//------------------------------// // Chapter 19 // Story: Realms of Magic: The Realm of the Gryphons // by TheEighthDayofNight //------------------------------// Kathranis twirled his swords slowly in his hands, feeling every ounce of their weight as they ran over his calloused fingers. The sweat on his bare back drew a chill despite the shining afternoon sun above, while the long lines of tattooed black running in perfect lines across his body drew open stares. Many had been watching him since he had started practicing in a corner of the training grounds, and many more had joined them over time, but he neither worried, nor even bore the stares any focus. His attention was purely on the blades making small circles in his hands. Blades that were to momentarily meet others. Huron and Riven dashed forward on opposite sides, likely hoping to catch him unprepared. Two swords leaped out at him, but instead of trying to block them both, Kathranis darted to the side, putting Huron between himself and Riven. His opponents adjusted their attack, with Huron leading the way. His sword swung hard at Kathranis’ neck. Kathranis ducked beneath the blade and lashed out with his foot, catching his brother in the stomach. His brother grunted and fell back, but Kathranis was given no time to breathe as Riven reared back, his hand and a half sword cleaving down. This time Kathranis was forced to block, and the force of the blow rattled away one of his scimitars. Kathranis rolled backward and to his feet, dancing back as Riven continued pressing forward. On one of his backsteps, Kathranis kicked a small stone up and into his free hand. As Riven brought down his sword again, Kathranis sent the stone spinning toward him, smacking the larger elf above the eye, and giving him a chance to catch his breath. It was all he needed. As Riven wiped the strike mark away from his forehead, Kathranis swept his legs from beneath him. Riven hit the ground in a sloppy roll to avoid any attacks while he was down, and to further shield him came Huron, swinging at Kathranis’ exposed back. Kathranis stepped forward and spun on the ball of his foot, swinging wildly at his brother and forcing him back. Huron remained unphased, however, even grinned devilishly as he began to attack furiously. While he kept his brother at bay, Kathranis noticed Riven rising out of the corner of his eye, and he adjusted himself so that he could counter the pair’s off-kilter attack rhythms. They really needed to practice fighting beside one another more. Most fighters would easily be picked off by the two, but anyone who was truly capable with a sword… Kathranis took a deep breath and fell into his own rhythm, his body flowing like a river as he fended off the pair of expert swordsmen. Kathranis dodged and parried every slice and stab with his lone blade, the steel flashing in the sunlight as the pair of elves tried to land a hit on him. Watching them as they furiously swung at him, he knew that today, Riven would be the one to overreach. He looked particularly frustrated, especially with the sizable welt growing just above his eyebrow. Not a moment later the large elf swung his sword out wide at the same time Kathranis slapped away an attack from Huron. His brother adjusted his feet, the usual signal that he was about to speed up his attack pattern, but Riven’s swing would come in far too slow, was already too slow in fact. Kathranis stepped back as Huron threw himself forward, right into Riven’s swing. “Watch it roach-lover!” Riven bellowed, halting his sword. “It was one time!” Huron snapped back, his eyes flicking away. Kathranis smiled and again slapped aside his brother’s blade. He then grabbed the elder elf’s arm and wrenched over his shoulder, flinging him at Riven. The pair let out a string of curses as they tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Kathranis chuckled and picked up Huron’s dropped sword, casually moving over the pair as they tried to separate themselves. He poked at them with the sword tips and both paused to glare up at him. “I win?” he asked with a joking tone. Riven continued glaring at him, but Huron’s face broke into a laugh as he stared down the tip of his own sword. “I guess so, oh mighty ‘Blademaster’.” He winked and yanked his leg from beneath Riven’s. “But one of these days I’m going to be the one standing over you in victory, so say I!” He threw his arm out in dramatic flair, and Kathranis gave him a courtesy chuckle as he passed the swords to one hand and offered the other. Huron accepted instantly, and Riven did the same with a seconds’ hesitation and a begrudging grunt. “Need to fight with some obstructions,” he grumbled. “That’ll put an end to all that silly dancing of yours.” Huron laughed. “And it’ll make that cleaver of yours worthless. Not even you are strong enough to cut through a tree in a single swing.” Riven sent a glare the elder elf’s way, then continued to grumble under his breath. He snatched up his sword and began to stomp away. “Don’t leave now Riven, Blademaster Shadowsong and I were about to start our lessons up again!” Fordred called. Riven perked up slightly, and Kathranis winced. “So soon? We only just started our break.” Fordred chuckled and tossed Kathranis his tunic. “Just as you cracked the whip at me Blademaster, so too will I crack it at you. Chop chop! Learning to control the arcane takes years of practice, and you are behind.” He waved a hand. “Besides, you had your fun beating on these two. That’s break enough.” Kathranis sighed. “Fine.” As he began putting on his tunic, Huron took his scimitars, a cleaning rag already in his hands. Riven settled beneath the tree Fordred had been resting beside, and he began running a whetstone down his sword, his eyes firmly on Kathranis. “Do impress Blademaster,” he taunted. “Maybe you can make another cool breeze for us. The last one was welcome.” He hissed as a black bundle of fur landed on his shoulders. Secil dug in his claws to stay on top of the large elf, and looked toward Kathranis with an earnest smile. ‘Don’t listen to the brute,’ the cat thought. ‘I am very proud of you for branching out cub, and given time, you will be an even better fighter. Think of how much violence you can prevent if you open every duel with a fireball!’ He hopped down as Riven swatted at him, and trotted toward a sunny spot. ‘You’ll get it though, just treat it like sword-drills. Practice, practice-’ “Practice,” Kathranis finished. “Yes, “Dad”, I’ve got it.” Secil’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he flopped down, licking a paw. ‘Careful cub, you look crazy.’ Kathranis waved away his familiar and looked toward Fordred, who was giving him a nervous smile. To ease the mild tension, Kathranis clapped his hands together and said; “Let’s get started, yes?” “Indeed!” Fordred fell in beside Kathranis and situated his feet. “Let’s start with stance one pupil! Arm out, and channel that magic from your heels to your palm.” Across the yard sat three gryphons, served drinks by the fourth. Valan sat leaning forward, his legs crossed, and his eyes focused solely on the large elf, Riven, he believed the creature was called. He fought similarly to that orc that had nearly killed him, yet Shadowsong easily brought him to heel. It had been amazing to watch the blademaster fight, and he just knew that he had to ask the elf to teach him. He had his own fighting style of course, he’d been training since he could stand, but there were so many little tricks and movements the tattooed elf kept in reserve, so many small things that led him to be the victor in every fight. Valan tapped his fingers on the sides of his mug. He needed to see the elf fight a gryphon. Then he could be sure of Shadowsong’s prowess. Deyenidal said a quiet thank you to her sister as she was passed a mug of ale, while Aquila simply stared at Kathranis’ bare body. She wanted to get closer, to see and feel it up close, not from a miserable distance. Just because gryphon eyesight was better than anyone’s didn’t mean she could see his every scratch and scar, and she desperately wanted just that. She wanted to trace the lines of his body with her eyes, and then with her fingers. She wanted to bundle that lithe, dancing form into her bed and snuggle it until the sun rose, and for some reason, she desperately wanted to fight him. Watching him fight wasn’t enough, she wanted to match swords with him. Perhaps there was something there about proving that she was his equal on the battlefield, but ultimately she disregarded such petty feelings. She sipped at her mug, frowning as her elf put his tunic on. Deyenidal chuckled and nudged her with an elbow. “Show’s over, eh Princess?” “Mock me and I’ll order you inside the second Fordred loses the robes,” Aquila muttered. Deyenidal inched away, crossing her arms. “Just poking fun, no need to get ruffled feathers.” “You are one to talk sister,” Dranidal said, setting down her serving tray and taking a seat, the last drink in his talons. “I seem to recall a certain someone going for my throat when I suggested her love anything less than genuine.” Deyenidal grumbled something into her mug, leaning back and crossing her arms in the beginnings of a pout. Aquila ignored her, watching carefully as the pair of elves continued their magic lesson. “Deep breath in, feel the energy rise from your feet,” Fordred coached. Kathranis drew in a deep breath through his nose, his eyes focused on his hand, even as he felt a tickle in his feet. Fordred tapped at his elbow, adjusting it to be slightly bent. “Don’t tense,” the wizard said. “You’ll make lightning choking up your focal points like that, and not the good kind! I nearly blew a finger off when I did that.” Kathranis grimaced, trying to keep the thought of blowing the fingers from his primary sword hand at bay. He instead focused on following Fordred’s instructions to the letter, keeping his body in place, while also trying to loosen up. Fordred made a few more minute adjustments, then stepped back and fell into a matching stance, his arm stretched out. “Alright, deep breath out, and say ‘igni’, like so.” He took a deep breath, then, staring at the back of his hand, said the arcane word. A small puff of fire left his palm, slightly warming the air. Fordred then straightened and smiled at Kathranis. “Just like that. Make sure to exhale as you speak ‘igni’. It helps the magic flow smoothly.” Let his breath out, then drew in another, focusing on his hand like Fordred had. He felt a shifting of pressure in his body, and it began to pool in the palm of his hand. He didn’t let the sign of early success make him over-confident however, and instead made sure to speak the word in the exact same tone and volume as Fordred had. “Ig-” He and Fordred flew in opposite directions as the magic exploded in his face. Again. Kathranis faintly heard an alarmed cry as he lay flat on his back, his tattoos aglow with their warding light. His hair was smoking faintly, but aside from damaged pride and scorched clothes, he was alright. He sat up slowly with a pained groan and looked over to Fordred to find him in a similar state. There was a key difference as a pair of concerned gryphoness’s ran up to check on them; Fordred was grinning from ear to ear. The wizard popped to his feet just as Deyenidal crouched down to check on him. “Exceptional, Blademaster! You’re already better than most first year students! I didn’t get a result like that for months, and to deliver it on a consistent basis!” Kathranis felt fur and feathers on his neck and glanced up to find Aquila’s worried eye bearing down on him. He offered her a grin and leaned against her for a moment. “Thank you for the praise Fordred,” he said, “but I don’t think lighting my own hair on fire is what I’m looking for in spell casting, and that’s all I’ve done today. Isn’t there something more… utilitarian you can teach me?” Riven snickered from his place beneath the shade