, and a sword, which you can then pass down should you start a family of your own."
Wrenn nearly choked on his fish, "Uuuhhh... firstly, I don't know the first thing about using a forge. Second, I'm not really in to the... Well the..." he blushed, glad that his red feathers hid the embarrassing effect, "...I'm not much of a romantic. I'd rather avoid it. Not a fan of being so vulnerable," he glanced at Linnea and Siidran, "No offense."
Linnea smiled, "None taken. Mating is not for everyone, it would be foolish to think that it is."
Brelik chuckled, a deep ominous rumble, "That said, it is something for most."
He punched Wrenn 'lightly' on the shoulder, nearly bruising him, "You managed to get off that lake bottom in record time. If you can handle that, you can handle a mate."
"Well be that as it may, I have no inclination to seek that out."
Again, Wrenn noted a flash of emotion on Neyla's face, this time an inscrutable feeling, clearly not depression. Almost curiosity.
Kephic snickered, "Well, in any case, if you were wondering we use small gold pieces for currency." He dug into the feathers near his neck and produced three small perfectly octagonal pieces of gold. The currency was smooth and featureless, save for a set of pits on one side, and a set of stubby nubs on the other. "They attach, for easy carrying."
He demonstrated by fastening the pieces together into a short octagonal rod, "It makes it easy to store, carry, count, and use."
Auric nodded, "There is a basic allowance every citizen receives after reaching adulthood. Every Knight gets an additional stipend, according to rank, and more for those who are full time warriors with no other source of income. You'll get your first tomorrow most likely."
Siidran nodded, "I've already seen to that. As for your concerns of skill, we don't expect every warrior to be a complete expert in metallurgy, so your role is more as an overall designer and heavy lifter. You'll be guided by experts at every turn."
Wrenn smiled, "Well then, I'm quite looking forward to this. If there's one thing I love, its well designed weapons and armor."
Brelik thumped the table, "Spoken like a true warrior."
After a short silence, during which everyone was mostly concerned with their food and drink, Wrenn turned to Neyla. She seemed ill at ease, and he wanted her to feel more at home with the group, so he chose his conversation topic carefully.
He wanted to draw her out, and get her talking freely, but not touch on a raw issue.
"So what about other Gryphon settlements? This is my first time in one, and I'm curious to know how smaller settlements function."
Neyla started off, timidly at first, "Well... It's not much different from here. Functionally. Of course, it feels very different, and of course the layout can vary wildly...."
Wrenn cocked his head, "How do you mean?"
"Well, for example," she began to warm to the topic, "A settlement in the forest will be made of circular dwellings built around sturdy tree trunks near the top of the growth, in a space cleared of branches. A settlement in a rocky area might be built straight into a cliff face, and one on flatlands may even be made of something resembling a nesting burrow. The city, here, is a good place to see examples of all our architecture together though."
Wrenn nodded, "What about defenses?"
"Well the villages in the tree tops are hard for enemies and beasts to reach period, and the same goes for cliff dwellings. In any case, all our settlements have a barracks, a fully stocked armory, a town watch, and a contingent of standing warriors."
"What about the economy? Some of it was covered in my primer courses, but I'm always looking for fresh perspectives."
"We're known for being the best metallurgists in the land. Diamond Dogs may be better at finding and mining materials, and Dragons may hoard the most, but we of all the races are best at making those materials into well crafted machines, both of war and peace. We will also trade in food we grow and hunt, as well as knowledge by way of the most up to date and detailed maps of the frontiers."
Varan devoured a whole strip of meat in a single gulp, "We will also act as freelance warriors at times, but who we allow to hire us and the jobs we do are always governed by our morality first and foremost, with *no* exceptions."
Wrenn didn't want to start an awkward topic, but the question had been gnawing at him since day one, "What happens when a Gryphon... Goes bad?"
Siidran let out a harsh sound, midway between chuckle and growl, "If it does happen. Apocryphally there are accounts, but even if they are true it only happens once every thousand years or so. We take our code very very seriously. It defines us, even more than our form. Any who would violate it would die a violent death before their names can go to the history books. If we did not kill them, their conscience would cause them to put themselves in a position to be killed before long."
Wrenn shivered and decided to switch topics again, "So... Advice? If I'm about to be an Alarian, I want to avoid common mistakes."
