“I’m sorry, Decurion. We tried our best, but the Captain wasn’t budging. And in the end, neither was the Ambassador,” Staff Sergeant Stafford informed them, standing before her and staring straight ahead like he was delivering tidings of a family member’s death.
“That doesn’t sound like good news,” Fortrakt said warily as Gilda held her breath, feeling suddenly faint as she sensed her worst fears were about to be realized.
“I wish to God it was, buddy,” Reyes replied, his voice grim. “We just got word. By order of Ambassador Goldberg, you two are hereby barred entry to the Inn and are forbidden further contact with our civilians and Marines except on explicit orders of the Captain. Worse, Marco’s being expelled from the diplomatic mission on the grounds of being a severe security risk,” he finished, closing his eyes tightly for a moment.
“I’m truly sorry to tell you this, Decurion, but he’s being kept under house arrest and will be sent home as soon as it can be arranged… which is likely tomorrow.”
For a moment, Gilda couldn’t move or speak; her legs going shaky. It had been expected, and perhaps even likely. And yet, now that she was faced with the reality of it, she felt the impending loss keenly.
“I’m sorry, Decurion. If it was our call, none of this would be happening,” Reyes offered. “We all tried to dissuade him; the Staff Sergeant here got a severe reprimand with threat of demotion, and I got my tail reamed, too, for getting ‘too close’ to you. He’s also forbidden me from training further with Giraldi or any other griffons, believing the Council of Crows is trying to use our bouts to learn more about human weaknesses.”
“In other words, he’s completely fucking paranoid,” one of the sentries muttered, earning a sharp glare from the Staff Sergeant. “Well, he is! Look, Decurion—we liked you and Gletscher there. We liked Marco too. And yeah, we all know about you and him now. For most of us, we think it’s weird, but kind of cool, too—especially after the seminars today and learning what it takes to win a griffon. We don’t hold it against him, and we sure as hell don’t think for a second that he was divulging stuff to you for sex,” he said in disgust.
“Unfortunately, the Captain does,” the Staff Sergeant decided not to reprimand him for speaking ill of his commander. “When the Tribune told him that he didn’t have to worry about Marco spilling secrets because they already knew what our weapons were—‘miniature cannons’ in her own words—he was sure that the only way you could have learned that was if Marco told you or showed you something he shouldn’t have. That cinched it. He demanded Marco be expelled on the spot, and Goldberg happily granted the request.”
“Crows take it…” was all Gilda could say as Fortrakt draped a wing over her back, wanting to both kill and cry over the unfairness of it. She couldn’t even feel any satisfaction that the Captain’s reaction confirmed her guesses about the human weapons to be true, or the promised rewards it would gain her.
For the only reward she wanted was being denied her.
For the only thing she wanted was now being wrested from her, perhaps never to return.
Ancestors above, you give me Marco Lakan, but then you just as quickly TAKE him from me? She wondered who she had dishonored in a previous life to earn such an awful punishment.
“It didn’t end there. The Tribune then challenged the Captain to a duel for his command and your continued posting, but he told her to piss off, saying he wasn’t bound by griffon customs and that from here on out, he alone would control interaction between our troops and civilians.
“She’s furious and threatening to go to your Queen over this, but for now, she offers her sympathies. She also grants you and the Second Spear an evening’s leave.” Stafford then passed her an order written in the Tribune’s script and marked with her command seal. “She says to return to the barracks tomorrow morning to meet her when you’re ready, and in the meantime, to do nothing that would dishonor yourself or the Kingdom going forward.”
When Gilda made no move to accept the order, her gaze locked downward and beak quivering, Fortrakt stepped forward to accept it. “Thank you for your kindness and understanding, Sergeant Reyes and Staff Sergeant Stafford. Will you please offer our apologies and well-wishes to Christopher McLain and Tara Fields?” He bared his throat towards them.
“I’ll do that, buddy,” Reyes promised with a nod. “Tara would be here too, except Moran told her that if she left the Inn, she wouldn’t be allowed back in and would have nowhere to go. She’s furious and he’s being completely fucking ridiculous at this point, but for now, the Captain is still in command. And at the moment, all we can offer you is this.”
As one, the six Marines came to attention and saluted them crisply. “It’s been an honor and a privilege, Decurion Behertz and Second Spear Gletscher. Know that you have our friendship and respect, even if you don’t have the Captain’s,” Reyes spoke on behalf of them all.
Gilda mustered just enough focus to return the gesture before her head fell again and she allowed Fortrakt to lead her away. “Come on, Decurion,” he told her gently, tugging her along. “Let’s go back to the pub, and have something a little stronger this time…”
Gilda barely remembered the flight over, or reentering the pub.
She was only dimly cognizant of being sat down or Fortrakt telling her the drinks were on him, asking for bowls of hot mulled cider and soft, freshly baked bread with a cauldron of melted cheese that could warm them inside and out—comfort food both griffons and ponies could share. They were getting some odd looks from the Caleponian patrons, and even a couple griffon Peacekeepers who were having drinks there, but they ignored them.