tree. “I don’t know Blademaster, I quite like watching you get blown flat on your ass. I think you should keep trying.” Kathranis shot him a glare, while the gryphoness at his back let out a chuckle. “Well if that’s all you want to see, how about your Blademaster and I have the duel he owes me?” Kathranis’ brow furrowed as he again looked up at the gryphoness. “What duel?” “The duel you owe me for impugning my honor and rejecting my protection,” Aquila said with a wink. “When did I do that?” Kathranis exclaimed. “Just the other day, when you nearly died while communing with your Lady Sylvanus,” Aquila said, a slight tinge of red touching her cheeks. “A few moments after I may have panicked about said near death.” Kathranis felt his cheeks heat up also. “Ah.” The two stared sheepishly at the ground for a long moment. A chill wind brushed through Aquila’s feathers, jolting her from her mild embarrassment. She smiled and grabbed Kathranis’ arm. “Come on Shadowsong, we having some dueling to do!” Kathranis yelped as he was pulled along, casting an alarmed glance over his shoulder at the nearest gryphoness; Dranidal. “Do I have a choice here?” “Not if you want to stay on her good side,” the white feathered gryphoness sighed, falling in behind them as Aquila dragged Kathranis toward the gryphon part of the training grounds. Zefuris intercepted them before they could get very far, however. He stopped a few yards before Aquila, forcing the gryphoness to come to a stop, stopping her incessant pull on Kathranis and leaving him back a few steps. Zefuris frowned down at her, crossing his arms. Aquila stepped up and matched his posture, crossing her arms and scowling up. “What?” she asked. Zefuris’ eyes narrowed. “I think on most occasions, you would know exactly what.” His eyes flicked over to Kathranis, who was busy brushing himself off, then back to Aquila. The gryphoness’ eyes narrowed further. “Last I checked I’m still a princess, and Master Shadowsong is still my charge,” she growled. “Unless Dad is restricting his access of the castle-” “And what would your father say if he saw you dueling Master Shadowsong?” Zefuris growled. “Your father may be a kind king, but he does know anger, and your repeated refusals to consider a suitor, only to now start showing favoritism toward an outsider-” “Is that Mom talking, or Dad?” Aquila challenged. “Because last time I checked, the outsider has passed every test thrown at him.” “It’s Zefuris, First Guardian of the Crown talking,” the gryphon growled. “I’ve been giving advice to your father since before you were an egg, and I can see when you are flaunting your duty to the kingdom, just so you can roll about with some scrawny little foreigner!” Aquila’s beak opened to let out a sharp retort, when a light cough drew the pair’s eyes to the elf who was watching their argument. Kathranis smiled, his hands resting on his hips. He looked toward Zefuris with that calming grin, nonplussed as he asked; “Is there I can help you with Zefuris? Princess Aquila was about to show me the formal training grounds before I settled a-” he coughed into his hand “-minor debt of mine.” Aquila scoffed, realizing even as she spoke how close she and Zefuris were. She was practically butting heads with the elder gryphon. “It’s not a formal debt Shadowsong, that was just some teasing to get you to agree to the duel we will have.” She shot a glare at Zefuris as she took a step back, daring him to challenge her. He did in his eyes, promising that the confrontation wasn’t yet finished, but he too took a step back, his arms dropping behind his back. He looked to Kathranis with an even expression. “Your presence is requested in the throne room Master Shadowsong.” A pained expression painted itself across Kathranis’ face and he looked down at himself. “Ah, well, I should be able to clean up with a few minutes and a bucket of wat-” “Immediately,” Zefuris cut in. Kathranis sighed. “Yes of course. I wouldn’t want to insult our gracious hosts.” He mentally called for Secil to grab his armor and weapons, something the cat had already been working on, but had been slowly meandering at as he waited for Huron to finish cleaning Kathranis’ swords. Yowling quickly filled the air, chased by curses as the cat began to steal away the swords. As Zefuris’ expression shifted to an annoyed frown, Kathranis chuckled at the cacophony of noise. “Secil should have my armor and weapons in a moment. I don’t think a sweaty tunic alone is befitting a meeting with King Terran.” With the noise continuing to grow in volume, Zefuris let out a sigh and waved the elf away. “Please stop that howling before I lose my mind. Nobody will be insulted if you take a minute or two to prepare yourself.” Kathranis flashed a grin and skipped away. Aquila briefly considered watching his lithe form, but she had more pressing matters, namely the gryphon before her. “What are you doing?” she growled. “I would ask you the same thing Princess,” he growled back. “You’re acting like your idiot brother, shedding feathers chasing after a creature which clearly is not worth your time. You have a duty to your father’s crown to marry a proper, noble gryphon to keep that testy lot in line, as well as to protect the succession.” “I know what my duty is,” Aquila snapped. “But last time I checked, titles only count for so much, and ultimately, I should be marrying a warrior.” She snorted and crossed her arms. “Besides, Shadowsong checks every block but one, and the ponies have magic that can give us a hatchling. Just because he isn’t a perfect fit, doesn’t mean he isn’t the best one, especially given that he’ll actually survive in Dad’s court.” “You think that scrawny little human will survive with those eagles in there?” Zeufris asked, jabbing a talon toward Kathranis. Aquila glanced over her shoulder and found the elf being chased about by Secil, a sword in the cat’s teeth. Everyone around him was laughing, even that large elf that seemed to perpetually