“Dead… He’s dead,” Quicksilver muttered, seeing the lifeless body before him. Gretchen was wracked with utter grief, her mouth hung open and wailing out as she hovered over the lifeless body. A rustic smell hung in the air that was bitter to the nose. The single light in this part of the room was from a small window which was slightly open and a patch of snow had accumulated on the windowsill. He moved closer to the body, taking in the sight of the general’s body, but mindful of Gretchen if she did something rash. Once close enough, he examined the wounds on the old general.
General Quill bore multiple cuts across his chest and body, most of them covered in half-made bandages. His body was bruised and beaten, with traces of chest feathers missing and out of place. A single crossbow bolt, which appeared smaller in size, was lodged deep into his temple, and traces of dried blood trickled down his head. Quicksilver looked downward and saw a single crossbow, which was smaller in size than others he had seen. It was empty of a bolt and Quicksilver wondered if he had fought to the last before finally being killed by the Nomads.
He backed away to examine the room, all the while Gretchen continued to sob uncontrollably. There was a large desk made of oak that settled in the middle back of the room. Multiple papers were scattered about the table and ground, some covered in blood. A broken chair with intricate design of gryphons embedded deep into the wood was nearby, one of its legs broken and scattered on the floor. There were also multiple candles, all of which were burned out or had little wax remaining.
“Why? This couldn’t happen,” Gretchen’s sobbed, her lower beak quivering. “You had plans, backups, ways of escape! How could you not be prepared!?” she said, her voice trembling with every word. She hovered her head over his body, and Quicksilver felt his heart ache from watching her tears flow down her cheeks. “ You wouldn’t… you wouldn’t die like this! You can’t just leave us! You promised, Uncle. You promised we will all be together!”
Quicksilver grimaced at the pain she was feeling. He watched her talons raised to her face and continued to cry into them. He lifted a hoof towards her and spoke in a soft voice.
It was a voice that she needed to hear.
“Gretchen, it’s okay,” he said, his words slow yet calm.
Gretchen turned to him, her eyes filled with despair and anger. He didn’t relent and opened his hooves to her. “It’s alright. C'mere,” he said gently, still open-hoofed to her.
Seconds ticked by in silence, Gretchen still sniffling and tears running freely down her cheeks. Then, with a heavy sob, Gretchen moved forward to wrap her talons around his body. Quicksilver closed his hooves around her, while Gretchen sobbed into his coat. She remained there for a time, giving off small hiccups every time she sniveled. He remained steadfast at her side, rubbing a hoof onto her back to try and ease her.
“You're okay, Gretchen. Let it out,” Quicksilver replied, rubbing the edge of her feathers and fur. He felt his coat getting wet from the stream of tears while she bobbed her head onto his shoulder.
“Dammit… Dammit why...” Gretchen said, slowly recomposing herself. She rubbed into his shoulder, still sobbing in between each word. “How could this happen? What Nomad would order this, and do such a thing to him?”
Quicksilver had no answer, only holding her closer and remaining in painful silence while she grieved.
After another minute of holding each other in comfort, Gretchen slowly removed herself, rubbing the tears out of her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I look quite pathetic right now,” she said, sniffling while she tried in vain to stop the flow of tears.
“You have nothing to be sorry about. We could not have known what had happened here,” he said, trying his best to reassure her. Gretchen looked back at the body of her uncle and shuddered once before lowering her head. She remained there for a moment before lowering her talons around General Quill’s body. She then pulled him into a hug, holding onto him in a tender embrace. She continued to sob, but more lightly as she held his body close to her.
There has to be a reason how he ended up dead, Quicksilver thought, looking about the room. His eyes drew to the table and the multiple papers and books dashed across its surface, along with a tall Prench wine bottle, long emptied of it’s contents. He moved forward and placed a hoof onto the table, feeling the smooth oak underneath. He then began to search through the stacks of papers, hoping to find any note from the general.
It was a long shot at best, but he had to try.
He started with most of the papers, skimming through them. He mostly found compiled notes and military stratagems that were done in the early years of the war. Though they were interesting, he had to skip past them. After searching through the last of the papers and settling them all into a shambled pile, his eyes traced over to a large book that laid closed near the table’s edge. He reached out a hoof until he grabbed the large tome, but paused when he spotted a square object sitting next to it. It appeared to be a small music box.
He had only seen a few hoofful of these music boxes, yet he never would linger on them for long before going off on duty. Seeing one up close and of Gryphon design made him all the more curious. He could see the small, intricate details within the box, the small nubs upon the drum and the keys that allowed it to play. He brought the two over and examined them both. The tome was a bit heavy but not so worse for wear, yet his attention was focused on the music box.
It was beautiful in its design, a wild field surround on all sides. When he moved the top to close it, it showed an elegant Gryphon striding across the field. It was finely set and he wondered what sort of music it played. Wanting to look into it later, his attention was brought back onto the tome in front of him.
What really caught his eye was its design on the front, showing the same Gryphon talon as the medallion. He saw a few old blood stains upon the edges of the book, but regardless it appeared in a good condition. He began to delve into what was inside.
“I never thought I’d write in any books over my lifetime, but over my long military campaign for the Gryphon Empire, I guess it’d be wise to take up my thoughts and place it in this journal,” the first lines wrote within the book. Quicksilver blinked and his breath caught in his throat.
“This is his journal,” Quicksilver said, astonished, flipping through the pages like an eager child with a new toy.
“What?” Gretchen mumbled through tears, casting her gaze slightly up him.
“This is your uncle’s journal. Maybe there is something in here that will explain what happened.”
“It won’t matter.” Gretchen said, almost bitterly. Quicksilver paused and turned to Gretchen. She still held General Quill in her arms, yet the sadness from earlier had dissipated somewhat. When he didn’t reply to her she continued on, “This crossbolt in his head. He killed himself, Fletching. Taking your own life is the most dishonorable thing among our kind. It brings disgrace to our house and among the family, being marked for years for the cowardly act,” she explained.
Quicksilver’s eyes widened, and he looked down to the body of the old general.
He took his own life? No, there must be a reason if that were to happen, he thought before shaking his head at her.
“There has to be more to it than that. All of those Nomads out there were not killed off because your uncle took his own life. There has to be a reason.” He suggested to the book and Gretchen shook her head.
“You know nothing, Fletching. You can’t understand,” she explained, lowering her head down and hovering just over her uncle’s head. Quicksilver furrowed his brow and turned back to the journal, searching through its contents. It was true he didn’t know the in-depth nature and traditions of the Gryphon society. However, he was certainly going to find out how this happened.
He delved into the journal, page after page he scanned with each blink of an eye. He would pause at times to read a quick entry or two about his life. They dated by many years, possibly close to the beginning of the war or even further, but there was one thing that was important. Quicksilver was sitting on a treasure trove of knowledge, reading the words that the late general had written. He spoke of days that he served in the armed forces, about his victories and small defeats. One in particular was the Battle of Silver Road, which he wished he would have to read at a later date. There were also happy entries that he had to skim over and would need to make a mental note in reading them.
There had to be some great moments in his life that he must have cherished.
