//------------------------------//
// King's Rise 
// Story: Where The Heart Lies 
// by Broman 
//------------------------------//

“Steady, Gretchen!” Quicksilver called out.

“I am steady! Just don’t struggle!” she replied, holding onto his waist.

Quicksilver was being carried by Gretchen down the mountain and towards the ridge, where the noise of the encampment emanated. She glided down the pass while holding onto his sides, while he carried their supplies on his back. If any fortunate soul looked up now, they would presume it was an eagle carrying a large goat to drop for its meal. He was thankful enough the weather was calm and no wind blew around them, providing them a stable flight. To the west the last of the sun’s rays was setting, but even now it felt as if night had encompassed the land.

The two continued to descend towards the ridge, taking them at least ten minutes to get near the ridge. He often looked down to see where they were, and saw most parts of this mountain appeared barren at the top. He would cast a glance downward where he noticed a few deep gorges appearing to be bottomless, and he was grateful for not walking the distance they were now. The shadow of the mountain loomed over them as they glided, giving him an uneasy feeling of dread about this place. It was as if a great evil resided in those shadows and would consume them the moment he looked away. Gretchen flew near the walls of the mountain’s shadow, brushing past the trees that stayed motionless and resembled talons ready to grab them. Quicksilver felt his body angle with Gretchen as she went up and over the ridge, seeing his breath from the rapid fall. The two soon hovered momentarily and looked at what was before them.

The encampment was much larger than expected, with hundreds upon hundreds of tents placed around the mountain’s crevice. Several large fires burned near the center of the camp, with large shadows dancing around in a tribal manner. The drums grew more potent when they drew near and each beat thrummed in the air. 

“Can you get closer?” Quicksilver asked, still looking at the spectacle.

“I’ll try. There might be a small fissure to the side there,” she replied, turning her flight towards a small area near the camp. There were many trees obscuring their path, perfect for cover. The two made a rapid descent, passing by the trees that bristled from their arrival. Gretchen slowed her descent until Quicksilver was able to drop down and get into the trees’ cover. Gretchen followed close behind, closing her wings and keeping to his side. The gear in his sack jumbled for a moment and the armor clacked against her uncle’s sword, but the tremendous noise of the rowdy warriors within the camp were enough to muffle their approach. The two shared a glance before nodding to each other and infiltrated the camp.

Soft snow crunched underneath them, and the trees around them provided ample cover from prying eyes. Quicksilver looked to his left, seeing some of the tents pop up past the brush. They ascended a slight inclination, which provided some overwatch over the entire camp. He could still see shadows behind the tents and what looked like halberds being held in the air. He dared not think they just walked into a Gryphon encampment.

If they had, then the two would need to get out of there post-haste.

The drums continued to beat while they moved, providing some cover over their movements. The sight of the camp disappeared behind the wall of rock as they went deeper into the fissure. The path ahead of them had fewer trees and the walls surrounded them on either side, providing them with much needed space. Each step they carefully tread, not wanting to make a wrong move and bump into a stationary guard. 

I feel like my heart is in my throat.Quicksilver thought, glancing at every shadow for a potential enemy. The further I go the more chances we will be caught. Oh goddess above, please let us get out of this in one piece, he prayed, continuing to march forth. 

The two continued to move forward, their breath visible in the cold night air and only the light ahead of them as their guide. After a few moments, they spotted a fork in the path. In front of them lead to a darker area of the camp, with little to no light in that direction. On their left lead them deeper into the camp, more light shining before them. The two looked at each other with acknowledging nods and headed in the direction of the light. They slowed their pace, their gear sagging into the fallen snow below them, all the while the two remained silent. 

Ahead of them was a thick brush next to a large tree that sagged sideways. Quicksilver motioned his hoof so that they would get into the brush, gently placed his gear down, and went into the thicket. The tumble of the soft dead leaves and the low hanging tree branch thistles gave an adequate place to hide. Gretchen placed her gear next to his and crawled next to him.

 The noise of the camp’s inhabitants was strongest here, their hollers in a brutish, if not heavily slurred, language. Quicksilver was a little perplexed by this; it was something he did not expect to hear by Gryphons or Equines. He eyed Gretchen, already lifting her talons over the foliage to bring it down. 

She paused and eyed him. He nodded, and she pulled the leaves back.

What they saw was beyond belief.