“This is good stuff, but remember Chris’s fried chicken?” Fortrakt recalled as they were served, leaving Gilda guessing he was trying to get her to talk. “By the Ancestors, that was so tasty! They could easily sell that here. Marco’s latest stew would do well, too. And Tara said they had a slew of exotic alcohols she knew how to turn into some really interesting brews.” He turned wistful, taking his first drink from his bowl. “Would have loved to have tried them. But maybe we’ll still get the chance? She’s staying, after all.”
“And I’m glad,” Gilda said dully, pulling her mulled cider closer and staring into its steaming contents. The smell of spice was strong, as was the alcohol within it—the Caleponians used a stronger brew for their Kingdom-acquired tastes. “I mean it, I am. But right now…” Instead of dipping her beak, she tipped the bowl back and simply poured it into her mouth, drinking half of it in one draw.
“I know.” He reached across the table to grasp her talons and guide them to a piece of warm bread. “Eat, Decurion. For as much as Marco loved making food, he wouldn’t want you to be hungry over him.”
She gave a sad smile, but obeyed, tearing off a small piece and distractedly dipping it into the cheese bowl. “He was so much more than he seemed…” was all Gilda could think to say as she recalled her reaction to seeing the brown-skinned human on his very first day there. “At first, I thought he was just a coward and a pervert. How little I knew.” She buried her head in her talons.
“How little we all knew,” Fortrakt ruefully agreed. “Guess first impressions aren’t everything and the ponies are right—you can’t ‘judge a scroll by its header.’ You want to know the funny thing, though? I told you that nothing happened between me, Chris and Tara last night because we weren’t ready for it. But now…?”
He exhaled slowly and squeezed his eyes shut in deep regret. “But now, if that was going to be our only chance to rut again and remember it, I wish we had. And for taking that chance and getting to be with Marco willingly, I now envy you.”
Due to curiosity or simple despondency, she decided she had to ask: “Rut again? With both of them?”
He hesitated but answered. “Yes,” he admitted, either out of a sense of honor or the alcohol starting to seep into his system. “I don’t know why, and I never thought of myself as a tiercel tucker, but the idea…” He shivered again as his cheeks took on a more rosy hue before he shook his head sharply and sidled himself slightly more to the inside of the table. “Guess it just goes to show that some opportunities should be taken, because they may never come again.”
“Or maybe it’s just better not to take them, if it only makes things worse afterwards,” Gilda answered dully, surprised she was feeling far more numb than angry at that moment, emotionally spent after the events of the past day. “By all the crows, what was I thinking, believing that everything would work out…?”
“You were thinking that he had honored you and earned you,” Fortrakt reminded her gently as he ate a fresh piece of cheese-dipped bread followed by another swallow from his bowl. “That human or not, he had proven himself a worthy friend, lover and mate. And don’t blame yourself for what happened after. You couldn’t have foreseen Moran turning on us like that. Even his Marines are mad at him now.”
“For all the good that does,” she groused. “Dishonorable, paranoid, boar-headed…” She couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to make him that way, but at that moment, she did not care. “It’s over, Fortrakt. I’ve lost my post and my mate. So what do I do now?” she asked forlornly.
“Let’s worry about that tomorrow,” he said gently, even chancing a brotherly squeeze of her talons she would have sharply reprimanded him for a month before, if not tried to break them for touching her like that depending on her mood. “I’m sure the Tribune will have some answers. But after a couple more bowls of this, we won’t be in any shape to fly back to the barracks, so let’s just sleep here tonight. We’ll get a room upstairs, and I’ll watch over you, okay?”
“Spending the night together in an Inn might be seen as a breach of fraternization rules, Second Spear,” she reminded him as she felt her cheeks warm as the cider soaked into her.
“With all due respect to both you and our human friends: Fuck the rules,” he said with a smile at what she could only assume was his first use of the phrase. “Have to admit, that’s one curseword of theirs I really like…”
She couldn’t help but smile at him, even finding herself with an urge to stifle a snicker. “Look at you, cub. You have your first eagless and a couple humans, and then you start acting all mature.”
“Well, somegriffon has to,” he replied with a wry smile, speaking far less huffily than he had when she had used that line on him following her first-night attack on Marco. “You’d do the same for me. So come on, Decurion. Eat and drink up. Drown your sorrows as much as you like. And know that I’ll be there if you need me…”
Gilda slept fitfully that night, despite Fortrakt’s company.
Nothing happened between them, nor did she think there was a danger of it, though he held her like a sire would a cub having nightmares a couple times in the night, leaving her grateful for his presence. Her dreams were indeed haunted by Marco and Moran; the former involved fantasies of keeping and being with him and the latter, of challenging and even killing him, though he kept rising from the ashes like a phoenix to take Marco away.