There was not only the battles he fought and discussed, but he mentioned the comparisons between Equestria and their culture. There were similarities when it came to their different tribes between Equines and Gryphons. There was also how the ruled by a leader, the only difference being that Princess Celestia and Princess Luna were shared monarchs, while the Gryphons were lead by an emperor or king. Ever since King Solaris and his wife Queen Selena, they had remained a dutiful part of Equestria that made them into a monarchy from their tribal past and united Equestria into one nation. He even read here and there about the Gryphon culture within the book, and Quicksilver took a small gander at how the first born son of any Gryphon household must be of age when called upon by the Gryphon Empire in service.
He wondered how Franz Stormcloud- No, General Quill’s son, would have thought when his father did not wish for him to serve.
Eventually, Quicksilver would push past the older entries and continue to read within.
“C,mon, there has got to be something in here,” he muttered, flipping page after page of older entries into something that was new, if not recent.
He stopped when he noticed the ink within didn’t look as faded as the other entries. He looked back to the previous pages and to where his hoof was placed, and found that the ink was new. He looked at the date of the entry and found that it was roughly a month old.
Almost as long as he has been a prisoner.
Taking a steady breath, he began reading the entry within.
Entry Number 495
Early Winter, Year 766 Gregor Calendar
“It has been many moons since I last wrote in this old book. Reading back on my old works has caused me to reflect at times. How my life has gone from one battle to another. More figuratively then one may imagine. Through turbulent at times my life has been, I find a small measure of peace then when I think of my family. Though they may be far away, I know that they live in my heart at all times.
My only niece and nephew are safe in the fort in High Talon Pass, protected and far from the flung reaches of the warfront. Prancy has been breached and from what I have learned the defenders are trying to hold out on the outer ramparts. No doubt they would be dragging this out, fighting house to house in a desperate attempt to hold the city. I’ve made the order to make the full retreat from Prancy and petitioned our ‘Sovereign Lord’ Bronzeclaw to order a retreat and save many of the young sons of our nation. I had hoped that he will see reason.”
The entry stopped and Quicksilver turned to the next. Gretchen remained silent while he continued to read.
“The plan fell through. My plea for the retreat fell on deaf ears to the ignorant king. More of his ardent advisors, most of them made up of Nomad councillors, had rejected my pleas. I had no choice but to act on my own accord. I went to speak with the Magistrates and Noble Houses to tell of what has befallen Prancy. I have sent a letter to the leader of the army within Prancy to begin the retreat, in hopes in saving our sons from a deadly fate.
I doubt my letter will get through, but I hope that by some chance they will respect the order and head home.
Quicksilver sat on his haunches as he became immersed in the book. He began to ponder what instigated the fight within the Gryphonstone. He let his mind wander while he continued to read through the next entry.
Entry Number 496
Mid Winter, Year 766, A few weeks after the letter was sent,
“My worst fears have come to fruition. I’ve been given no reply from Prancy, and I will be forced to move my troops to the front lines. I would not sacrifice my troops for a lost cause, and I outright refused to commit my troops to a losing battle. Bronzeclaw was furious beyond any reason. He slandered me of betraying the Empire and that I would be abandoning the cause and all of the young Gryphons within the city. It already has become a forsaken place, and our young sons were dying in droves for a lost cause. I told him as such and that we must bring our sons home or the next generation will be lost and far fewer.
By Gregor I’ve never seen him angrier before. He broke a table and chairs in outburst, and I could see the veins on his face would bulge from every utterance. He lashed at me, cursed my name, and continued to shout at me like a blashmere for his grand crusade. His pride of a grand king was taking its toll, and the madness to win at all costs would drive others away from him. He dismissed me out of the hall, and I left with my Storm Claw Brigade.
However, there was one curse that he uttered that gave me pause and dread. He shouted out my name, the words echoing inside those halls to forever be branded upon my back like a scar. He yelled to me that he hopes that my son, who still was in Prancy, will suffer a traitor's fate before my time would come. I shot him a glare that, in my mind, wanted nothing more then to challenge him and be rid of his evil.
There was no doubt in my mind there will be repercussions for standing up against his rein and I had no choice but to walk away from him. The life of my son and the soldiers under me were far too important than the king’s ambitions.”
Quicksilver paused from his reading. He was curious as to the implications of what King Bronzeclaw might have done if he was challenged by General Quill, what kind of outcome if the king was taken out and what turn would have come for the entire war. He had to leave such ponderings aside and continued to read the next entry within.
There was a small earmark detailing the travel between the flight of Gryphonstone and arriving in the mountains. There was an emphasis in detailing the landscape and how they traversed the land. As much as he wanted to continue, it didn’t provide much detail that he wanted to hear.
He finished reading the entry and began reading the next one aloud.
Entry Number 498
Mid Winter, Year 767, Few weeks after leaving Gryphonstone,
I arrived at the fort with impeccable timing. I was greeted warmly today by both my niece and nephew. Gretchen was asking me many questions about my life in Gryphonstone and Ebon was relieved to see me safe and sound. I couldn't have asked for better family then those who care for me and for others. I would have to tell them later about what is truly happening back in Gryphonstone, but I would have to tell them later.
I have to pause, I have a guest coming in.
I was pleasantly surprised to meet an Equine in our midst today. The youth’s name was Quicksilver and was quite different than most other Equines I’ve met. When we first spoke he was very enthusiastic, knowing me by my deeds and actions that have been performed in my life. It doesn't take me by surprise that the youngling was so knowledgeable of my previous endeavors. I sometimes lectured my kindred on the importance of our past, and yet a Pegasus knew more about me then some unenlightened Fletchlings. It’s almost laughable to me now that I never taught more Gryphons about our past and our cultures, to be carried on after my time has come.
History is sacred and neglected thing indeed. The greatest tales ever told in our day age, while future generations forget their forefathers and the importance they have upon their lives.
Quicksilver, the Equine named, told much of his painful past. He has shared his tender experience that he endured during the whole war. It brought him up and consumed most of his life without pausing to give any respite or peace. It reminded much of my niece and nephew and their upbringing.
Especially Gretchen.
I will write more on this another time. My family wants to know of my trip from Gryphonstone.
Quicksilver paused and looked over to Gretchen, who looked a little surprised at what he had read. Gretchen looked away as if ashamed. Quicksilver wondered what she had endured in her past. The words from Saint Gregor filled his head, of Gretchen having a similar experience and heartache.
He dreaded to know what else she had to go through.
He turned the next page and began reading the next entry.
Entry Number 499
Mid Winter, 767, the day of mourning…
“The garrison…. was heartbroken.
Many of our kin that went on the hunt have come back maimed and barely alive, some of our fallen riddled with scars and deep wounds. The survivors described the attack as a brutal offensive, ambushed from all sides by charging and wailing creatures. They gored them with their sharp horns and attacked with reckless abandon. I fear some of the younger Gryphons are scarred for the remainder of their days for seeing such brutality.
I fear the warbands that they have mentioned must be dealt with or they will continue to raid the lands of both our nations.