Large horned creatures were shouting and dancing around a large fire, their large hooves pounding on the ground and possibly shaking the very foundation of the mountain. They looked twice the size of a large Gryphon, if not thrice the size of a regular pony, and heavily covered in thick furs. Most grew so thick that it covered their eyes, while others were cut short in some war-like tuft of hair. He could see they wore armor that looked like leather, but knew to be something else entirely when he noticed some sort of iron or metal embedded into the carapace. The way it was shaped and the way it moved allowed them to move in a wide range of space. There also appeared to be another layer of armor over the leather for a few of the creatures, making them larger than life and far more terrifying to behold. It was completely foreign, something unknown to even the lands of Equestria or any of her allies. He didn’t even imagine such designs even came from the lands of the Gryphons.

“Gretchen? What are they?” Quicksilver whispered so softly it was like a gentle breeze.

Gretchen remained silent, still looking out to the multitude of large creatures before them. Her eyes were still wide and remained staring out towards the rambunctious crowd of bull-like creatures.

“I… I don’t know, Fletching. I honestly don’t know,” she muttered. 

An uneasy feeling crawled onto him as he looked back at the throng of jubilant bulls.

The shouting grew tenfold when a circle was made away from the main fire. Two of the bulls were in the center of the circle, glaring at each other in a death-like gaze. Before them was a large throne, created by what looked like the remains of bone and leather. The circle shrunk somewhat by the number of bulls gathering, all shouting out for battle. The larger bull with a light brown coat stomped into the ground and shook its braided hair to the side, revealing a part of its face through its mane.

“My boys will have a good laugh over your death!” the bull boasted in what sounded like broken Equish, it’s companions cheering wildly on. His opponent, who had a smaller build from his opponent but was still at least twice his own size, remained staring at him in the blood-like haze. He shook his brown coat and his large horns shook from either side, resembling two giant broadswords. Once settled, the bull grunted and growled at his opponent like a mad dog. It was an unsettling feeling as he went on from growl to snarl, like it had no speech whatsoever. 

After his initial grunting and growling, it just gnashed its teeth and pawed at the ground, ready for a fight of his own. His opponent lowered his horns and charged forward with all of his fury. The two clashed in the center with a thunderous clack of their heads, and their brethren shrilled wildly from the spectacle.

Quicksilver and Gretchen observed the duel, hearing the sounds of clattered horns going into each other. The bull creatures battled each other with all of their strength, with each consecutive clash intensifying the battle cries of their brethren. The added cheers only encouraged their blood lust, battling and swinging their massive horns into one another and occasionally using their hooves for more direct and blunt force.
 
For several minutes the two fought in a battle of wills. The titans clashed until the rage-filled bull fell back when he was struck on the side by a powerful front hoof. He staggered back, trying to get his footing, all while laughing maniacally from the onslaught.

He seems to rather enjoy this, observed Quicksilver.

The braided-mane bull came forward and stuck him across the face, sending him back and slamming his head into the frozen dirt. A snapping noise came off of one of the downed bull’s horns, and he roared out from the pain. The winning warrior roared in triumph, while the broken bull just kept laughing and giggling while getting back up. The winning bull shot a look of annoyance and he strode over to deliver the killing blow. His hoof wrapped around his dazed opponent and lifted his head up to face him. Unbeknownst to the two of them, a third bull, far larger than the two, was approaching them.

“I’ll show you meaning of pain!” the victorious bull shouted, but paused when he noticed a shadow looming over him. He looked up to see the third figure standing over him and a hoof raised high above. The larger bull brought his hoof down upon the warrior, smacking him straight into the ground with a thunderous clack.

Quicksilver’s body jolted from the impact, feeling the resounding force from where he was lying down. He also noticed out of his peripheral vision Gretchen also flinched. The fighting circle around the warriors went silent, and the beating of the drums, which had been constant during the fighting, all but evaporated from the bull’s entrance. Quicksilver looked upon the large bull, who had settled himself onto all fours.

The bull was a beastly sight, easily larger than his next kin. His horns were worn and aged, but still looked like they could gore a pony in two. His coat was reddish with hints of grey in the edges, with a smaller secondary layer around his chest and head appearing golden from the nearby fires. His armor was far more extravagant than the others, resembling layers of leather and metal his kin wore, but more refined and causing a glow to come off him. His last feature, when he pushed away his golden locks, showed his deep, piercing blue eyes.