That lead to a much happier conversation that lasted for a solid hour. Everyone went around the table recounting stories, usually of amusing mishaps or difficult situations, and passed along wisdom or encouragement. Even Neyla had a go, telling a story of a time when she and her mother had fought, and killed, a dire bear. She had barely been fifteen at the time.
Wrenn realized that her social timidity, and demure politeness, rested atop a copious reserve of strength.
It made sense. If she was living and surviving on her own as a Sentinel, then she would need to be resilient, resourceful, and strong.
Neyla and Skye would have been great friends. The thought crossed Wrenn's mind with such sobering force that he nearly dropped his meade. He had a sudden desire to be as far away from Neyla as possible. The last person, after all, that he'd tried to befriend in order to help, was dead.
Most of the Gryphons at the table missed his moment of emotional turmoil, but Kephic was staring right at him when it happened, and he shot him a knowing look. His eyes were fierce, almost bordering on angry. The message was clear; Don't you dare start on self-recrimination.
Wrenn believed his threat to put him in a headlock had been made in all seriousness, so he did his best to stifle the sobering train of thought. The night was supposed to be a celebration anyhow, and he figured Neyla wasn't going to be a part of his life for too much longer.
As if to aid his attempts to cheer up, Siidran chose that moment to begin the ceremony.
He stood on his hind legs, and banged his tankard on the table, producing a resounding series of thuds. Silence swept the great hall, slowly at first, then gaining momentum.
The King nodded to two Gryphons who had previously been standing out of sight in one of the room's entrances, "My friends! Tonight, we are here to celebrate the making of a Knight. But more than that... We are here to welcome him to our very species. He is the first of many, and I have little doubt that his name will grace the histories both for this, and for his accomplishments yet to come."
Siidran leaned down and pulled Wrenn up to stand beside him. At the same time, the two Gryphons who had been sequestered in the entry arch arrived at the table, bearing an intricately inlaid lacquered wooden box.
The King flicked open the lid to reveal a gray sash with silver edging lying on a bed of deep crimson. The fabric had a dull glint to it, as if metal had been subtly woven into it, making it reminiscent of liquid silicon, or platinum.
He removed the sash, straightened it, and placed it over Wrenn's head and shoulders so that it lay crossways across his chest, and looped back around, lying under his wings.
"Wrenn, It is my honor to make of you an Alarian in the brotherhood of Knights, with all the responsibility and benefits thereof." Siidran reached down and removed a golden object from the sash case. It was shaped like a stylized sword thrust through a trinity symbol.
Siidran pinned the ornament to the sash, just a few inches above center, and gave Wrenn a solid thump to the shoulder blades, "Hail, Alarian!"
There was an accompanying clatter as Gryphons all over the room slammed their mugs and fisted claws against tables. A reply rang out from all, "Hail!"
Wrenn had never been happier, with perhaps the exception of the moments after his conversion itself. He felt welcome, and once again he felt as if he had accomplished something major without losing part of himself along the way.
For the next two hours, he found himself swept away in the crowd, shuffled from table to table as his fellow Gryphons congratulated him, and plied him with questions about his past experiences, and his future plans.
When the festivities finally began to wind down, and he managed to rejoin everyone at the royal table, the moon was well past its halfway point in the sky.
Siidran, Kephic, and Varan were no longer present, leaving Brelik, Neyla, Auric, and Linnea locked in a heated debate over the merits of the various types of bow wood.
Wrenn stood to the side for a moment, content to watch the good natured argument.
To his surprise, Neyla was one of the most avid contenders, and she finally seemed to have completely forgotten her timidity.
Eventually Linnea noticed him, "I see you received quite a welcome."
"Does this happen to every Knight who gets promoted?"
Linnea chuckled, "Oh yes. But I think there was a further special interest in you. You represent something new, and potentially very exciting to our people."
After a comfortable moment of silence, Neyla got up and smiled apologetically, "Well, if you'll give me leave, I'm going to make good use of the night hours remaining. I have much work to do tomorrow, and I need at least some rest."
Wrenn offered her a claw, "I hope you enjoyed the evening."
She hesitated before clasping his foreleg, but only briefly, "I did. Thank you. It has been some time since I had a dinner with real companions." She cast a glance at everyone around the table, "You've all been delightful!"
Auric raised his tankard, "As have you."
Wrenn nodded, "Good luck with your search."
The look she gave him was, once again, difficult to classify.
A mixture of surprise, appreciativeness... And perhaps a little fear.
After Neyla left, the conversation continued for a few minutes, until Linnea informed Wrenn that Siidran, Kephic, and Varan had left to prepare for his formal adoption, and that by now they were most likely ready for him.
