Chapter Four
Up and Up
There's a multitude of sayings every species has to it's race, the vast majority of which only make sense to the species itself, such as the dwarven saying of "If it's by the Soil, it's probably a rock of Galan," which basically means something akin to saying something is of amazing fortune. The elves, by comparison, have the saying "Spring in Glen, Winter in Plain," though these sayings sound quite different in their native tongues and don't have direct translations. To say she was struck by good fortune was a bit of an understatement, as far as the elf felt.
The griffon softly landed and, if were not for the utter silence permeating the forest, then it would not have been heard. The soft crunch of long dead leaves, which had in all it's oddness had never struck the elf as odd because nothing had died in the forest for ages nor had winter fallen in just as long, had come from the opposite side of the thicket than she was facing. Not breathing at all, the elf listened as talons crushed dead leaves, weeds, and grass alike. The sounds faded off for a moment and she took the moment to take another breath.
The griffon turned back, frowning. She was certain it had been here just a mere moment ago. Mentally muttering to herself about how ridiculously vast and covered the forest was, she started checking behind the nearby trees. Carefully, the elf shifted herself as far under the plants above as she possibly could. Had one looked at her from directly above, they would've seen small places where her skin and clothes were visible, but, as it was, the griffon was in fact not flying at the time and hence saw nothing to give away the hiding place. After a few more moments of frustrated searching and muttering, the griffon took back to the sky, leaving the elf to breath in relief.
As it were, the elf pulled herself out of her spot and smiled, her first encounter with a creature she hadn't seen in ages and she had successfully lived. Griffons back at her home, wild griffons at the very least, were quite vicious creatures and their domesticated cousins were still dangerous if one handled them wrong. Thankfully, griffons were anything but the smartest of creatures, a fact which remained relevant here it seemed.
Brushing the leaves off herself, she turned back the way she was heading and trudged along. Now that she knew things might be watching her, she took care to keep away from spots where she could be seen from above. Her long life in this ancient forest gave her quite the edge and she was able to avoid areas where she could easily been seen. A good decision, she decided, as she heard the flapping wings over her head and saw the griffon passing over one such spot. It was seemingly frustrated, yelling in what sounded oddly like heavily mangled speech.
The griffon passed over parts of the forest multiple times in an effort to find that creature, the one she had been sent to track. Evident, even to her, she had lost the thing earlier and there was little chance she'd find it now that it knew it was being followed. At least she could return with some information, the creature was definitely intelligent. It might not be capable of speech, but it was certainly more intelligent than the average animal by a fair margin if it had noticed her and escaped.
Cursing quite loudly, she took off towards the griffon lands, which, by chance, happened to be the same direction the creature was now heading itself. The griffon of course didn't know this and flew off straight for her home. The griffon lands, lawless lands governed not by kings or princesses but by warlords who had gained power by fighting and in some cases, killing, their competition, were full of griffons that would have killed the creature and attempted to sell it. Such was the way of the land, warlords were only obeyed by citizens to avoid death, however, those under them were typically of a brutal breed and respected their masters for what they had done.
As opposed to the others, she was working under him because he had equivalently raised her. He had taught her from a young age about how to fight, how to steal, how to do many other necessary skills in their cesspool of a country. His real daughter, whom he had trained similarly, stood by his side. In reality, she was raised to be her bodyguard. Already, unbeknownst to the lord's daughter, she had taken care of numerous attempts on the young griffon's life. And, unlike others, she knew that her lord believed a king would one day finally reign and the fighting would end, crimes would no longer go unpunished, and hopefully on that day, as the lord wished, his daughter could live a far more peaceful life.
As it were, that had been the original reason for her journey, until she had received a notice by way of one of the younger scouts, to investigate this forest and the alleged creature some had glimpsed inside it. Shaking her head, memories were not something she could dwell on, she could finally see her lord's castle. It was old, far older than the anarchy that plagued the land, and many of the other warlords had attempted to conquer or copy the castle. Unsurprisingly, they had all failed. No others possessed the needed power to conquer it, and architects were not valued in the current age.
Her lord did not have the man power either, to conquer his rivals. So a stalemate, and in some cases a brokered deal, had come up. So long as he did not attack them, they would not attack him. It had benefitted the territory for many years, so much so that the ramshackle houses were in a fairer condition than they were in other lands. She shook her head again, this was not the time for reminiscing.
Alighting atop a large balcony on the eastern front of the castle, she stretched her front legs much like a cat. Flying always made her legs and back feel somewhat off. It would not hinder her, but it was certainly uncomfortable. Popping her neck, she opened the door with her foreclaw and made her way down the poorly lit spiral staircase. Cracks loomed, broken rock covered the stairs, and some of the lanterns had been long since snuffed out. The dust swirled with each step she took, giving the air a somewhat clouded look. Having grown used to this, she was the only one who dared to use this tower, she trudged on as the soft clack of claw on stone echoed throughout the tower.