And in the background of all her dreams was an ominous shadow; like a growing threat stalking steadily closer. It blotted the sky and set the horizon afire; its flames starting to creep near until they were in danger of consuming all Arnau. She saw them but barely noticed or cared until they were licking at her talons, and this time, it was the shadow itself that reached for Marco, trying to take him away from her.
She took flight, attempting to reach him, but no matter how fast she flew or how desperately she beat her wings, he was pulled further back until she found herself face to face with her true enemy; a demon of darkness against whom there was no defeat or defense. She shrieked like a cub as its tendrils coiled around her and separated her from Marco for the final time; the entire Kingdom aflame around her.
“Gilda!” Marco called, reaching futilely for her as the shadows consumed them both. “Gilda! Gilda!”
And then abruptly, the voice’s owner changed. “Gilda! Gilda!” She awoke with a start to realize Fortrakt was calling to her repeatedly, shaking her hard. “You were having another nightmare.”
She blinked, realizing her wings were splayed for flight and her crestfeathers were standing on end as she continued to pant rapidly out her open beak. “F-Fortrakt…?”
“I’m here,” he promised her, holding her tightly like the big brother she’d never known. “I’m here, and I swear by all our Ancestors that I’m not going anywhere. By the crows, you were thrashing about like you were caught in a snare! That must have been a bad one.”
“You have no idea…” She shivered at the memory, taking what comfort she could from his warmth and presence. “By the crows, that was awful… have you gotten any sleep at all?”
“Not much. But it’s fine,” he promised her. “I had some bad dreams too. But also some good ones of Chris and Tara,” he confided. “They helped.”
“And I had some good dreams of Marco…” she conceded in turn, including a particularly powerful one in the middle of the night where he’d bested her in a round and she’d finally allowed him to properly rut her; she swore she could still feel his human paws groping her and eager thrusts into her as well as the enormous pleasure it brought. She used the potent memory to try to drive the still-powerful fears of her nightmare away, wondering if Princess Luna attended the dreams of griffons as well as ponies.
Well, if she does, she’s sleeping on the job! “Thanks for being here tonight, Second Spear.” Her heart rate and fear-splayed wings were starting to settle back down as she patted his foreleg with her talons. “You were right; it would have been very bad for me to be alone.”
“Well, one of us had to be an adult,” he reminded her with a chuckle, still holding her. “It was no problem. Looks like the sun’s coming up, so we should be getting up. The Tribune said to meet her later this morning. We’ve still got time, so do you want some breakfast?”
“Maybe later. Right now, I just want some water…” She was starting to feel the beginnings of what she guessed was a hangover-caused headache exacerbated by her restless sleep.
“Coming up.” Rising, Fortrakt poured her a bowl from the sink, letting her quench her thirst and water her cider-dried throat before he did the same for himself.
Leaving their armor behind for a bit—Gilda found she needed to not be a soldier just then, if only for an hour—they then went downstairs and ordered a breakfast of eggs, melon and muffins, washing it down with a Caleponian coffee brew they sweetened too much, even for her.
Though the meal was certainly filling, and the coffee woke her up fully, it still didn’t feel complete to her. It left Gilda wishing they could also have a few strips of the deliciously crispy and fatty flying boar ‘bacon’ the humans had introduced them to, wondering in turn if she would ever be able to enjoy human food again for being reminded of Marco.
Or human company…
They lingered over their meal for a bit, eating and chatting about their next steps and how they would present themselves when they showed back up at the Tribune’s office.
“We’re soldiers of the Kingdom, and by the Crows, we will act like it,” she ultimately decided, resolving not to show up moping. She’d had her night of grief, and though the pain of losing Marco was still very real, she vowed she would not allow Moran’s actions to break her spirit or desire to carry out her duty any more than the Ibex had.
That just like with the Ibex, she would allow him no victory over her, simply by remaining an honorable and earnest soldier.
Feeling at least somewhat better, and still having an hour before they were due, she and Fortrakt took time to bathe in the room’s small shower and put themselves to rights, preening their feathers and even putting some shine on their armor before exiting into the bright morning light. To her surprise, the sun cast an oddly orange or even red hue over Arnau like there was a pall in the air.
“Huh. Must be a wildfire in the mountains,” Fortrakt guessed as he looked up, though they couldn’t yet smell any smoke. “No big deal. They’ll probably just call in a Magus team with ice spells to deal with it. Or maybe one of our rented pegasus weather teams will extinguish it.”
“Maybe.” She might have given it more notice except her thoughts were decidedly elsewhere at that moment, allowing Fortrakt to take the lead in clearing their approach to the fifth level with the sentries. At one point she started to bank hard to go back to the Inn, only to remember with fresh pain what had happened, feeling the pit form in her stomach anew.
But she shook it off, reminding herself again that she would not spiral into depression or despondency over Marco.
That she was a soldier in service to the Kingdom, and she would show no weakness to the Tribune.
* * * * *
Five minutes after landing on the fifth-level crenel, they stood at crisp attention before Tribune Narada and Ambassador Strenus in the former’s office again.