scowl had a broad smile as the tiny little house cat swung at Kathranis’ feet. She simultaneously blushed in embarrassment for the elf, as well as felt her heart sink at missing such a delightful moment. Oh the bright smile on his face… “I think he gets along well with Valan,” she said, nodding toward where her brother was rolling in the dirt, laughing so hard that he was crying. “And I think he offers something Dad badly needs; fresh perspective.” She looked back to Zefuris. “And just so you know, one of Shadowsong’s elves suggested they leave altogether and go join the Warlords. Keep that in mind whenever you deliver your report to Mom. We wouldn’t want to deliver new allies to our old competition, now would we?” Zefuris turned red, telling her she had hit the nail right on the head by mentioning her mother. She smirked and turned away, flicking his beak with her tail. As Kathranis and Secil did another lap, the cat finally managed to trip him, causing the elf to stumble toward the hard flagstones. With a few quicker steps and a flap, Aquila managed to catch him, and his teeth shined up at her as she cradled his head. “Apologies Princess, I seem to have been defeated by a mere housecat. Perhaps I’m not worthy of our duel.” Aquila clicked her tongue. “Perhaps. Perhaps I should duel your familiar. He at least appears to be a good swordsgryph.” They both looked to the cat, who was strutting around proudly, sword still firmly clamped in his jaws. The pair chuckled, and Aquila stood them up, brushing the elf off. “Come on Shadowsong,” she chided. “You can’t look scruffy in front of Dad.” The elf scoffed, brushing the dirt from his hair. “I am more than certain he’s seen me at my worst, a touch of dirt won’t lower his opinion much.” “True,” Aquila said. “But if he’s summoning you, that usually means court is in session. Plenty of nobles will be there, and this time they won’t be playing nice like at your party. They’ll see you as a threat to their power.” She tilted her head as she looked the elf up and down, quickly noticing something was missing. She smiled as Secil passed her his sword and she slid it smoothly into the sheathe on his hip. He was quick to slide the other into place and put the finishing touches on straightening out his armor. Aquila was surprised at how quickly the elf was able to dress, but he seemed completely calm about it, running through a fast checklist to ensure everything was in place, ending it by draping his new cloak over his shoulders. He smiled at her and rested his hands on his swords. “I think this should do nicely for an audience.” “We’ve certainly met more powerful looking a lot worse,” Huron said, not glancing up from where he was sharpening his sword. “Audience!” Valan squawked. The gryphon was on his feet and in Kathranis’ face in an instant. “An audience? With Mom and Dad? Now?!?” He began to hyperventilate, looking the elf up and down. “Alright, alright, not too bad, we’ve certainly seen worse show up…” Kathranis offered a smile to the gryphon, then looked to Aquila, who looked visibly unhappy at being shoved away. The gryphoness saddled up to her brother and gave a single dramatic sniff. “Can’t say the same about you. You look like you’ve been rolling in the dirt all day, and really? Just a tunic? Not really fitting the crown prince if you ask me.” Kathranis watched as Valan’s eyes widened with alarm. He grabbed Kathranis’ shoulders. “Meet me at the throne room entrance! I just need a minute to clean up!” And then he was gone, leaving a dust cloud and several feathers spiraling in his wake. Aquila snorted and wrapped a wing around Kathranis, setting his feet to moving and guiding him toward the castle. “That’s better,” she said. “Now you and I can go over proper throne room etiquette.” Kathranis sighed, but smiled at her. “With anyone else, it would be a subject to dread, but please do enlighten me Princess.” The gryphoness grinned and hugged him tighter, then began to speak. Her words carried them all the way to the throne room doors, where he continued to carefully listen to every word, as much hung up on her voice as he was attentive to the subject matter. Movement caught Kathranis’ eye as Valan came charging up, a sword belt hanging loosely from his hip, even as he tried to hang a cape over his shoulders. A spot of raised carpet proved to be the manic young gryphon’s downfall, and he tripped, hitting the ground in a bundle of feathers. The guards flanking the throne room doors snickered. As Aquila sighed in exasperation, Kathranis chuckled and bent down, helping the gryphon to his feet. While Valan flushed crimson with embarrassment, Kathranis began to tidy up his hastily thrown on armor. “Do go on Princess,” he said, focusing on straightening, then tightening Valan’s sword belt. A long-sword hung from it, and he briefly wondered if he should put the gryphon up against Huron. It would certainly be interesting to see how the tall creatures fought. “You were talking about addressing the nobles?” “You’re not going to know they’re titles and positions, so I think it’s best you just wait for Dad to address them,” Aquila said, crossing her arms and scowling at Valan. “You want to offend as few of them as possible so that both sides will have the opportunity to win you over. Dad likes keeping balance with them, and unfortunately, they’re a prissy pack of featherheads who will take any opportunity to get offended. Just try to be tough…” Kathranis snorted and smiled at her, earning him a smack to the side of his head. “And no smiling!” she snapped. “They’re going to eat you alive if you smile too much! They eat happiness for breakfast and you…” Kathranis’ continued smile easily ground down her offense, and she let out a sigh, then joined in tidying Valan up. She worked on his cape while Kathranis tightened the gryphon’s bracers. As he finished up and began to step back to give the gryphon one last once over, feathers embraced him, followed quickly by