Leaving Auric and Brelik behind, Linnea led Wrenn back to the Concourse, then on a short flight to the peak of the mountain. As they rounded the peak, Wrenn saw that a flat space was cleverly tucked into a cleft of rock, making it nearly invisible from most approaching angles.
The space was perfectly circular, perfectly flat, and the granite of the ground was scored with a multitude of ancient patterns. Torches, actual burning torches, ringed the space, set into iron sconces that were hammered directly into the rock wall.
Wrenn couldn't read much Gryphic, but he did know some of Earth's ancient history, and he quickly deduced that one of the functions of the stone inscriptions was to act as a sophisticated solar and lunar calendar.
The center of the space was occupied by a perfectly circular raised stone hearth. Judging by the shape of the rock, the entire area, hearth included, had been chiseled out of the mountainside as a solid single construct.
Siidran stood before the hearth, wearing a silver sash adorned with a complex gold and platinum ornament, inlaid with a sapphire, that Wrenn assumed was the sigil of Kingship. Kephic and Varan stood behind the stone protrusion, likewise wearing sashes adorned with their ranks and another smaller bronze ornament. Both bronze emblems were identical, leading Wrenn to guess that they were clan or family emblems.
The hearth itself contained a few smoldering coals, but no flames.
Linnea landed and moved to stand by the edge of the circle. Siidran gestured Wrenn forward to the hearth. To Wrenn's surprise, he reached in and picked up one of the burning coals, carefully, between his thumb and index talons.
Wrenn knew, from experience, that talons were texture and pressure sensitive, but not temperature sensitive. The yellow part of the claw was, but it had a higher tolerance than a human hand by far due to the resilience of the scaly material.
Nonetheless, Wrenn suspected the coal would hurt a fair bit if pressed against the sensitive part of the claw.
When Siidran spoke, Wrenn was forced to re-evaluate him. There in the torchlight, surrounded by the trappings of ceremony, he seemed older and sterner. His voice carried a harder edge of authority, "You have been brought to this, our most ancient ceremonial place and the site of the founding of the original seven clans, to receive adoption into a clan and family of your own."
Siidran looked over his shoulder at Kephic and Varan, "Does your offer of brotherhood still stand?"
They spoke in unison, "It does."
The King fixed his gaze on Wrenn, "And will you accept?"
"I will."
"Step closer."
Wrenn did as he was told. Siidran continued speaking, "At this very hearth, over these eternally burning coals, the first clans were forged, and the first King was chosen. For us, there is nothing more sacred and more important than the bonds of family and clan. For those joining a new clan a change of name is not untoward. Do you wish to take a new name?"
Wrenn nodded, he didn't know if there was some sort of ceremonial way to cement his choice, so he simply spoke as he felt was appropriate, "I wish to lay down Wrenn, and take up the name Fyrenn."
Siidran held the coal out at foreleg's length over the hearth, and beckoned to Wrenn, Kephic, and Varan.
One by one, Siidran forcibly took their right claws with his free one, and forced them onto the coal, allowing his own talons to fall away once Wrenn's claw had been pushed into place.
The three stood for a moment, sharing the searing heat and pain. It hurt, but not enough for Wrenn to cry out. Kephic and Varan both offered him a smile, and that helped.
Siidran allowed a second of silence to pass, "This day, you become Fyrenn, brother of Kephic and Varan, member of their family and clan Kh'yn'eos." He brought a fisted claw down on the coal, forcing it out of their grip and back into the hearth.
Fyrenn stole a glance at his claw. It was a little scorched, but nothing overly severe. The coal had been in a cooling phase, and the scaly material of the extremity was quite resilient.
Kephic and Varan stepped around the hearth to stand beside him. Kephic carried a duplicate of the bronze sash ornament that he and Varan wore. He leaned forward and attached it smoothly to Fyrenn's sash.
The moon glinted off the object, underscoring its complex script and emblem in silver.
"Is it for the clan, or the family?"
Varan smiled, "Both. When you learn to read the script, you'll be able to tell a Gryphon's clan and family name by looking at their sigil." He paused, then in a rare display of emotion, embraced Fyrenn with his wings and forelegs, "Welcome to the family brother."
As he released him, Kephic repeated the gesture, too choked up for words.
As the moon dipped toward the horizon, a clan of two left the most ancient high place of the Gryphon Kingdoms as a clan of three.