Their appearance and bearing was noted with appreciation by the Tribune, who inspected them briefly before nodding her satisfaction. “Welcome back. And let me begin by saying that I’m truly sorry for the circumstances, Decurion,” Narada apologized to her with a bared throat as Gilda stood at stiff attention, doing her best to remain impassive.
“Know that both Ambassador Strenus and I tried to convince them to let you and Marco Lakan stay, and know that many of the human soldiers also spoke up on your behalf, including Staff Sergeant Stafford and even First Lieutenant Nantz, who addressed the Ambassador remotely from their outside camp. But in the end, Captain Moran simply would not listen, and appeals to neither reason nor honor worked,” she announced through narrowed eyes.
“I challenged him to a duel, but he declined, telling me in rather blunt terms that he would not answer to me or anygriffon else for doing his job. I even told him that we had guessed the nature of their weapons, but that only convinced him that Marco Lakan had been the one to tell us. He then insulted us again by proclaiming we could not have figured it out on our own, even though his subordinates told him that we were certainly smart enough to do so,” she finished in renewed anger.
“At least your theory was confirmed as correct by their reactions. Their black tubes are cannons, and the metal blocks beneath them their quivers,” Strenus pointed out. “For that insight alone, you have earned the gratitude of the Queen and the Kingdom, as I imagine our Arcane Labs and armories are going to be quite busy digging out and improving our old prototypes for the next few years—if we cannot convince the humans to trade us some of theirs, that is.”
“And will they?” Fortrakt asked.
“Admittedly, it seems unlikely. They have already told us that they will not, under any circumstances, sell their weapons to Tellusian nations, but they are checking with their government to see if they can accommodate a request for a demonstration as a precondition for a trade agreement. It will be some days before we get a reply back, but regardless, the credit for this discovery is yours, Decurion, and due credit will be given for the insights the Second Spear offered as well. You will both be rewarded for this.”
“Thank you, sir,” she and Fortrakt said automatically, but without any emotion. Just a day earlier, she would have been delighted, but now…?
Strenus and Narada glanced at each other, reading their unhappy moods. “I understand you two are still hurting, but perhaps I can cheer you up. For your rewards start now.” With a smile, she reached under her desk and then brought out several additional upgraded armor pieces for both of them, along with new rank insignias.
This time, the ensemble put before Fortrakt showed the improved vest, second steel pauldron and metal vambraces of a Decurion, while the set put in front of Gilda contained a sturdier helm, broader pauldrons that also covered most of her upper forelegs, and even a new leather vest equipped with a flexible metal band at the neck to protect her throat.
Gilda barely had time to register what was happening before the Tribune stood to attention, saying a ritual phrase to them as her aides stepped forth to present the new pieces in their beaks.
“Stand proud, Gryphons of the Kingdom! And reap the rewards of your service, Decurion Fortrakt Gletscher and Centurion Grizelda Behertz!”
“Ancestors above…” Fortrakt looked on the verge of fainting as Gilda was no less stunned. For they were both receiving a second two-rank promotion? In less than a month? “But… why?” he had to ask.
“For the wealth of information you have brought us, for the respect you have gained from human civilians and soldiers alike, and for solving the mystery of their armaments, these new ranks are well-earned,” Strenus said with a smile. “And before you ask about sponsorship, you were given the highest possible. At my direct request, this was ordered by the Queen herself.”
“But sir…” Fortrakt seemed to be having trouble speaking as he accepted the new pauldrons, staring at their single-feather insignia in wonder. “With respect, I’ve barely commanded three soldiers before this, let alone thirty!” He knew immediately what his new rank entitled him to do.
“Indeed,” Strenus said with a sly grin. “Which means you two will need to be given new duties and training in support of your new ranks. I am truly sorry you cannot see your previous assignment through to completion, but perhaps this will make up for it? Though it would seem you both will have one final duty in support of that assignment.” His grin suddenly got broader.
Gilda and Fortrakt looked at each other. “We do?” The former finally found her voice.
“You do indeed.” Gilda instantly picked out the coy note in Tribune Narada’s words. “You will be personally escorting Marco Lakan’s air coach to the coast with a single Turma, accompanied by a decade of Paladins. The human leadership wants him to leave immediately, escorted by a detachment of their troops and even an aide of the Ambassador to ensure no escape is attempted or information is divulged.“ She rolled her eyes.
“Paladins?” Fortrakt repeated dumbly as Gilda had trouble processing what she was hearing. “Not Knights?”
“Excepting the required presence of a Magus pair, no. And the reason is very simple: Though we will tell the humans that the presence of Paladins is to honor and protect their diplomats, the real reason is that your diplomatic command chain gives you the ability to lead them, and thus, the entire mission. And so you will, Centurion.” Narada’s grin was growing broader. “You will escort them to Catlais, where they will be met by a chartered Equestrian airship.”