fur poking through a tunic. Aquila nuzzled his head and sighed. “They really are going to eat you. Rumor says they actually tried eating a pony who smiled too much once.” She stepped back, meeting his eyes. “Could you just… try not to smile? At least a little?” Kathranis gave her a wink, causing her cheeks to flush. “I think your father would be disappointed if I wasn’t genuine in his court.” He stepped back and looked Valan up and down, quickly giving the gryphon a nod and a smile. “Besides, where’s the fun in making sure that every feather remains unruffled?” He turned around, then sparing a wry smile to one of the guards, he pushed the doors open and strode forward into the throne room, with Valan flapping to catch up to the sharp stride forward. He had a touch of experience with dealing with stuck-up nobles, and while he was certain that an older, more experienced diplomat could have abided by every little custom, he fully intended to make his presence known. One of the most important lessons he had learned was that the most important impression was a confidant one. Gasps and hushed whispers touched his ears as he walked down the plush red carpet of the throne room. Instead of searching the crowd for the whisperers, he instead turned his eyes up, briefly admiring the towering stone ceiling. A few banners hung from on high in the pointed throne room ceiling, but they were only brief points of color in comparison to the sea that sat behind the thrones. A massive stained glass window of the rainbow-colored tree that sat in the castle gardens took center stage, casting it’s rainbow light onto the monarch and his wife, raised above everyone else on pedestals of stone. The actual thrones themselves were rather simple, but in a room that seemed to lack any sort of seating at all, they stood out, as did the pair sat upon them. Terran wore full leather armor, though his seemed far bulkier than Kathranis’ own. The chest piece was dyed in the red and grey of his banner, with the mountains ringed in gold, making them stand out. Traditional crimson hanged from his shoulders, and in his talons rested a simply massive sword that Kathranis hesitated to call over-sized, even though it was nearly as tall as he was. Though he had met the king, had been assured of his kindness and humor, there was still something intimidating about him, though luckily that was being tampered by the curiosity, and amusement in his golden eyes. The queen’s eyes were not so kindly. Her green eyes bore daggers into his chest, and momentarily distracted him from her priestly garbs. Her dress was made of a flow of whites, greys, and golds, meeting on her chest into another depiction of the tree, trimmed with crystals of some kind that made it shine in the same rainbow as the window behind her. Her unkind eyes were matched by Zefuris’ furious ones as he glared hateful daggers at Kathranis’ chest from his place standing beside her seat. Both wore crowns, and both looked behind Kathranis as a guard flapped forward to stand to the right of the throne. Looking incredibly nervous, no doubt for not stopping the elf from simply storming past, he cleared his throat, then shouted; “All kneel for his majesty the King!” Kathranis heard the sound of hundreds falling to their knees, watched as Zefuris and Valan were quick to fall as well. He was surprised with all the noise his words cut the air as much as they did. “While I appreciate the royal treatment, kneeling is hardly necessary. I’m just a Blademaster after all.” He felt the slightest twitch in his eye as the joke hit the air. It had sounded better in his head, and hitting very dead air did not help it. He certainly wasn’t a jester when it came to jokes, and as the air grew even more oppressive with the weight of many a shocked glare, he felt his chest loosen as Terran cracked a smile, then threw his head back. Loud peals of laughter spread confusion further as heads poked up from their bowed state. Scyalla stared at her husband with slack jawed disbelief as he howled with laughter, very nearly losing his grip on his sword. With a slap on his thigh that seemed to echo, Terran wiped tears from his eyes and jabbed a talon at Kathranis’ chest. “I should have you arrested for an assassination attempt like that! Your talents are wasted fighting!” Kathranis placed a hand over his chest and offered a slight bow. “The good king is too kind.” Terran let out a few chuckles as everyone climbed shakily to their feet. Whispers quickly began to abound again, but Kathranis ignored them and glanced back to find Valan staring at him with panicky eyes. He couldn’t help but offer the gryphon a reassuring wink, causing the gryphon to gulp and shuffle in place. Terran tapped the tip of his sword on the stone between his feet, drawing all eyes to him. “Quite the entrance Blademaster,” he said, the room falling quiet once more. “I must say, I wish more diplomats would try something as bold as a joke like that.” Kathranis set his hands on his right-hand sword hilt, leaning slightly that way. “I think the joke would lose it’s humor after the first attempt, good King. Best it stay the one and only attempt I think. Had your sense of humor not been great, I think it would not have been so well received.” Terran nodded, leaning back in his throne. “True, but still, it’s creative, it’s unique! Something I have come to expect from you and your people Blademaster, and you continue to impress.” His sword again tapped the ground, and his smile dimmed as he began addressing the entire throne room. “Now, to the business at hand; we have already decided that the violence of the humans at our doorstep needs to be answered, and I have found allies in the zebras and the ponies-” his eyes flicked to Kathranis “-but while they are powerful, they do not have the experience you do with fighting these humans, so I ask you this; have your people decided to join our cause?” “My people decide nothing,” Kathranis replied. “The purpose