Ebon was excellent in handling the situation. He was calm throughout the storm of chaos that surrounded us. While I dealt with my share of aid to the survivors, I saw him among his fellow brethren. He kept balance and a strong determination that lead to keeping every Gryphon organized and managing to get the situation under control. I looked on, with pride, that such a young blood as him has turned into a fine leader.
His father would be proud of such talents and strengths.
Gretchen was among the Gryphons tending to the wounded, Gregor bless her. She was quite angry with me when I explained to her about what has befallen the people of Gryphonstone and how the Nobles and Magistrates have been defying against King Bronzeclaw’s rule, almost on the cusp of rebellion. She was vehemently against me when I suggested that conflict between the ruling houses and Bronzeclaw could be unavoidable. She left bitterly upset over the revelation and that our people’s pride is what is tearing our society apart.
I can’t blame her for her emotional state. I too wish for this bitter war to end peacefully.
When I saw that she was out there amongst the wounded and dying, her graceful touch and soothing words helped many in their hour of need. She reminded me of her mother and how she too put other lives first before her own. I loved that about her and how it shows in her daughter when she is helping others.
Oh Freya, I miss you. You don’t know how much your children have grown.
I have to end this short. My guards have need of me.
Quicksilver paused, blinking a few times and trying to get his bearings.
He mentioned the name Freya and that pique his interest. Was she important to both Gretchen and Ebon? The amount of details from the journal was staggering, and he wondered what other details lied within.
He turned his attention to Gretchen, wondering if she had anything to say over what he had read.
Gretchen was silent, still holding the lifeless body of the General. Her eyes were open and a few tears were present, but not freely flowing from before. She was most likely lost in thought over what he had read. He didn’t raise any question to her, and instead continued to read the book, even as the many minutes ticked by from each paragraph he transcribed.
Entry Number 501
Mid Winter… Several days after the massacre…
“Everything's happening so fast that I dare say it feels like a fevered dream.
I was in the middle of a intriguing conversation with Quicksilver when a messenger came from one of my subordinates. King Bronzeclaw has summoned the army and we have all made our way out here on the edges of the High Talons Mountains. The dishonorable cunt, gathering us all for some grand crusade in reclaiming Prancy. With an army filled with youngbloods, many barely out of training, with many more having not even finished.
What has our world come to? When we send our young sons to fight for corrupt king.
As I write about my dealings in the King’s Army, I wonder what has befallen my niece at the encampment. I left Felix to watch over her, but I know that Sharp Beak was in command of the garrison. I worry for her safety and that she will be taken advantage of. But I am certain, with a humble heart, that she will be in capable talons. Along with a certain Equine.
I kept thinking back to our conversation with Quicksilver. He was certainly curious if not inquisitive about my people’s customs. I find it fitting to advise him about what makes us unified and whole. The Strength of Heart, The Strength of Body, and The Strength of Mind. This saying is what makes us stand unified against any threat. To put oneself above all others. This is what I told him, and I hope to give him a view into a culture and why our society exists the way it does.
I had hoped to delve much further into our customs and explain more about of what makes us act like true Gryphon’s. However, I am stuck here in this encampment, with a mad king ready to march to Prancy.
There are others who see my view, and I have convinced them to try and persuade the king to reconsider his senseless campaign. There are parts I do not wish to transcribe over what he has already done, but I will, at the very least, transcribe this. I now fear more for the youth in this army and that of my Brigade.
Much sacrifice will be made when myself and my supporters confront the King.
Quicksilver blinked and took a moment to rub his eyes, clearing the dust that were stuck in his ducts. He looked upon the next set of entries and silently read the next details on his own. He found them detailing the King's reaction. Quicksilver recalled the very vivid details that he gave to him when they had met the second time. The King ordering every tenth Gryphon under each of the officers to be killed, and the Razor Claw Brigade’s sacrifice in appeasing the King. General Quill even mentioned the names of the twenty soldiers that were brutally murdered to keep everyone in line.
The amount of struggle, the amount of pain... Quicksilver could not help but feel sorry for the General. He knew from what he had heard from his own mouth. But now? Reading in vivid detail of every suffering Gryphon, there was no amount of console or comfort that would have ease such a troubled heart.
King Bronzeclaw was truly a savage monster.
“Why did you stop reading?” Gretchen spoke next to him and he flinched from her words. He turned and found that she was standing by his side, looking over the book with him. He blinked once before taking a calm breath.
“Sorry, I was lost in thought,” he replied. Gretchen nodded, her expression still downcast while she looked into the book.
“Can you continue, please?” she asked softly, her eyes lingering upon the book. Quicksilver nodded, his own curiosity wanting to find out the truth of the General's demise. He turned to the book and flipped the page, reading the next entry within. Quicksilver noticed the next page had many wrinkled spots.
Entry Number 502
Mid Winter… My return…
“I have no words. I have no words to describe my loss. My pain, my heart ever breaking.
My son… my Red Tails, my little Franz… is dead.
I had arrived with what remains of my Razor Claw Brigade and those who had followed me willingly away from the Mad King's quest. It was where I saw Sharp Beak having beaten Quicksilver within a inch of his life. The minotaur leader, from what I was told, had put a stop to Sharp Beak‘s assault. It was then after that when Quicksilver had began spouting off names of all the Gryphons that Sharp Beak has put down. When they mentioned Franz, when they mentioned my boy, I had nearly frozen on the spot. I had to force myself not to lunge at that murdering cutthroat and tear his throat out. I ordered him to be arrested along with any supporters.
After the crowds had dispersed, I went to the still form of Quicksilver, being carried lifelessly in the minotaur’s arms. There was so much I wanted to say to him, so many questions that plagued my mind the moment his name was uttered. However, he needed much medical attention, for his wings were dangerously prostrate and the bleeding from his wounds needed tending to.
Gregor bless him for making it this long.
Felix, despite his own grievous wounds, made it his duty to heal Quicksilver. He informed me he had not been able to eat much at all the week I was gone and that he had spent six hours, beating the record mind you, holding up the block of wood over his wings. He had endured so much, took all punishment cast on him, and he still stood his ground. He even came to Gretchen’s aid when she was being punished for tending to him.
I can’t stop crying… I held it in for so long since I arrived, then once I was finally alone I wept as a newborn babe in my tent. I was not there for my own kin, and Quicksilver's kindness and charity was far more than what we have given him. Even when he didn’t know he had revealed that my son has been murdered and that I will know of his fate. My heart burns in hatred for his murderer, but now I’m filled with such sorrow. I somehow feel responsible for Quicksilver and for what has been given unto him. Protecting the family is far more important in any conflict, and that is something I have failed to do.
I should have been there, not distracted by the King’s mad plan, when my own family was being tormented and threatened. Ebon, Deadeye, Gretchen…. They are all the family that I have left. If I lost them now, I know not what I would do.
I can’t write anymore this night. If I do, this paper will be ineligible from my tears.
Gretchen sniveled somewhat, and Quicksilver turned to see her wiping her arm across her face, brushing away the fresh tears that had gathered. Quicksilver had no idea how much he had done for General Quill and his family. A feeling of guilt rushed inside him from reading the last few verses, and it weighed down over his heart. He can only imagine what the General’s last moments were. What he could be thinking, what caused him to be driven to suicide.