“But due to short notice and logistical issues, that airship will not arrive for three days. This will, of course, mean you will have to stay with Marco Lakan in Catlais for the duration,” Strenus added with a wink. “This in turn means that his safety, security and comfort will be your responsibility, Centurion. And to that end, we have arranged lodging for you, Mister Lakan, and all the escorting troops in Catlais,” he explained as Gilda felt increasingly faint.
Narada picked it up again from there. “But sadly, due to the same short notice, there was no space available at the local Auxilia barracks; nor could we reserve enough rooms at the airship field Inns, which were already near capacity. This means that you and Marco Lakan will simply have to share a room.” Narada sighed in mock sorrow as Gilda’s heart leapt. “I trust that you will not be too inconvenienced?”
For the second time in the space of a day, Gilda had to choke back an uncharacteristic urge to cry. “From the bottom of my heart, I thank you both.” She bared her throat harder than she ever had before. “By my most revered Ancestors, I won’t ever forget this kindness.”
“You’re very welcome, Centurion. And before you ask, First Spear Giraldi has already discussed the matter informally with their outside Marines. They are no more happy about the Captain and Ambassador’s actions than we are, and though they are not willing to disobey their orders, they are willing to look the other way and simply not report certain things.
“If you don’t believe me, you can ask him yourself. Isn’t that right… Optio Giraldi?” she called behind them as they both heard the door open.
“It is indeed,” Giraldi’s jovial voice answered in some mirth as he entered and stepped between them both, saluting the Tribune hard with a thump against his sleek new steel pauldrons. “Greetings, Centurion and Decurion. I offer my sincerest sympathies at being so unjustly removed from your posts, but also my sincerest congratulations on your promotions! They were well-earned.” He saluted Gilda next.
“And greetings to you, Optio!” Fortrakt addressed him in amazement, saluting him for the first time. “But why—”
“His promotion was long overdue as well, as he has served the Kingdom loyally and competently for two decades, asking for little in return. He never had a proper sponsor, and due to his insulting a Paladin noble in his youth, he was held back from an officer rank even despite his combat experience,” she noted as Giraldi simply gave a strangely satisfied smile at the statement, leaving Gilda wondering what the story was there.
“As he has also played a major role in both gathering information and establishing good relationships with the human soldiers by training Sergeant Reyes—it may interest you to know that he, too, has been filing daily reports—I finally had an excuse to ignore said noble and give him a proper rank.
“Accordingly, he will be your new second, Centurion Behertz. Until you are more seasoned in your new responsibilities, I suggest you lean on him heavily as he has already aided Centurions and commanded their forces in combat in his guise of First Spear,” Narada advised.
“That will be a pleasure, sir!” Gilda was dizzy at the rapid turn of events, her mood suddenly soaring. I’ll get to be with Marco again! Alone for at least two DAYS! She went giddy, only to remember--“But after I see him off, what then? Wait until he can return?” But that could be… YEARS!
“I have already written Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, the new ruler of the recently restored Crystal Kingdom,” Strenus answered easily. “She was Equestria’s former Princess of Love, and in that capacity she will attempt to arrange it so Marco Lakan can stay in Equestria while things are sorted out here.
“In time, once proper trade agreements are implemented and immigration arrangements can be finalized, he will be able to return, and in the meantime, I imagine you’ll be taking a few vacations in Equestria?” he suggested with another wink, to which Gilda could only nod eagerly.
Just so long as he doesn’t live in Ponyville! “So what are our orders once he departs?”
“Twofold. Your final act as Diplomatic liaison will be to welcome a new group of humans to Aresia, who will be on the airship Marco Lakan will subsequently depart on—a team of twelve agricultural and ‘geological’ specialists their Ambassador requested without telling us their intention of replacing the existing one.” She frowned again.
“Ambassador Goldberg was apparently plotting to get rid of Mister Lakan, Miss Fields and Mister McLain anyway as soon as this new team arrived. This time, by request of the humans, they are being liaised with by an experienced civilian diplomat instead of military ones. The liaison is Miral Kalishad; a personal friend of mine.
“And with apologies, as your duties will be complete upon your departure from Catlais, you will transfer your diplomatic command chain to him.” Narada gave Gilda a scroll that contained her orders, including her new itinerary.
She scanned it quickly, scarcely able to believe what was happening and the incredible lengths they were going to for her, wondering how she would ever be able to repay it. “Of course, sir. But does he know how to use it?”
“He does indeed. I know Miral. He is a fine griffon who has done everything from escort dignitaries to liaise with pony singers. So believe me when I say that he is more than able to keep confidences,” Ambassador Strenus assured her. “To that end, know that I have made him… aware of you and Marco Lakan, but I promise you can trust him to be discreet. And please do not think of losing your chain as a punishment, Centurion. Your new duties will simply no longer require it.”
“Trust me, at this point, it will be a relief, sir,” she said, baring her throat at him, feeling the weight of the chain anew. “And after that?”