of the Talk we held this morning was merely their chance to express their thoughts on the matter, and I would do a disservice as Blademaster to reveal what their consensus was, especially given that I told them that I would make my decision on the ‘morrow.” He rolled his shoulders. “Regardless, you have still not held to your part of our agreement, so the answer to your question is a definite no.” Terran tapped the hilt of his sword with his talons. “Remind me of our agreement.” Judging by the look in his eyes, the words were little more than patter, likely for the nobles around them. Willing to help the gryphon king play the part, Kathranis nodded. “I wish to scout the humans, to verify the stories I have heard and to see if a peaceable solution might be met. I do not go to war based on rumor, and neither, I think, do you.” “Rumor?” a voice spat from his left. Kathranis barely turned his head, giving the hunched gryphon in shining armor a once over even as he continued to spit. “An entire town was razed and it’s gryphons slaughtered by those wretched beasts, and you dare to question King Terran’s word on it? You should be whipped!” “If the town’s populace was slaughtered then show me a body,” Kathranis said calmly. “Otherwise, all you have for evidence is burned buildings, and even those have likely been cleared in the past month.” “And what of the guards who were killed in the human’s ambush?” another asked on the opposite side of the room, this time a tall gryphoness wearing a simple breastplate over a short dress of silver. “What of the attempt on Prince Valan’s life that you prevented?” Kathranis smiled. “A misunderstanding and a rivalry gone wrong. The Thayans have been at war for a long time, and when frightened they believe they must go on the offensive. As for the ambush Prince Valan and I were rescued from, the orc leading it was an old opponent of mine. I doubt a month of watching the shadows and building walls has done well for his state of mind. I would no more slaughter the Thayans for his actions than you would hang an owner because his dog bit you.” “But the owner would be punished for letting his dog off the leash, no?” the gryphoness asked. “And the dog itself, would it not be put down?” Kathranis tilted his head, answering her question with one of his own. “That would depend on the context and information provided, would it not? Should the dog have attacked when backed into a corner, assaulted on all sides in an unfamiliar place while wounded and starving, I think attacking would be it’s only course of action left.” He forced his smile to take on an uncomfortable, but wicked glint. “Even we paltry few elves could slaughter thousands if backed into a corner.” Veiled threats were by far his least favorite weapon to use when politicking. The problem was that they were far too effective, as demonstrated when several of the gryphons puffed up, while others shied away, their eyes on the swords he was tapping the hilts of. The gryphoness was a mix of the former and latter, puffing up while her eyes stared at the sheathed blades. Sniffing indignantly, she looked toward Terran. “My King, isn’t it prohibited for outsiders to carry weapons in the throne room?” Kathranis and Terran exchanged a glance, then gryphon king looked toward the silver-dressed gryphoness. “Blademaster Shadowsong has powerful magic at his disposal as well Duchess Ironborne, and unlike the ponies, it does not originate from a horn, or a set of wings.” He looked back toward Kathranis. “I could disarm him, but that would require binding his hands, and his tongue, because so far as I know, his magic works by singing.” He motioned to the elf. “But I’m sure he could explain it better than I, perhaps even demonstrate.” Kathranis offered a slight bow. “Apologies good King, but my magic is not performative, and is called on only in emergencies. Fordred, our wizard, would be able to display magic far surpassing my own.” “A shame,” Terran said with a shrug. “I like a good magic show.” He opened his beak to say more, but a thin sound filled the air as someone cleared their throat. Eyes turned to a smaller, spindly looking gryphon, though that wasn’t saying much. He about matched Kathranis in height, and in build. His voice, however, was nasally as he stared at the elf while addressing the king. “Apologies my King, but I think we have lost ourselves in the debate of morality while ignoring the larger issue; accidental or not, decimated village or not, these humans have invaded your kingdom and have made no attempt to send emissaries to ask for your permission to settle here. If what the Blademaster says is true, and this has all been a horrible misunderstanding, the fact remains that they are trespassing and carving out territory in the center of your kingdom. It is an infringement on your crown my King, and though the word has been scarcely mentioned, that is a deceleration of war.” Whispers abounded at the gryphon’s words, and Terran was quick to use his sword as a gavel, tapping against the stone again for silence. “It has not yet come to war,” he said firmly, addressing the entire hall. “We are only in the opening stages of discussing such a thing, and as Blademaster Shadowsong wishes, so do I. My kingdom has not remained prosperous by throwing it into every little conflict that comes across my table, and ending thirty years of peace is not a decision to be made lightly.” “You do address a fair point though, Duke Windbreaker,” Terran continued. “Innocent or not, the humans are invaders, and we need to begin expelling them from our lands as soon as possible before they build lives here. A dog defending it’s home is just as dangerous as one backed into a corner.” He looked to Kathranis. “Blademaster, take Zefuris and a battalion of my guards-” “Zefuris’ guidance will be enough,” Kathranis interrupted. “I can blend easily in the forests and need only be shown the way. I have no desire to put anyone in danger for a simple