He looked into the next entry and found only the entry number. No words were written within, only stained and wrinkled paper.
He could only guess that he couldn’t write any more.
Sucking up his nerves, he delved further into the book. Seeing how few pages there were, he was nearing the end.
Entry Number 504
Mid Winter, the Night after the Coup…
I was taken aback by the deviousness of Sharp Beak and his ilk. While most of us were asleep, he had somehow managed to escape with his fellow Nomads and attempted to silence all those who followed me. Many of the captains who came with me have been deemed traitors and were executed without mercy, along with even the few Nomads who saw reason.
A coward’s way to the very end, and I curse him for what he has done.
I was held for a number of hours within the newly built barracks and had to wait out the ongoing coup. However, I could hear the fighting take place outside and the arrival of my brigade was able to turn the tide. Sensing the danger, the other, younger Nomads were conflicted in what they should do. I threw my voice of reason and convinced them to surrender their arms and to go out and explain that they were brought into this by their superiors. One of the elder Nomads scoffed at my suggestion and even threatened to kill me then and there. I calmly stated that he was making a mistake, and that he was going to die if he pointed his sword at me. Though he didn't know it, I had chipped away at the ropes around my wrists.
The Nomad scoffed at my claim and he indeed shoved his sword at me. I was quicker when he failed to check on my bindings. I rose and gave a firm kick into his midsection, forcing him to double over. His sword arm slipped out of his grasp and I grabbed the blade before it could hit the ground. Before the oaf could see what happened, I drove the sword down on top of his skull, the blade going several inches deep before I removed it and decapitated him moments later.
I could still see the looks on the youth’s faces at what I was able to do, the lifeless form of the elder Nomad dropping to the floor while I still stood. They must have imagined that I was secretly some grand warrior from a bygone age. Though it would be to the amount of tedious training that I had received throughout my life. I could have humored them and said something grand to them. However, I dropped the sword in front of them and once again asked them to surrender peacefully.
They were smart lads. They took the offer without a second thought.
After securing the outpost and the coup dealt with, we had to survey the damage. Five of the officers out of the twenty were still alive. Over two hundred Gryphons had been killed, the majority being the Nomads that were stationed here. To make matters worse was that Sharp Beak had escaped with his cohort of soldiers that numbeered over a hundred or more. They could be anywhere at this point, and I fear they will make an attempt on my life or that of my family.
Another matter that unsettled my nephew was that Gretchen was spirited away by Quicksilver.
I could see the frustration and anger spilling from him. He wanted her back, to be safe. Deadeye and Captain Buck Wing tried to convince that he was not responsible for such a thing, yet he was not deterred. I was not convinced, that Quicksilver was responsible for what he has done; rather the opposite, in fact. I allayed his fears and reminded him why blind hatred was leading him, and he quickly headed my call.
Sometimes a calming voice can soothe a raging storm.
He still worried over Gretchen, hoping that she was somehow okay. I explained to him that she will be in the good hooves of Quicksilver. He was hardly appeased by my answer, but in these times, it was hard to accept such facts. Quicksilver, I believed, was not the kind of Equine to do her harm.
After discussing our plans and saying my farewells to my nephew, I said that I would pay a visit to our ‘dear’ King. However, I was stopped by Felix, who had the most urgent matter to commune with me. At first I believed it had to do with the King or the renegade Nomads. instead, I was befuddled by what he had mentioned. Sharp Beak had tried to make a claim on Gretchen and he almost succeeded were it not for Quicksilver’s intervention.
Yet, that’s just it. Quicksilver, the Equine, doesn't understand what he had done. That simple rule of engagement between those two.
It’s almost laughable. If he knew what he had done, he would probably be regretting it. A Gryphon custom going back centuries, since the founding of the three tribes. Sharp Beak was doing just what he wanted in every traditional Gryphon custom. Quicksilver had cut in the way he did and taking her away, the same as our custom. If he lets her go, then this whole matter will be for naught and that will be the end of it. But if she doesn't return…
Well, at least I wouldn’t be kindred to that scum, not in my lifetime.
I have to say my farewells soon. I will have many miles ahead of me. I will travel alone to meet with the King. No doubt my guards will be displeased by this action, but their services are needed here with Ebon. I’d rather hate for them to suffer any fate that has befallen my comrades.
Maybe it wouldn't’ hurt to visit my old cabin.
What is this gryphon custom that they keep telling about? he thought, scratching the back of his head with his hoof, being perplexed at the last part of the paragraph. There was mention of a custom, one that he didn’t know about, and it bothered him to no end. Engagement? Kindred? Was he meaning they shared some view or opinion that he thought highly of? But what did it mean for Gretchen? Felix was vehemently speaking of such things before he had left, and Quicksilver couldn’t make much sense as to what he was implying.
“Gretchen? Do you know what he was talking about?” Quicksilver asked, turning to meet her. He became dumbfounded by the way that she looked. Gretchen was still, her normal white plumage of her cheeks burning a bright red. Her stoic eyes were wide, and she almost appeared shaken.
“Gretchen? Are you alright?” he asked, his face showing much concern and confusion. She turned to him as if startled, then quickly turned her head away from him.
“It’s not important! Just read the next entry!” she said rather loudly, her feathers flustered out. He blinked in surprise by her demeanor, but decided to move on.
He didn’t want to understand what Gryphon custom they were referring to. He believed it would be nothing but a pain to understand.
Quicksilver turned the next page, looking into the next entry. However, he found no entry mark on the next words. He grumbled to himself and cast his eyes upon it, flipping the next few pages to find the end of the book. He took a deep breath and observed the last pages. There were some spots that were wrinkled and others covered in some dry blood stains.
“This is it… that last entry,” he muttered, placing a hoof across the page. Gretchen etched closer to him, her earlier apprehension replaced with fear and anxiety. Everything that happened up to this point would finally be revealed.
The last moments of General Falke Dugalle Quill.
Taking a steady breath, Quicksilver read aloud the final entry of the venerable general.
I made a grave mistake.
A slight miscalculation was made… one that has cost me dearly.
Time is against me now… I have to make the most of it.
I’ve bandaged as best I could to slow this wound, but I’m only buying time.
Never believed my final moments would be here.
I arrived at my Cabin mid-afternoon, the old home having been neglected for a number of years now. I wanted to come here because of the old memories that it brought, how our family came to spend our summers here and to enjoy it’s serene peace. I only arrived a mere two hours ago, yet by the time I was here there was already company waiting for me.
The corpulent bastard, Black Talon, was awaiting for me, along with a dozen of his own mad Nomads. He welcomed me with open arms, congratulating me for my arrival and my untimely demise.
I arrived tired and weary from my flight, and they had planned on ending me then and there. Despite that, I was not going down without a proper fight. I drew forth my sword and readied to make my stand upon the mountainside. The Nomads laughed as they surrounded me, saying it was the funniest thing they ever witnessed: a decrepit Gryphon who would stand up to strong and vibrant Nomads. I told them that I would cut through them as a carving of a cake. Their hubris grew ever more, not believing a word I said. I believe I heard one of them call out that there were more than I could handle. I thought it fitting for a fool’s epitaph.