“And after that, you will report to Tribune Rialta of the Catlais Guard garrison to be assigned a full century of troops. Though the coastal cohorts generally see little action aside from the odd Harpie or Diamond Dog raid against isolated ships or settlements, they make excellent training grounds for new commanders. There, you will learn how to properly command a century, and you, Decurion Gletsher, a Turma. Optio Giraldi will help you both learn, and in time, be rewarded with a long-overdue command of his own. Is that satisfactory?” she asked them all with a wry grin.
“More than satisfactory!” Gilda spoke on their behalf as they all came to attention and saluted. “Our orders are understood. Will that be all?” she asked, still feeling shaky; a quick scan of the documents told her that they were due at the rendezvous point for the air coach at noon, with the intention of arriving at the coast by nightfall.
Get there, get settled, and then get two full days with Marco! she thought again eagerly, worried for a moment that the idea alone was going to make her get very obviously and embarrassingly aroused.
“It will. And Behertz…?” Narada called to her. “Know that I would not do this favor for just any griffon. But you have more than earned it. Well done, Centurion.” She then stood back to attention and saluted the newly promoted trio, signaling all her aides and sentries to do the same.
“Stand proud, Gryphons of the Kingdom and Soldiers of the Guard! As this may well be the last time I see you, I wish you the best of luck in your new posts…”
The previous night and morning had been a wild ride of events and emotion for Gilda. And she knew it wasn’t over yet.
Her orders were issued, but getting everything together on short notice was no small task. Their former comrades outside the Inn were stunned anew to see their latest promotions—“So all we have to do is rut some humans to get some new ranks?” a tiercel of her old decade asked jokingly, to which Gilda gave him only a half-hearted glare while Fortrakt and Giraldi just laughed.
Still, she let it pass. If she was going to be commanding the escort flight out, she wanted soldiers they were familiar with, and thus—with the Tribune’s permission—she had gone to their old Turma to collect them. They needed enough sky griffons to both escort and carry the likely trio of air coachs assigned, which would contain a fourteen-human ‘squad’ of Marines plus Marco Lakan and Ambassador Goldberg’s aide, as well as all the earth griffons like Giraldi, who would be inside to provide additional security, and could—in a pinch—provide an emergency escape avenue for the wingless humans.
Let’s see… sixteen humans plus six earth griffons equals… twenty-two, right? That means we need five six-seat or three nine-seat air coaches to carry them all, counting their supplies, she noted, which in turn required no less than four sky griffons harnessed to each for the former, and five for the latter.
As each coach also required two earth griffons inside and she only had the six, Gilda guessed they would be sending her a set of the larger but less comfortable nine-seaters, which was confirmed as a detachment of civilian griffons delivered them empty to the field outside the human encampment—which was little more than several lines of variously-sized tents right out of the movie Warrior—close to noon.
Though not military, they wore vests and flight goggles that bore the insignia of one of the Kingdom’s civil flight companies. They were contracted to provide both ground and air coaches to the Kingdom’s government and military upon request, for rates that had been previously negotiated. Being civilians, they did not salute her, but they bared their throats to her as they removed their harnesses and surrendered the coaches, requesting her signature on their delivery documents.
“You break them, you buy them,” an eagless warned her only half-jokingly, which would have earned a glare and reprimand if they weren’t civilians. “And these aren’t military grade, so try to avoid trouble.”
But instead of replying, Gilda just rolled her eyes. There were any number of things she could have said, from that the Kingdom would pay the damages to if there was anything wrong with the coaches that caused them to break, she’d break them. But she refrained, signing the requisitions and watching as they took flight, returning to their workplace near the base of the city
Avoid trouble… and just what do they think could happen inside the Kingdom’s borders? She shook her head at the thought, staring up into the cloudless but increasingly hazy sky. The sun was going a deeper shade of orange as the air above the mountains continued to fill with smoke, leaving her wondering how such a very large blaze had gotten started and why the Magus and pegasi weather teams they used to mitigate severe storms hadn’t put it out yet.
But as she would be heading away from it, she gave it no further mind. Gilda was already quickly coming to learn that an increase in rank also meant an increase in writing, if the number of forms she’d already had to deal with that morning was any indication.
They included contracts for the coaches that told her exactly where and when they were to be delivered in Catlais, requisitions for the troops and supplies she needed, including an in-air meal for all, full quivers and crossbows for her troops—not that she expected trouble for a simple transport flight within the Kingdom’s borders, but diplomatic escorts were always armed—and of course, the documents that named her commander of the escort force. The latter included a Magus pair and Paladin decade, with the former seconded to the latter from the Knights to ensure Gilda’s diplomatic command chain gave her the ability to command them.
Normally, a diplomatic chain only granted her the right to give orders to internal security forces like the Peacekeepers or Paladins; for a lesser branch to command the Knights required their own, rarely-given gold chain. But Magus were often assigned in support to other services, which instantly brought them under their chain of command.
As it happened, the Magus arrived first—a higher ranked tiercel paired with a younger eagless; both were sky griffons. That in itself was not surprising; Magus were always assigned to units in pairs, and they used the same junior-senior partnerships that the Guard did to season younger soldiers.