At the base of the tower was another door, in far better condition than one might have expected, and she pushed it open with her foreleg, revealing a clean room. At one side was a bed, made of hay with a sack stuffed with her own molted feathers, and a ragged blanket. She smiled and lifted the blanket to reveal, beneath it, an old silver necklace adorned with flowers. At the center where a pendant lay, was a deep green crystal. This was, as far as she knew, the only thing left from before her time here. Across the room was a small desk, old and beaten, but still in good enough shape to be used. The rest of the walls were covered in shelves, full of old books. All lit by a few small lanterns that hung from the wall.
Smiling, she laughed, "Honestly, and here I told myself I'd stop doing this every time I returned." Laying the necklace back down and covering it with the blanket, once white and now a musty gray, she walked to the door at the other end of the room and pushed it open. Outside was a far more poorly lit hallway, completely empty and devoid of other griffons. The door slammed shut with a considerably loud thud as she walked away from it.
Descending the stairs at the end, far better maintained than the rest of the wing, she glanced at the pictures adorning the walls. Dust and grime blotted out portions of them, but the paintings were still in good enough condition to see what they portrayed. Long lost queens and kings of eras since past, each with a different expression that showed staunch nobility. Where these pictures had come from, she did not know, but her lord had paid for each one when it had appeared. The last two showed not staunch kings and queens, but two different families. The first showed a griffon and his wife, in her hands a mere hatchling. Atop their head were thin golden crowns, each only wearing drab and cheap clothes, yet not one of them looked unhappy. The latter was a portrait of her lord, his wife, his daughter, and her. They were all smiling, as it had once been, but they could not and would not show this to anyone. Who could believe they valued each other so much?
She was still confused about the first picture, though a fair portion of the hatchling was almost destroyed by grime and dust. Her lord had told her that they were the last royal family, the hatchling was the last griffon prince. Both the king and queen had never been crowned, but those that had known had still pledged their loyalty until the day they had all been killed by one of the previous warlords. It was sad, she thought, but there was little they could do until the prince possibly returned.
Sighing, she took the last few steps and left the staircase. Beyond it, lay what they currently used as the barracks for the guards. Only a few were in the room but each gave her a salute as she entered. She nodded and pushed open the door. The original barracks had been destroyed in a fire and as she had been the only one using that wing of the castle, due to it's current state of disrepair, she had suggested using that room. As it were, she rarely left her room when she had the chance. While, like all griffons, she loved fighting, she loved the old stories she had gathered considerably more.
Each one held a story similar to what they were experiencing now, the royal family lost or in exile and a corrupt power took its place. However, unlike their story, these all held some sort of happy ending. Perhaps, she thought, miracles are only something allowed to happen in books, because reality has never been so kind. Humming lightly to herself, she entered the dining hall, which functioned as the throne room outside of meal times. At the head of the table, her adoptive father sat.
"Ah, Adelaide," her lord smiled in greeting, "How went your expedition?"
She bowed, "It went as well as expected my lord, but the second mission proved less successful."
He laughed, chortling, "Addy, you do not have to call me that, this is home for all of us."
She nodded, "Of course, Decebal."
He chortled again, "Then, do fill us in on your adventure."
She nodded, "Very well."
As Adelaide began to fill Lord Decebal Rindheart in on her excursion, in the forest to the east, the elf she had been scouting had discovered a broken and rundown ruin of a tower. It was not something that had been in the forest before this, and she was quite certain of that. The inside of the tower was crumbling, and numerous shelves had fallen to the ground, but the state of disrepair was not nearly as it was for the remains of her civilization. Reaching up, she plucked the only book that remained on the shelves still on the wall.
Flipping the pages open, as she skimmed through it, there was a single picture, old and torn, that fell from the book itself to the ground below. A griffon, his wife, and their young child in drab clothes, with simple thin golden crowns atop their heads. It was the same as the one Adelaide knew so well, but it was smaller, though still a painting. Unlike the one in the castle, this one had no dust or grime blotting out sections of the painting. Where a splot of grime was on the other, this one was clean and a necklace of silver with an emerald pendant could be plainly seen on the young hatchling's neck.
She bent down and stared at the picture curiously before picking it up and slipping it back in the book, which she slipped into a bag at her side she picked up from the floor in the tower itself, "Was I... wrong, about the griffon earlier?" She frowned and shook her head, "Likely just some human having fun with painting."