scouting mission.” “Very well,” Terran said with a nod. “Report to me as soon as you return, so that we may discuss what you see.” Kathranis offered the gryphon king one last bow. “Of course good King. If there is nothing else I will set out immediately.” Terran began to nod, but Scylla leaned forward a touch and raised a hand, stopping Kathranis before he could turn away. “A moment Blademaster, but I have a question for you on other matters we previously discussed.” Kathranis did his best not to raise an eyebrow to Terran in question, but the gryphon king looked a touched confused by the queen’s query. He was still resolute in support of his queen, however, looking to Kathranis to answer in the affirmative. The elf adjusted his hands to clasp them together before him. “Of course your Majesty,” he said. “To which matters were you referring?” “Tomorrow is Fifthsday, and we will be holding worship in the Sanctuary of Harmony,” Scylla said. “I intend to approach your friend Fordred today to talk about his formal recognition of faith at the ceremony tomorrow, and was curious if you would be attending with your brethren.” Ah, it’s to be an ambush then, Kathranis thought. A public ousting. He wasn’t about to deny his goddess on a public stage though, and his response was said with a light tone, as if the matter being thrown into the public eye wasn’t a concern at all. “What my brethren do and don’t do is there own choice, although I think you will find several that now match my faith. As for the rest, I suggest you take up the matter with them. I am not the kind of leader that would force the guidance of their heart.” He smiled just slightly, relaxing his posture. “That being said, if you would be willing to host my goddess and I during your ceremony, I would be more than happy to watch. My interest in learning about your faith is still as pure in purpose as it ever was, and Fordred would want me to be there should he participate. The choosing of one’s faith is no small thing.” He spread his hands. “But if I am unwanted, I will not force my way in. Lady Sylvanus promotes unity as much as can be borne. If that means I spend my time in prayer away from anyone else, so be it. I am at ease with isolation.” “All are welcome in Harmony’s house,” Scylla said with narrowed eyes. “To attempt otherwise would be blasphemy against her every principle.” Kathranis flashed a smile and bowed low, a hand across his chest. “Then I shall attend good Queen. I hope to learn much, to bring our goddesses together. I think Harmony would appreciate a friend that is her equal.” Those words were dangerous, he knew that. He loved his Lady, but even she would be among the first to admit that she was far from being Harmony’s equal. Any goddess who had been alone for millennia was peerless, was powerful enough to make anyone feel like an ant, even a mighty Faerun goddess. An uncontested religion sitting for who knew how long was equally as dangerous, but though her beak was twisted in an irritated grin, Scylla’s words were still even, far more than he thought they would be at least. “Perhaps,” she said. “I’m sure if such a thing were possible, Harmony would be overjoyed. We shall see, shall we not?” Kathranis recognized the official olive branch, even as the air began to cool. His mere mention of a “foreign” goddess had likely stirred the same sort of demonic dribble the queen had first thrown at him, but here, for all to see, was a public recognition that she would be personally handling him and his goddess. The ambush he thought it was was actually an attempt to curb nasty rumors that may lead to mistrust. A public ousting and a public handling he could stand behind. Using “we” was a nice touch, one he had to follow in his reply. “Indeed we shall, good Queen,” he said. “If there will be nothing else however…?” He looked between the gryphon king and queen, and when neither spoke, he nodded and turned. “Come along then good Prince. We have some scouting to do.” ***** Kathranis tried to ignore the rustling of Secil in the tree above as he lay in the dirt with a gryphon on either side. They sat at the edge of the dense forests that still reigned supreme outside the walls of Stonetalon Peak, and so far as he could tell, the only reason the forest ended here was because of the Thayans. There were dozens of empty holes where he imagined trees used to be, but he didn’t understand why the Thayans were spending time removing stumps, especially given the nature of their fortifications. The elf watched as a wizard draped in red hovered in the air, arcane sigils faintly glowing around him. Though they were too far away to hear anything, Kathranis knew the man was speaking as he waved his hands around. The earth shook for a moment, then a mass of dirt and stone ripped free from the ground, floating toward the man. More hand waving caused all of the dirt and excess stone to fall back into the newly created hole, while the newly carved square of solid rock floated onto an incomplete section of the towering walls. “I guess we know how they’re doing all of this so quickly now,” Valan muttered. “It’s rather clever, making a moat and a wall at the same time,” Kathranis said. “What surprises me is the wizards doing manual labor. They take slaves for that, they’d even make the soldiers do it before they lifted a finger, so what are they so afraid of to so demean themselves?” Zefuris shot a look his direction. “And you allied with these creatures?” Kathranis sighed. “Lesser of two evils I’m afraid, but they knew better than to conduct any abuses around my brethren and I, so if nothing else, we reduced their vicious nature with our presence. In the face of an army of undeath, it was enough.” Zefuris grunted, then looked back across the field. “Just so long as you don’t try to introduce that behavior here. We get enough hassle from the ponies.” Kathranis blinked, then looked toward the armored gryphon. “I had heard tale about warmongering, but what