“First Stave Rubra Tunica and Decanus Arcine Nydia, reporting for duty, Centurion,” The higher ranked one spoke for both of them. They bared their necks and saluted crisply, their casting staffs strapped to their backs. Though she’d never met either directly before, it took Gilda just a moment to place the latter’s name and red headfeathers. She recalled quickly that Nydia was in fact the Magus that Tribune Narada had summoned to her office, ordering her to cast a privacy bubble over them while they discussed Gilda’s transfer request over what happened with Tara.
What a fool I was… Gilda thought as she returned the respect to the pair, noting that the younger of the two had the fur of a bobcat and the headfeathers of a red-tailed hawk. Running away from the most honorable beings and most Ancestor-sent experiences of my life…
“Welcome,” Gilda granted them both, putting her increasingly eager thoughts aside. “As this is just escort duty, I don’t expect your services will be needed, but your presence is appreciated all the same. I assume you know our itinerary and what to expect…?” She probed carefully.
The pair glanced at each other briefly, reading between the lines of her statement swiftly. “Be assured we were briefed by the Tribune—fully briefed,” the First Stave said.
“To that end, if you need our magical services to help you have some… private time with Mister Lakan tonight, you need only ask,” the younger eagless added with a slight smile that broke through her attention pose. “If you want to sneak into his room when we reach Catlais, we might have a stealth spell or two that could aid you.”
Gilda shot a look back over her shoulder at Fortrakt and Giraldi, who were glancing at each other and grinning; she gave them a half-hearted glare. “I appreciate the thought, but duty before pleasure, Decanus,” she reminded not just the Magus, but her two smirking subordinates. “We have to get our guests boarded, and then reach Catlais first. Our timetable requires us to leave at noon, which is just half an hour away! So stand to and prepare for departure!” she ordered, sounding as commanding as she could.
“Optio Giraldi, if you would be so kind as to assign the soldiers of our Turma to harness or escort duties? And Decurion? See that the supplies are loaded and when they arrive, that our guests are properly boarded and seated,” she instructed, only barely catching herself from calling them by their old ranks.
“By your command.” The two gave the ritual acknowledgement in chorus and saluted her with a thump of talons against their chests before going off to carry out their orders. She was especially glad Giraldi was there, as she could rely on him to assign soldiers quickly, but she also knew from time in their old Turma that Fortrakt was generally efficient about carrying out the tasks he was given. He’d never undertaken anything this big, though.
Then again, neither have I! She chuckled, trying to juggle their required numbers in her head. Five sky griffons carrying each coach leaves me only eleven, including me and Fortrakt for outside escort. But diplomatic convoys are supposed to require at least eight escorts per coach, including a pair of Magus… she knew, but that’s what the Paladin decade was assigned for; she looked up then to see them arriving next.
Landing in the field outside the human encampment, the green-armored soldiers came to a stop, folded their wings and saluted her, if somewhat grudgingly—in service hierarchy, they were far above the Guard, but being internal security forces, her diplomatic command chain granted her the ability to lead them.
“Prime Pike Niger Tigrus reporting for diplomatic escort duty,” he said in what she found to be a short and slightly snippy tone; his fur and feathers as black as Melina Marcus’s were white with the barest hint of tiger stripes beneath the former. “I will be commanding the Paladin contingent. I will also command the entire escort if you feel you are too inexperienced. Or are distracted and cannot perform your duties properly.” He dripped a measure of scorn on his words.
This time, it was her turn to read between the lines, and she frowned at his general bearing and borderline insubordinate tone. “I will command the escort, Prime Pike. And I will be commanding you,” she reminded him sternly, going up to the larger sky griffon to look him in the eye, making sure her command chain was displayed prominently.
“Such are my orders,” he agreed, refusing to make eye contact with her as a glance to her right showed Giraldi looking back and frowning; she had no doubt he could recognize their disrespectful attitudes from their posture alone. “And we will carry them out.”
She thought about calling Giraldi back over, as he was larger and more intimidating, and he was certainly used from his time as a trainer and First Spear to putting lesser soldiers in their place. But she didn’t, deciding that if this was her first true test of command, she would face it herself.
“Do you have a problem with me, Prime Pike?” she challenged him, then raised her voice to address the entire decade. “Do any of you?”
“Should we start with being placed under the command of a neophyte Auxilias Centurion when normally only Knights may lead us? Or should we also mention your ridiculously rapid and unearned promotions, or the alien ape you are laying with… sir?” One of the Fuga leaders asked scornfully.
Gilda’s hackles rose and her feathers ruffled as she stalked over to the Fuga leader, a Decanus eagless.
“That ‘alien ape’ is my partner, and I don’t give a crow’s worth of droppings if you approve of him or not!” she all but hissed in the other eagless’s face, then turned her attention to the Prime Pike.