The poor bastards. They did not know what was coming to them.
I lifted my sword weakly, but it was mostly a feint. The first of the Nomads came near me, attempting to render me with his broadsword. I sidestepped his attack and brought my blade in an upward arc. I lacerated his sword arm, the flying appendage landing a few feet away before the stunned crowd. He didn’t even realize that his arm was missing before I turned around and lunged my sword into his back. He let out a harrowing scream before collapsing in the snow. Before the others could react, I was already slashing my blade across the throat of another victim, killing him instantaneously.
Others joined in the battle, and it was fierce and bloody. Within a minute I had already cleared four Nomads onto the field, cutting their bodies and gutting their limbs. I had parried their blows, and countered their strikes, each one made with precision and grace. Though my burst of energy gave the advantage, I was slowing down, and my weary body was already draining me, even after I decapitated my fifth opponent and lobbed off the legs of the sixth. Black Talon hung back, watching the battle ensue, waiting for a perfect time to strike, yet he never came.
Cowardly bastard, he is.
They surrounded me and kept their distance, and tried to parry blows, but I knew I was in a dire situation. I was exhausted and outnumbered, and they would claim me soon enough before I could finish the rest of them.
My only option was solace within my own cabin.
I made a run for it. All haste made towards my own home. As much I didn’t want it to be harmed, I was left with no other option. I broke through my own door and quickly shut behind it. I would be trapped, but at least I could deal them in fewer numbers. An older Nomad lunged himself through the window with reckless abandon, determination plastered on his fanatic face. He lunged his weapon at me, and I quickly grappled with him. We tussled within the living room for a brief moment before I forced him to hit the wooden frame of the home and sent him back at the window. He landed right on top of the broken glass of the window frame, pieces of glass was visible in his neck and chest. His companion hopped on through and clambered over his dying friend, with complete disregard that his very life was choking right before his eyes.
I shoved him back from where he came, his body tumbling back out the window frame, while the next Nomad flew through the window and was ready for me. I fought and defended against my next assailant in the living room. The older Nomad was slower yet he was experienced. I know the clock is ticking on my life, but I couldn't help but admire his patience and tenacity. He was as equally skilled as I was, yet slower than the other attackers.We dueled in the living room, breaking several pieces of ancestral furniture in the process.
The Nomad and I dueled for another thirty seconds within the room before I parried his blade upward and attacked him by spinning my blade across his abdomen. For a moment in time we stared at each other, seeing how the outcome would have been if he was in my position. I saw no malice in his eyes, only a smile of an old warrior who has been defeated and humbled. In a brief thought, I would have considered him a brother in arms. One who would not wanted this fight between us.
It all shattered when a blade was plunged through his back and he was tossed to the ground like refuse. The younger, more aggressive Nomad was indiscriminate when attacking his target. He charged me and rushed me towards the kitchen, knocking over furniture and breaking dishes as our bout ensued. He placed his talons on my neck in an effort to choke me. He nearly succeeded before I grabbed one of the nearby dishes on the kitchen table and smacked it across his face. He fell to the ground clutching at his eyes, yet I did not relent. The broken chair before me made good use for bludgeoning his head until he no longer moved.
By the time I was done they’d already broken down the door, the four Nomads looking fresh and ready to fight.
I took my sword and rushed down the hallway towards the stairs, in some hopes that it will be narrow enough for me to deal with them one by one. It managed to work to my favor and it forced them to come at me slowly up the stairs. I parried each attack that was thrown at me, and I dueled the next incoming attacker. I managed to slip the next Nomad’s blade back into him, and he tumbled down the stairs in a heap. Despite my victories, however, I was nearing the point of exhaustion. Yet, I still kept going, still fighting with my life on the line. After another painful minute of fighting up the stairs, I found the nearest bedroom to defend in.
There were four remaining, four more to defeat.
I waited for them. Waiting to face them in the most glorious death I could imagine. Yet they didn’t come. I waited for what felt like hours, my heart ramming hard in my chest. I could hear them shuffle on the other side and their bloodcurdling breaths, seeking vengeance for the blood of their fallen kin.
Then an axe broke through the wall on my left, splinters being scattered everywhere. The Nomad kept hacking away, a blood lust consuming him as he attacked through the wall. The door in front of me burst open; another Nomad, another life thrusted upon me. I managed to force him in while slamming the door behind, pushing one of the desks in the way to block the door. I even managed to relieve Black Talon of his crossbow by slamming the door on his talons. I could hear him shrill in pain. I fought hard against the Nomad inside the room, and I used my sword, beak and talons to fight him off.
Time was against me. Shunting of the door, the hacking of the wall. I didn’t know how long I would last in these conditions. I managed to subdue and kill my opponent, his body splayed across the bed with gashes and cuts, but I do had my fair share of wounds, some of which encumbered my movement. The Nomad breaking down my wall had broken through, his axe ready to swing at me. Remembering the crossbow, I lunged for the weapon and immediately unloaded the bolt straight into his head. He fell within moments and I was left there, exhaustion overcoming me.
I sat in that room awaiting for my death to come. I had lived a long and hard life, and yet nothing could come of what I was going to face. My own demise, my own destruction. If I was not so eager in leaving my guards behind, the outcome would have been different. Instead, in my hubris, I ended up here, and will no doubt die by the talons of mad Gryphons.
When the door finally broke through, Black Talon was there, gloating in some satisfaction that my death would bring to him. His remaining guard, who looked rather young for his age, stood idle, petrified of me and what I had done. He fully expected that I would rise up and run him down like his companions. I couldn’t do such a thing, my body was already drained. Black Talon looked at me and he mocked me at my pitiful state.
“How pitiful!” he said. “The great and encumbered General has been brought down to his knees.”
I remained silent, watching him gloat in his supposed victory. He took a step forward, but not enough for me to lunge my weapon into his gutless hide. Even if I could do such a thing, I could no longer fake my own exhaustion. He watched me with careful calculating eyes, holding onto his bruised talons from when I slammed them into the door. I waited for any further insult, another spiteful rhetoric that he would give onto me. Instead, he kept his hateful glare upon me.
“I envy you,” he said to me. “I really do.”
I asked him ‘Why?’ He merely smiled, happily chuckling to himself while wiping away some imaginary food that was stuck on his jowls. He sneered at me and lowered until he and I stared each other at the same level.
“Your death will be so fleeting. The great General, dying in some foreign land while the Gryphon empire continues on.”
I outright ignored him and looked away. He and like minded Nomads were all mad for their divine sense of being the strongest race in the land. However, his next words chilled me to the very core, ones that will haunt me for my remaining hours.
“We hoped you stayed alive long enough for us to retake Prancy and destroy your petty resistance back at the capital.”
Those words, they still haunt me even now.
I looked to him and kept my gaze on him like a hawk. Black Talon merely chuckled from my expression, and he explained to me what has happened in Gryphonstone.