“You bloody cunt!” the large bull rumbled, his voice heavy and dripping with vexation. He pressed a hoof onto the bull he struck, the latter struggling as he shook considerably and at a loss for words. There was even a small blood trail on his forehead, pooling slightly below him.

“Guests are coming and you fight?! Settle later!” He yelled, letting the warrior scramble away from his leader. He then hovered over the rambling bull that continued to sway from side to side, not even paying attention to what was around him. The golden bull bend down and used a hoof to lift the bull’s head up, the two now meeting at eye level.

“Little brother… you still strong. Big brother believe in you,” he said. 

The smaller bull almost smiled at this. He nodded almost in a happy manner, though he still cackled a muffled laugh. The leader pulled him up and the two headed towards the throne. The cackling brother stood at the side while the golden bull went up and sat on the throne, overlooking the throng of warriors and creating a large open circle. The drums were silent, the fires crackled nearby, and Quicksilver and Gretchen held their breath to see what would come.

Within moments, a single repeating note played on the outskirts of the camp. Quicksilver and Gretchen remained silent, hearing the marching steps of warriors coming into the camp. He looked to the left, seeing more of the bull creatures part a path as recognizable figures entered the circle.

Quicksilver felt his heart drop when he saw Sharp Beak at the head of the column.

Blood boiled in his veins, and trepidation was on the forefront of his mind. An uneasy foreboding feeling crawled on his spine while watching the Colonel strut himself to the front, appearing to all the world that he was the center of attention. Gretchen snorted in anger but remained deathly quiet, and the two said nothing while they watched the scene unfold.

Behind him was his second in command Black Talon, who was easily stuffing his face with some meaty dish in his claw. Behind them was their faithful acolytes and warriors, all adorned with a black cloth and armor. A few carried banners that resembled the same gryphon mark of the King, and many more carried heavy halberds and black swords. All were armed to the teeth, and there were far too many for Quicksilver to count. There were definitely more Gryphons on Sharp Beak‘s side then he previously thought.

While he pondered on where they’d come from, his attention drew to the colonel, who carried himself like some fancy noble before his audience, and he took a humble bow. His entourage stopped several yards behind him and remained there as such. However, he did notice subtle movement within the center of the mass of Gryphons, but he could not tell what was happening.

“Ah… salutations my Yak friends. It’s good to see that you are having such great festivities.” He paused, looking at the snow covered mountains above before looking at them. “I trust that winter has not been too arduous?” he said. 

The yak leader snorted in his direction. “Yaks have no bother with winter. Yaks resilient to snow. Northern lands far colder,” the golden yak said, puffing out his chest. His yak brethren all laughed along with him.

“It’s good to know these lands are naturally suited for you,” Sharp Beak commented, taking another step towards the yak leader. The laughter ceased and one of the yak guards came forward, pointing his horns at him. Sharp Beak stopped in his tracks and remained steady while the guard snorted in aggression.

“Bird don’t get close! In Presence of Gansukh Grimhoof! The Great Khan! Show respect!” the guard shouted out, and a few idle yaks likewise readied their horns. Sharp Beak took a step back, but Gansukh lifted a hoof. His guards raised their heads, but they still kept their horns at the ready.

“My yak warriors right. I am the Grimhoof, the greatest Khan ever known in these lands! You are here because Gansukh say so,”the yak leader spoke with much authority, while on his left his mad brother gnashed his teeth and laughed at Sharp Beak.

“I mean no offense. I overstepped my bounds. My sincere apologies,” he said, taking another bow to the yak. “I merely wished to thank you for clearing up some useless rabble from the camp all those weeks ago. Those extra warriors from the camp were real nuisance to my plans.” 

“The war bands,” Gretchen whispered, Quicksilver turning to her. “He had ours brethren killed off,” she seethed, her talons pawing the snow and her teeth gritted in anger. Quicksilver unfurled his right wing and gently placed it over her frame, despite his wound's protest for him to remain idle. Gretchen felt a little comfort from his touch, but her detest against Sharp Beak remained.

“Aye… those fools. Easy prey for us. Caught unawares of our scent. They did not see fight coming,” Gansukh spoke, beaming with pride. His fellow warriors chuckled and nodded their heads in approval. The lone brother simply cackled to himself.