“And as for you, I’m sorry if this pulled you away from more pleasurable palace duties like having tea with the Queen or servicing the spears of Saddle Arabian diplomats, but I’m not here by choice either, so by my order, mind your tongue and your attitude, Prime Pike.” Just like the Magus, the Paladins used a slightly different rank structure, though still analogous to the other services.
Her insinuations created a ripple of anger and ruffled feathers, which was just what she wanted—in griffon society, you were expected to give as good as you got, whether in battle or in a simple exchange of insults. “If you have a problem with me or any of this, we can duel over it later. For now, I expect you and your force to do as you’re told—to give my rank and chain their proper respect.
“If you do not, I will report it to my superiors, and given I hold the Queen’s favor, do not expect it to go well for you. And be warned that if any of you slander Marco Lakan in my presence again, we will settle it with blades later,” she told them all, and this time, she received no response.
“Now stow your gear and take your places at the fore of the formation! You’re elite troops, so by all the crows, start acting like it! And if I hear so much as a whisper of dissent from any of you, my final act as diplomatic liaison will be to order your ranks reduced! Are we clear?”
“Clear, Centurion,” he said sullenly, leaving her no doubt he intended to take her up on her offer and duel her later, once the escort mission was complete and she’d given up her command chain.
“Good. Now get out of my sight until we take flight,” she instructed them with a glower, then sought out the two violet-cloaked Magus. Unlike the heavily armored Paladins, their armor consisted of different levels of enchanted chainmail, designed to deflect not just blades but any spells or curses a magically adept enemy might fire at them.
“Greetings, Centurion.” They saluted again as they levitated their small packs of gear inside one of the coaches. “How may we be of service?”
“From what I’m told, you will bracket the formation, one from ahead and one from behind. Is this correct?”
“It is,” the First Stave confirmed. “Typically, the more experienced and better-armored Magus covers the fore of the formation, and the junior partner, the rear. Is this acceptable?”
“It is. Though if it’s not too much trouble, I do have one informal request.”
“And that is…?” the tiercel asked for both of them.
Gilda gathered herself carefully before speaking. “I would like to talk with Mister Lakan through one of the windows when we’re in flight, without the other humans seeing or hearing. You said you had some stealth spells that might help me, Decanus Nydia. Can you magically arrange it?”
“Of course, sir,” the violet-cloaked eagless said smoothly, gaining the same conspiratorial gleam as her partner. “I will be more than happy to cover you with such a spell from behind, but it will only be effective within two body lengths of you, so stay close to the coach when you speak to him. Just give me a signal when you wish it to be cast.”
“The signal will be when I fly beneath the carriage.” Nydia gave a sly grin in response, making Gilda take an instant liking to her. “When I do, cast your spell. When you nod back, I’ll assume it’s ready.”
“By your command, Centurion.” She saluted, then went to the rear of the coach formation and took a meditative stance.
“Our gear is stowed and our soldiers are assigned their duties. Was there any problem with the Paladins back there, sir?” Giraldi came up, his voice neutral but his expression a mild glower.
“None at all, Optio,” she replied evenly, then raised her voice so the Paladins would hear. “Just some disapproval of my rank and choice of partners.”
“I see,” he said coolly, then stalked over to the Prime Pike; the two having nearly equal size. He waited until he had the other tiercel’s attention before he spoke.
“Then I would inform our esteemed and elite Paladin comrades that I, too, have enjoyed the company and intimacy of humans. And I, too, would take severe exception to denigrating them in my presence. To do so will be an affront to my honor as well as the Centurion’s. So mind your manners, or like the Centurion herself, I will be more than happy to extract a measure of satisfaction from each of you later.”
For the first time, the Prime Pike broke his bearing to turn his head, pinning Giraldi with a stare. “Then these apes have not only infested our lands but infected our lesser service branches. Furless and flightless, lacking teeth or talons, they have nothing to offer us. They are soft creatures not even remotely worthy of alliance, let alone the use of our spears or our nests,” he growled, his feathers ruffling, followed by Gilda’s and Giraldi’s.
“And if you don’t like that, then I will consider the challenge issued, Optio.” His talons went to the scimitar strapped to his back; for him to wield a sword in a service that did not teach its use meant he’d studied swordsgriffonship on his own and demonstrated enough proficiency that he was allowed to wield it in battle.
“As well you should,” Giraldi said quietly, leaving Gilda impressed that he did not raise his voice. “But not until our mission is complete. In the meantime, you will perform your duties and obey the Centurion’s orders without question, or by the crows and our Ancestors, you will answer to me.” He lowered his forequarters slightly to show off his war hammer, personal blades and heavy crossbow.
“A laughable threat from a group of half-trained Guardsgriffons,” the Prime Pike mocked. “But one I will not indulge now. We will do our duty and accompany you on this mission. But after that…?”
He lowered his head to prominently display his heavy Paladin helm and service crest. “After that, we will duel for your many affronts to our service and race. The terms will be resignation and dishonor to the loser. And do not expect to be the victors in our bouts…”