“You don’t know?” he said in a mocking tone. “Your Magistrates and the Nobles that have turned their backs on the true King and have seized the castle, declaring it to be free of our control. This ‘insurrection’ will not sit idle with the King. He will no doubt finish claiming that festering backwater of a city and go back to reclaim his rightful if not ancestral home!”
I was beyond shock, if not elated by the news. The Magistrates, the Governors, all those that had defected and hated King Bronzeclaw have now begun their coup. After all these years of war, I should have been happy. To imagine that the Noble Houses and Magistrates would broker a peace with Equestria and end this long bloody war that has cost both sides far too many lives. To drink and partake the cup of peace that has slipped through our grasp for far too long, due to hawkish leaders and warmongers.
It’s a dream I wished to have seen with my own eyes.
“It’s too bad we have to let you die here,” he continued. “Though pathetic it may be, it is the King’s will that you must be silenced.” He snapped his talons and directed his final minion forward. The young Gryphon was unsettled as he approached me. The youth was not keen on getting too close, and I could see him shake from the amount of pressure put on him. I looked up into his eyes, and there was fear present within them. A part of me wished he wasn't here and another wished he not be the one to do the deed. Yet, as he drew his blade upward, the blade shaking in his talons, I could see he didn’t want to this. Something was holding him back and I could only guess as to one thing.
He didn’t want to kill me.
“You bloody idiot, just do it already!” Black Talon shouted at the young blood. The young Gryphon wouldn’t move, let alone finish me. Black Talon was impatient and he struck the youth down while seizing his weapon.
“I’ll do it myself!” He said, taking the blade and swiping at me.
I only felt a slight cut onto my left arm.
I looked to Black Talon and he swung the blade and lashed it out onto the younger Gryphon. I watched as he repeatedly sliced at him and indiscreetly hacking at his body. In rage and indescribable anger, he attacked him without mercy. The youth pleaded and screamed, being torn asunder by Black Talon’s relentless assault. The young blood collapsed, barely alive by his savagery. When he finally stopped, Black Talon looked down at me with such hatred and envy, the kind that shows his pride was at stake. He smiled viciously.
“This was meant to be a simple task,” he said, wiping the blood off the youngblood’s body, the latter whimpering in utmost pain. Black Talon lowered himself, dropping the blade and looking at me with a calculating gaze. “At least with the poison running through your veins you will die a slow and painful death.”
My heart froze. I looked down to my fresh wound and I saw a notable difference compared to my other wounds. There was a green substance that was spilling from the cut, and as I pressed my talon there I could feel my veins bulging from within. Black Talon laughed at my predicament, watching me struggle with the fact that I was poisoned and my life was slowly draining away.
“That’s venom from the cave snakes in our mountain range,” Black Talon said. “Quite deadly without a proper antidote. Though, not my sort of style,” he explained, chuckling to himself to his victory. “Your face shows such anguish, such defeat, for the old fool you are. The poison will course through your body, causing you to spasm out and feel nauseated. Pain will consume you and your heart will speed up, pushing the envenomed blood in your body to the brink of death, until everything shuts down and you will be silent as the grave. However, your death will be nothing compared to what we will do to the rest of your family.”
It was in my moment of demise that I looked up to him with that sinister yet malicious smile. It still haunts me now, that damned Gryphon’s face.
“You didn’t know? Maybe I’ll elevate your blood a little if I indulge you,” he continued mockingly, backing up so that he stood tall over me. “Your family has been branded traitors to the state, for ordering the purging and total destruction of the City of Prancy.”
My eyes widened and I felt my heart had skipped a beat.
“It’s all fake of course,” he explained to me. “But we managed to make near-perfect duplicates of your own writing that whoever shall read it will know it was from you. Once we’re done with Prancy, we’ll come back for you and present them your head, and that of your nephew. Your 'Beloved' niece might be spared, once my leader has found her alive at least, but her fate will be very tragic indeed.” He opened his wings and gestured out like the flaunt cretin that he is.
“She will be nothing but a courtesan. Her wings will be clipped, her talons declawed, and her body ravaged. She will bear his young and that is all that she will ever be to my leader. Nothing but a degenerate and lowborn Noble, that will no longer take to the skies and be viewed as second rate filth!” he boasted and laughed, enjoying in his mirth while looking down on me.
He then smiled and turned his attention to his remaining guard, the youth who was already looking on death’s door. He seized him by the neck and the youth gasped out for air. He then began dragging the poor youth out of the room, but not before stopping to say his final spiteful words towards me.
“It’s been a pleasure working with you. Now be an old bastard and die. It would be most convenient that you died peacefully in your sleep.” he uttered, half mocking and half jostling in laughter while he dragged the youth outside, the latter struggling in his grip. It was soon after that I heard the youth’s body dragged down the stairs and towards the door, and it was only then that I could no longer hear them that I soon found myself alone.
But all I felt in my heart was rage.
My family, my kin. They would be sacrificed as pawns to fulfill their twisted schemes. To be framed for a crime that we did not commit. That is abhorrent and treacherous, even for Black Talon and his minions.
Or even Sharp Beak for that matter.
I wasn’t sure if the coup in Gryphonstone was successful, or if the King would have realized this and demanded my head to break their spirits. Whatever the case may be, the king framing me over the destruction of Prancy was not my doing, nor will it ever be. I knew I commanded the forces, but it was I who gave them direct orders to either surrender their arms or to give up the city entirely. I would never commit mass genocide against innocents, and if I was given that order to do so I would outright refused.
After being left alone for what felt like hours, I finally crawled to the study, taking my sword and armor off and leaving them to the side. I could still feel the poison running through me, but I believed I had mere hours or more before the venom would render my body and my life be taken away. I had taken up my old journal and writing my last experiences that I had witnessed. I know it seemed ridiculous, my last moments writing, but I felt it was right.
Black Talon was long gone, and I could only hear the chill wind outside my cabin and a deep pity for the young blood claimed by his claws. I now write in this book the last few words before my final hours come.
To those who find this, or those who happen to read this journal of mine, know that I am innocent of all charges placed against me or my kin. Whatever foul trickery or falsification that was placed on my name and kin, it is nothing but lies and deceit. If there was any form of personal messages or any orders given by me, there would be a personal sigil that would be stamped onto the end of the document, my medallion, which will render any counterfeit to be useless.
This will prove my innocence and of any wrongdoing that has befallen me or my kin.
Now that I think of it…. I feel at a loss of what I should say next. There is so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted them to see. Maybe if I spend more time with them, if I could teach them more of our family’s history, and how important it is to us all. I’ve spent so long in the field of battle that I have neglected to be with them more. I’m certain they will see this war over before me.
I wish I could be with them now.
I can still feel the poison in me, it burns throughout my body. I don’t have much time in this world. I’ve lived a proud life, one that has made me feel both humble and ashamed. Even now, at the very end, I still feel myself stirring to take up arms and chase after them. My pride would have claimed me if I took its charge and grant them the satisfaction of my death. But I will not let my enemies have this victory, even when my body rage’s to give chase.
I would take my own life before this night is done.
Before I do deny them this, there is but one more task I must fulfill. One that I have truly neglected to do.