“Yes, of course. Which is why I wish to ask if your slave has tested our latest creation.” He paused, looking about the throng of warriors. “By chance is that mongrel still here?” Sharp Beak inquired. Gansukh turned to one of his warriors and spoke in his own tongue, then said warrior took off from the circle in search for whoever this slave was. It only took about a minute, but soon enough the warrior returned and a very recognizable dog moved along to the front of the audience.

“Lupin,” he whispered while the Diamond Dog moved in front of the group, carrying something underneath a cloth. Gretchen said nothing, opting to remain silent. Quicksilver looked on with her and wondered what they had planned. Colonel Sharp Beak moved forward to Lupin and stood before him, the Diamond Dog having to bow on one knee and present what was underneath the cloth.

“I trust the weapon has been proven useful?” Sharp Beak asked.

Lupin nodded his head. “It has been proven most resourceful in capturing game. I believe it would be a fine weapon,” he explained. 

The colonel removed the cloth and revealed the matchlock to all. He grabbed the weapon and showed it off to the rest of the crowd, while Lupin silently walked back towards the outer edges of the circle, remaining dejected. 

“I knew he was a traitor,” Gretchen whispered. Quicksilver said nothing.

“As you can see, this is the latest and revolutionary weapon in the art of war,” he proclaimed. “With this, our enemies will tremble in fear by its brutality. With this, our armies shall sweep across Equestria with an Iron claw!”

Many of his ardent acolytes cheered from the news, brandishing their swords and shields and smacking their chest plates. He seemed to have a command over his followers. However, the Yaks remained deathly silent.

“Weapon loud,” Gansukh said aloud, the throng of Sharp Beak‘s warriors easing their boisterous uproar as the yak leader snorted in irritation. “Weapon make easy kill on game, but yak have no interest. Yak cannot use. Need Diamond Dogs and Gryphons to use,” he said, unimpressed by the way the colonel carried himself.

Sharp Beak seemed to differ as he turned to him in a knowing gaze.

“That is true that you cannot properly use such weapons. But it has helped you in securing food by means of others. However, there is another reason why I wish to present this to you,” he explained, flicking a claw over to his company. Quicksilver watched as many Gryphons shuffled in place and began to part a pathway. In the center of the mass, several hooded figures moved forward through the Gryphons and came towards the center of the circle. A final count of seven strode out, each accompanied by a guard. Quicksilver noticed the majority of them were Gryphons by their talons and paws, but one among them was a pair of hooves. He thought he saw a pair of wings on him, but he couldn’t tell because of how closely packed they were together.

He could only fathom as what an equine was doing here.

All seven figures were forced to sit in front of the colonel and the Yak horde. Several of them moved their heads about, not knowing what was happening around them. Sharp Beak chuffed in some twisted amusement and strode over to each individual. He toyed with them by waving the matchlock in front of them, the edge of the gun bobbing each of their heads and making them jolt or try to move away from what was poking them.

“So pitiful you all are,” he spoke, garnering the attention of the prisoners. They all sat in silence, some keeping their spines straight while others only shook with fear. “To think, that you were all that stood in my way and my rightful place.” He paused, hovering over one prisoner in particular. “Yet you never expected me to be in the position I am in now. You,” he butted the head of the gryphon, who stiffened at his response, “will see that I was the one who will bring order to this Empire,” he said, clacking a talon to a few of his subordinates. Three of them dragged their captives forward, forcing them to stay in a line. They removed their covers from their heads and revealed three Gryphons before the crowd.

Each Gryphon wore different armor then their Nomad counterparts. They wore Iron breastplates, bearing sigils of what looked to be of a Noble house Quicksilver could not figure out. They seemed more regal in their appearance and their feathers looked far pristine then that of other Gryphons, yet their feathers had lost their color and looked older than the other counterparts. Quicksilver spotted a sigil upon them, but he couldn’t spot what they were until they were focused their attention on Sharp Beak. 

“You!” the one in the front exclaimed. “We assumed you were dead!”

“He was suppose to be banished!” the one behind him spoke, his gravelly voice spewing venom.

“The thieving cur,” the last one said, flaring his teeth at Sharp Beak. 