I’ll be finishing my old Prench wine that I wanted to drink for so long. I do hope that my last deed will be worth it.
Worth it to her.
My Amore.
Admittedly, I’m glad that I’ll be dying in my home. I always wished to be buried where I may overlook the mountains below. They were always….a beautiful sight to behold.
This is the last entry, of General Falke Dugalle Quill.
And my son, my precious Red Tails,
Your father will be with you soon.
Quicksilver blinked after reading off the last few lines. He shuddered for a moment, wondering how long he had been standing there and reading the book. He scanned the last few words of the entry, and could see that it was covered in dry blood and crinkled tears. He wondered what the old General meant by who Amore was. He looked about the table, wondering what he had missed.
“That can’t be it,” he muttered, closing the journal and settling onto the table. His eyes scanned the table, seeing the the same scattered old papers and books, along with a box that held the shape of the small crossbow with five bolts on the side. One of them was missing from its spot. He noticed Gretchen pick up the small music box. She had been awfully quiet during the time he was reading the journal and she never said a word. She had a solemn expression, but it was laced with sadness and grief. Without a word, she grabbed her uncle’s fallen sword and walked out of the room with the music box in her talons.
“Gretchen?” he called out. She gave no reply, only pushing the door open and walking down the hall. He heard a door open and close in the hallway and silence soon remained. He turned his attention back to the tome and then to the still form of General Quill.
“What do you mean by task? What were you trying to do?” he said, bending down to inspect the wounds on the old General’s body. The wounds were dry and his body appeared bruised in several places. He looked at the General’s face, seeing his eyes closed in what looked to be a peaceful slumber.
He kept his eyes on him a moment longer and went to stand. However, he noticed a fallen quill pen on the ground, with some ink splattered on the floor. He guessed it had fallen on the ground the moment General Quill took his life. He picked it up, inspecting the small details of the feather.
He then looked around him at all the papers that remained scattered on the floor. They only spoke of old documents and transcripts, and he placed them on top of the table.
He only stopped when he spotted a piece that was hidden underneath the table.
He reached out, plucking the paper from the confines under the table, and bringing it up to the light. He examined the page and instantly saw the blood stains that were on the corner’s edge. Like the the ends of the journal, it was also curled and deformed, likely getting wet from the blood and tears. His eyes traced down to the bottom of the paper, and his eyes widened that there was a small medallion shape insignia on the parchment.
This has to be it! Quicksilver thought, and reading the first line of the paper.
It read, “Dearest Athena” upon the first words.
He paused his reading and looked towards the door, where Gretchen had left. He heard a strange bell-like sound, emanating from the other room. It was slow at first, the small individual studs striking on tiny keys. The music sounded sad, the different chords slow to every strike it made. He waited there for a minute, hearing the small music finish. He looked back down to the paper and read the first line again.
She had to read this with him. She had to know there was one more thing he had left behind. And with that, Quicksilver stood up and with parchment in hoof went back down the hallway.
He didn’t have to go far when the door on his left was opened slightly. He slowed down and cleared his throat to speak up to her.
“Gretchen. I found something else. I think you may want to hear it.” he said. He waited for a reply, yet she didn’t raise her voice to him, nor even reply.
She was completely silent.
“Gretchen?” he asked once more. An uncertainty gripping his heart, he pushed the door open to see her. He found her curled up on a bed in the middle of the room. He breathed a sigh of relief, his heart easing at seeing her. He took a step inside the room, examining it and the contents within.
The room was spacious, enough to possibly place two beds in. Gretchen was sitting on a bed that was right in front of him, where a small brick fireplace was settled as well. On the left of the wall was a small bundle of firewood settled in a neat stack, while several furniture such as a chairs set upon a table were placed nearby. To his right was a little more open, mostly a big space that was a bit barren other then a old rug and a few knick knacks on the shelves. However, he did notice a few hanging pots and a small planter that was settled next to a ledge of an open window. A small plant resided inside, that almost resembles a rose; with white petals that melded with a red in the center. A small drainage was visible up above, and he noticed a little bit of water dripping down above, giving it fresh nourishment
He could only wonder how it managed to survive this long in winter.
He soon was close to Gretchen’s side and stopped before her. She was hunched over, sitting on the edge of the bed and with a saddened expression on her face. She was down cast, her eyes tracing down to the small music box that she cradled in her talons. Her thumbs traced the edge of the box, caressing it like it was the most precious item she had.
He cleared his throat, hoping to get her attention, but she remained where she was. He saw her breath come forth from the cool air.
Making his decision, he silently made his way over the firewood.
Settling their gear and General Quill’s paper onto the ground, he picked up the first bundle of wood and placed it into the stone grate. The room was quite dark with visible light coming from the window outside, and with nighttime swiftly approaching, he would have to get the fire going. Once settled, he took the small stone, that the thestrals had given him, and began making the fire within. After about a minute of work, the fire sparked to life. Quicksilver settled a cast iron to cover the entrance and prevent any sparkling embers from flying out. He took a step back, marveled for a moment that the fire began to rise nicely and was deep inside the chamber.
He would have stayed longer to marvel at it, but his attention was needed for Gretchen.
He turned to her, wondering how she was holding up. She remained relatively the same, her talons still cradling the small music box. Quicksilver turned to their gear, the note resting right on top of the pile. He turned to it, deciding now was the best time to read it to her.
“Fletching,” Gretchen muttered. He stopped in his tracks, turning to see her still staring at the music box.
“Yes?” he asked.
“In the closet… there are some blankets and pillows. Can you grab some, please?” she asked, her usual tone more reserved than before. Following her instructions, Quicksilver went over to the closet and opened it up to find the required items within. He picked up a large red comforter and a few red pillows that had a white trim on the edge of the casings. He pulled it over and settled them on the side of the bed, waiting to hear what she wanted next. She remained where she was, but she did not move to the blankets, nor made a grab at the pillows.
“It’s silly, isn’t it?” she spoke once more, her eyes still traced down to the music box. “Life can be taken so easily and all that we have of them is their memory.”
“Gretchen...” Quicksilver tried to speak, but she looked up to him and her eyes looked sullen from dried tears. With the light of the fire reflecting on her face, she looked that more haunted over her uncle’s death.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked, no apprehension in his voice. Gretchen blinked, another set of tears coming down her face. She sniffled and looked down at the music box once more.
“Not sure if you’re interested in my story, Fletching. Mine would be just as depressing as yours,” she muttered, quickly rubbing her eyes with her arm. Quicksilver sat on his haunches and remained where he was.
“We’ve got all night.” he replied, motioning to the window outside, which has begun to darken really quick.
Gretchen remained quiet for a second longer, her talon tracing the music box once more. A few pops in the fire were the only sounds between them.
“Alright, give me a moment.” she said, wiping more tears out of her eyes before looking back down at the music box.
“I guess it would have to start with my father leaving for the war,” she began, speaking slowly. “When I was younger, I always loved to be with my father and mother. They taught me everything I know. How to take my first steps, my first walk, even my first flight. I remember hurting myself a few times before finally getting it right,” she muttered, rubbing her arm a few times in the process.