“Such foolish Gryphons,” Sharp Beak spoke, looking at each in turn and ignoring their chatter. “You were the best guardsman within the Castle of Gryphonstone. Friends of the King, the Ecclasiarch, and much loved by the people. The standard bearers for all that stands for Gryphonstone and the pride of our nation,” he said cold and calculating. He patted the end of the matchlock with his talons. “How easily you have all fallen. Lead by craven dotards of the old order, tearing the fabric of our culture against itself, and your worst crime: shaming our tribe for all the years after King Ravenclaw lead the charge.” He paused, rubbing the surface of the matchlock and chuckling like a crazed Gryphon. “It was so simple, to be turned against your fellows by rumors and false accusations. You had been there for all these years, and you think getting rid of me was going to change. This was a long time coming, and you old bastards will be the first of many to fall.” He hoisted the weapon up and pointed directly at the Gryphon before him.

“There was a reason you were not to have this position!” the front Gryphon shouted, ignoring the weapon in front of him. “You’re not worthy of the responsibility and the caretaking of the people! You may have tricked us, you may have turned our brothers against one another, but we have not abandoned the throne!” Quicksilver anxiously watched as the mad Gryphon looked down the sights of the weapon. At the same time, he felt Gretchen placing her claw over his hoof and holding it tight.

“Pitiful excuses will not save you from what was rightfully mine. Besides, there is one here who I despise more than you lot,” he said, while the Noble Gryphon’s eyes bulged out. 

“Bah!” he barked at the colonel. “You have not won! You will never take the thro-” He never finished as a bright flash came from the matchlock and a thunderous clap echoed around them. A hole burst inward the first Gryphon Guard’s armor and the second one stiffened, while blood spattered onto the third Gryphon. The first two Gryphons slumped onto either side, their eyes wide and mouths agape. The third Gryphon looked down, seeing his chest plate was covered in the blood of his fellow Noble Gryphons and the indentation the matchlock bullet made, where it remained smoldering and bloodied. The Noble Gryphon shuddered, breathing heavily. The old guard remained stunned while Sharp Beak snapped his talons and his second-in-command came forward. The corpulent Gryphon then drew something from his side and exchanged the matchlock for something that appeared to be a smaller version of the matchlock.

Without any warning, Sharp Beak clicked a small latch on the end, turned the weapon on the last guard, and fired the weapon point blank into his face.

Quicksilver flinched and felt a bit nauseous and bile was creeping in the back of his throat. When the smoke cleared, he was able to see the devastation. The top part of the Gryphon’s beak was missing and a significant hole went through his head. Gore and blood splattered the ground, turning the snow into a crimson wave. The other prisoners fidgeted and whined underneath their covers. The Gryphon fell with a heavy thump, blood forming in a pool around his head. Sharp Beak turned to face the Yak Khan before him.

“This…” he gestured to the smaller gun, “is called a flintlock, or a claw cannon if you will. A smaller version of the matchlock, but still equally as deadly. While the matchlock can easily penetrate through their heavy armor at long range, the flintlock can easily kill an opponent with ease in a close fight. These weapons are the future of warfare, and no doubt will lead to many vic-”

“Deadly and loud…” Gansukh interrupted, rubbing one ear with a hoof. The yak was not amused in the slightest by his weapon or even him in general. The yak leader grunted before continuing: “They still no use to us, for we cannot use loud boomsticks.” The Yak leader leaned forward, one of his fierce eyes visible due to his hair parting. “I ask… Gryphon… why this so important? What to gain?” he asked, all eyes now fixated on Sharp Beak. 

The Nomad Gryphon merely chuckled. He turned to face the Yak leader, his arms outstretched and his claws open to him. “I wish to offer an alliance. One that will truly be beneficial for the both of us. I can give greater credence in allowing your people to be here in this land. I will allow for your people to grow and prosper, and even allow you to plunder any villages and towns that do not pay the tithe. I can provide this and more, if you but offer your horns and fighting with me. Gansukh… the terrible warlord, the great Kahn of north, what say you!”

The Yak leader laughed outright over what Sharp Beak requested. He rocked on his seat, his armor jangled and tossed as he rocked back and forth. He clutched a hoof to his chest trying to settle himself, but he continued his raucous outbursts. Quicksilver could only watch in slight amusement over how the Kahn was, even his guards that were near him also chortled, with the Kahn’s brother laughing equally the loudest. Sharp Beak remained where he was, never once moving and his face ever placid. In fact, he almost expected this type of reaction. After another few moments of their laughter, Gansukh smacked his hoof onto the chair’s arms.

“You fool bird! No one tells yaks what do and not do! We yaks will take what we want, whenever we want!” he settled down once more, leaning his head and flared his nostrils, “Only worthy leaders and kings can make Gansukh agree.” 