“I was actually closer to my father the more that I think about. For he always was there whenever I was scared or felt alone. Whenever I got frightened by an autumn storm, he would always be by my side, always there to cheer me up when I needed it the most. His large wings would scoop me up, cradle me next to his side, all the while singing soft lullabies to me. I still remember how big those wings were, stretching out to at least a dozen claws on each end and encompassing me in his grip.” She paused, reminiscing as a soft, broken smile passed her beak.
Quicksilver shifted his own wings in turn, while she remained this way for a time until her smile faded once more.
“I was around six or seven when the war broke out with the news of King Ravenclaw’s death. When the war called and the rallying cries of our people brought forth one Gryphon from every Noble family. My father was eager to serve. He enlisted the moment they came at our door. Before he would leave with others to go fight, I was crying at the doorstep, with both Ebon and Deadeye on either side of me. I begged him not go. I just didn’t want him to leave, but I was merely a child and I couldn’t stop an order from our Elders and Councillors. Seeing me in my distress, he stood in front of me, scooped all three of us in his massive wings and held me close, promising to me that he would return to me and hold me just as close again.
“I never saw him after that. After many…many long months, they told my mother that they had never found his body in the early battles and had no trace of his whereabouts. I have no idea if he died or was captured and locked away in some forsaken cell, but after they stopped sending reports. We believed him to be dead. My mother was heartbroken. She became secluded after that, hardly eating meals or meeting anyone. She was like this for over four years before she just gave up and stopped taking any meals or seeing the light of day.
“I stayed with her, trying to reassure her, trying my best to see that life still had worth meaning. She gave me a weak smile, which still haunts me to this day. She soon died in her bed, my own claw clasping hers until the end.”
Quicksilver shuddered at the thought. It reminded him of his own mother dying from the pox all those years ago. The only difference was that he couldn’t be there for her at all, and her remains were burned so that the disease would not spread. It was after her loss that he had become secluded to himself until Silverwing managed to bring up and to see the light.
“After my mother's passing, we were taken to the grand estate were my uncle resided with his wife, Athena, and my cousin Franz. He had welcomed us with open arms, for he had loved his younger sister with all of his heart. I didn’t take a liking to him at first, thinking that he only cared about his military career. Over time, however, I began to grew fond of him and what he loved. He showed me the importance of our culture, its rich history and music. It reminded me of my father whenever he played the flute or the violin. I always recalled his music, my father playing songs that cheered us up. I sat next to his side, while Deadeye and Ebon were in awe, while even my cousin Franz would be singing a tune with…” She paused, her eyes staring blankly at a wall ahead of her. She then turned to Quicksilver, who remained silent during her story.
“I… I never got a chance to thank you. For telling about his fate,” she said, her eyes glistening with fresh tears. He folded his ears back and remembered how he had spoken of him to General Quill and how he had died.
“I didn’t tell you about his fate, how he died…”
“I overheard you speak of him. His last moments were indeed noble,” she interjected, before pausing again to wipe another tear from her eyes. He looked away, feeling more guilty to what he said to her days ago. The spiteful words about her people, torn apart by a possible civil war, and treating her poorly on how she was raised.
It made him feel like more of a fool than before.
“Gretchen, I…” Quicksilver began to say, wanting to apologize, but was stopped when Gretchen lifted a talon to him.
“Fletching. You said you had a letter from him? May you read it for me… please?” she said, almost begging. He blinked once before nodding to her, knowing how important it may be. He grabbed the parchment from his gear and cleared his throat to read. He then turned and took notice that she began winding the small music box, the gears turning with every crank. He waited till she stopped winding and looked to him. She kept her gaze on him, uncertainty running through her over what was in that letter. She then motioned her head to the edge of the bed and Quicksilver nodded to her. He stood on the edge of the bed, which was closer to the fireplace, the heat radiating much warmth to him.
He held the paper close and cleared his throat once more, the uneasiness building inside of him. He gave a quick look to Gretchen and she to him. A silent agreement fell between them as Quicksilver looked back to the letter and unfurled it. Gretchen soon let go of the music box, the same notes from earlier playing its tune, while the Equine slowly delved into the final letter of General Quill.
While he read, he had faintly imagined that the old general himself was speaking to them.
And that made it all the more harder to read.
My Dearest Athena. By now, the news of our defeat has reached you and our kin. The Equines that we thought we could tame, have been proven untamable. And the colonies that we once held with a firm claw have all rebelled and have proven stronger then we had ever anticipated.
Whatever you may hear of what has happened out here, know this. King Bronzelcaw did not fight and die gloriously in battle.
He killed it.
His Pride and his Ideals, killed our nation. And now my pride has begun to consume me as well.
You will never see me again, my Athena.
When this war is over, when the clarion calls of peace finally echo across the land… I want you to tell them. Tell our children that I love them. And that their father and brother has sacrificed so much... in defense of their future.
Au Revoir, Mon Amour.
With the final word spoken, the music that had been playing at a same slow pace ended. Quicksilver felt his heart ache from reading such a touching letter. Despite all that General Quill had went through, his final thoughts were of his family and that of his children.
For Ebon and Deadeye.
Gretchen. Even Gretchen.
Quicksilver slowly turned to Gretchen when she seized the letter and brought it to her face She was silent, reading the words of a Gryphon who was not only her kin, but a treasured family. After reading the final line of the letter, she let the paper slide from her talons, the paper landing on the wooden floor. Quicksilver then saw her talons shaking ever so slightly, her claws turning upward and showing her visible palms.
“I always loved him, I can still hear his voice, even now...” she said, her voice calm yet shaky. She squeezed the music box and curled her talons towards her chest, believing that little music box was the most precious thing in the world. “I’ve lost my father and mother already… and seeing him gone… him passing...” she said, her sobs resurfacing and her voice becoming strained. More tears streamed down her cheeks and Gretchen simply stared blankly at the wall ahead of her.
“With him gone… I’ve felt I have lost that warmth of them again,” she cried, her soft hiccups mixed with tiny whimpers. Her body slowly fell to the side, landing softly on the bed, just below the pillows. She curled inward, her soft cries filling the room of her heartache and loss.
Quicksilver felt devastated. His heart felt splintered by her loss, and even he felt tears filling his eyes. He sat there for nearly a minute, watching her body shudder with every sob, crying out for her uncle’s passing. The memories of his own parents resurfaced to the forefront of his mind, and he too shared her pain. If this is what Saint Gregor had mentioned to him, then he knew that she has felt as much pain as he. After staring at her and feeling his own heart ache for her, a voice procured a single thought.
Hold her, it whispered gently to him.
Without any word, he lowered himself down over Gretchen, his strained wings opening to encompass her. With a little resistance from his wing, he draped his right wing over her frame, her body shaking considerably from when his feathers made contact. He lowered his head until he was next to her own, and he wrapped his hooves around her body, holding her close to him.
He held her there, and she showed no resistance and or complaint. She seemed to welcome it as she cried through the night. The two shared their embrace, silently crying the night away until they both went to sleep.
The memory of their loved ones remained in their dreams.