Sharp Beak turned his head ever so slightly, a grin rising until he looked to be sneering at the Yak. “I’m glad you said that,” he said, snapping his talons while his warriors moved forward with the three other Gryphons, leaving the equine prisoner behind. From their vantage point, Quicksilver saw that the Equine had wings that looked velvet and even bat like, making him believe he was a thestral. The guards forced the three remaining Gryphons onto their knees. The one in the center remained still, his head hunched low. The Gryphon on the right struggled against his captor, refusing to bend the knee, while the Gryphon on the left, who appeared smaller than the other two, merely wept.

The way the Gryphon sounded made him believe it was a hen. 

“I present to you a gift, Gansukh. For this… is the reason that I made my offer.” He turned to the Gryphon on the right, grabbing his sackcloth and removing it. The Gryphon looked up and saw Sharp Beak, instantly shrieking at him with his cry echoing on the walls of the mountain. He then continued to cry out, seeing the three Gryphons killed by him. His feathers were bright blue and red, marking him as a Noble. Sharp Beak turned and presented the Gryphon to Gansukh, while the yak leader remained impassive over the whole ordeal.

“This… is Lord Glenwing, Steward and High Castellan of the Castle Gryphonstone. Master of Arms and the Right Claw to the king,” he explained, before moving to the smaller Gryphon.

“It can’t be,” Gretchen muttered, causing Quicksilver to stir and look at her, but was brought back when another shriek came out. The sackcloth over the Gryphon was removed, revealing what he predicted to be a hen. She was at first disoriented, looking around to see what was happening around her. Her feathers were bright blue, almost teal-like. She then froze on the spot when she saw the bodies, her eyes wide and her beak quivering. Sharp Beak then hovered over her, a single talon placed underneath her beak to make her look up to him.

“Little Artemis… You’ve grown into a fine young hen, my dear. It’s been… far too long,” he merely stated, his talons lingering another moment longer before withdrawing them. Her eyes were locked onto his, an unknown fear gripping her and her body trembling at the sight of him.

“No… y-y-you were not- suppose-” she stuttered horribly, never taking her gaze off of him, too frightened to even speak.

What is going on? What is Sharp Beak playing at? Quicksilver thought. Gretchen stiffened once more, her talon clutching his hoof and holding it in an iron grip.

“That’s… I thought she was sent into hiding… then… that means...” Gretchen said, her eyes opening wider and her breath hitched.

Before he could ask her what she was referring to, Sharp Beak stepped to the center Gryphon, whose head hung low to the ground.

“Oh raise your head, you sniveling coward. You knew this was bound to happen,” Sharp Beak stated, his words filled with venom. He grabbed ahold of the top of the Gryphon’s sackcloth and yanked it off his head. The Gryphon’s feathers were a darker color of brown from Sharp Beak‘s, yet there was hints of blue scattered around the edges and around the head. The Gryphon’s head remained low, and did not look up to meet the colonel in the eye. His wings were also drooped, appearing defeated. Sharp Beak raised a clenched claw and smacked him on the side of the head, sending droplets of blood to the ground. Artemis gasped while Glenwing sneered at Sharp Beak. The struck Gryphon didn’t move for a few moments before he lifted his head up further to meet the mad Gryphon. 

Gretchen was still, her eyes fixated on the middle Gryphon before them, her wing encompassing Quicksilver only tightening as a result. Quicksilver’s heart was filled with unease, and he tightened his own grip on Gretchen’s claw.

“Sharp Beak, who are these Gryphons? Why are they here?” Gansukh demand, causing the middle Gryphon to look up to meet him in the eye, revealing his bright blue eyes. Sharp Beak looked amused by the yak’s response and chuckled heartily while casting a glance back to the warlord.

“I’ve always hated that last part of that name. I never could reveal my true heritage and who I really am,” he turned around opened his arms up out for all to see. “Until now, that is.”

He slammed a fist into his chest, whipping his head out to the yaks and displaying his mighty wings, appearing to all the world like a granite statue that is to be recognized, respected, and feared. He remained there while he proudly shouted out to everyone in grandiose.

“My true name is Sharpclaw! Son of Bronzeclaw! Grandson of the Great Ravenclaw! I am the Prince of the Gryphon Empire! I am the true born son and heir to the throne!” He paused, looking at the Gryphon prisoners behind him.

“Isn’t that right, Bronzeclaw? Or should I say... Father?”