else do the ponies do? Princess Luna seems a kind, if mildly irritable, sort.” Instead of looking toward him, Zefuris looked toward Valan with a scowl. “I thought you were supposed to be educating Master Shadowsong.” Valan shrugged. “Aquila’s been saying she would set something up, and it’s only been a couple days. He’s hardly going to be up to date on every little bit of world history.” “He’s a brand new ally, and he’s your responsibility,” Zefuris growled. “Is a few measly days enough for you to forget the significance of a life debt?” He snorted in disgust and looked back to the field as the red wizard carved up another block of stone. “I am ashamed that I thought you’d finally started to stop being just a petulant child.” Valan’s wings drooped, and he looked toward the ground in shame. Kathranis reached out and patted his shoulder, drawing him to eye contact. “It’s no problem good Prince, you have been performing well, keeping me safe and making sure that I’ve been recovering from injuries while slowly introducing me to the world at large. I can appreciate an approach where I’m not overwhelmed with information.” His eyes flicked up to Zefuris. “I’m sure your father would be proud that you silently accepted this dangerous mission without complaint.” Valan didn’t look back to the other gryphon, seemingly knew that that would be too obvious. He did, however, perk up slightly, waiting on Zefuris to reply. The armored gryphon huffed. “He definitely noticed the lack of complaining,” he said with a grumble. He met Kathranis’ eyes, and the elf tilted his head slightly, prompting him to continue. Zefuris snarled at him. “I will not assist you in coddling the whelp. He needs to learn strength if he ever hopes to live up to the shadow of his father’s crown, let alone to the burden of actually wearing it.” “If strength was all that were required to rule, then perhaps you’d better go bow down to the Thayans,” Kathranis said, extending a hand toward the red wizard. “Because I can assure you, lifting stones is far from the limit of their strength.” To Valan he said; “You are still young, and learning. Do not strive for perfection in every task; it will only lead to a concern for failure that will cause failures uncountable. Just keep trying to be better. That is all anyone can ask of you.” Valan managed a weak grin to match Kathranis’ smile, and though his eyes flicked again to Zefuris, he seemed more comfortable with not having the gryphon’s approval. “I guess to answer your question, Blademaster, the ponies have been known to keep humans as slaves.” He motioned to the red wizard. “But our humans are nothing like yours. Ours cannot do magic, can’t even speak anything but their own little grunting language.” “They’re barely better than boars,” Zefuris grumbled. “Though they can be more dangerous in packs, and don’t have enough meat to consider hunting.” “I am choosing to ignore the thought of eating other humanoid creatures and instead ask this; are the ponies cruel? Do the humans of your world live like people, or like beasts, or something less?” Valan shrugged. “I only visited a pony city once, and from my understanding, it was fairly small. From what I saw, they just used them as free labor.” “It’s as mixed as I expect your humans treat their slaves,” Zefuris said. “Humans are not the same as the rest of us that walk on two legs. They don’t build, they don’t love. They breed and they hunt, and that is all. They are like wolves, save for the fact that they are far easier to tame.” He shrugged. "It is much like the whelp said; they are mostly free labor. Just smart enough to pull a cart or lift a stone, just stupid enough to not cause problems when they're whipped." “Then why does Stonetalon Peak not have humans?” Kathranis asked. “If they are no more than dogs, it should not be so great a sin to use them.” Zefuris frowned. “Perhaps it is pride, or perhaps the mere horror of the thought, but gryphons do not take slaves. We have prisoners, we have criminals, but we do not take slaves. Criminals can be rehabilitated or executed. Prisoners can be sold to their mother nation or turned to serve the crown. A slave?” He shuddered, his wings shifting with a squashed urge to flap. “A useful slave has to be broken down to nothing, and once you’ve hit that point, that creature is never anything more than a slave.” “You have experience,” Kathranis stated. Zefuris’s head slowly turned. “I am a warrior, Blademaster. I am old enough to have fought the Warlords, and I saw what they were capable of before their change of heart. Just because the whelp beside you wasn’t born yet, doesn’t mean their change to “princesses” isn’t recent.” He turned back to the field. “The Warlords had to rebuild the kingdoms they crushed, and since ponies were either dead or needed for more wars, they made slaves of all their enemies. It’s why King Terran made a show of eating a pony general when they enslaved a village the first time.” His scowl grew darker. “I knew some of the guards of that village, and they devoured the next pony they met. There was nothing left inside them, just instinct, and when their king set a standard, they were all too keen to follow, especially since it meant killing what they saw as their abusers.” He shuddered again. “We don’t play intimidation games like that anymore for good reason.” Kathranis nodded, his face slightly green. “I think that’s for the best,” he said. “It unease's you to hear that we ate a pony?” Zefuris asked, side-eyeing the elf. “It should unease you to speak of it,” Kathranis said. “I’ve done equally horrifying things, but speaking of them is a torment. I assume that anyone I talk to about such matters is put ill-at-ease.” “Then you should be wary, Blademaster, because gryphons are a hardy stock that do not shy away from horrors.” Kathranis’ eyes narrowed, even as Valan spoke out. “Zefuris, stop. It’s not your place, and my father would not appreciate you calling our ally a coward.” “He’s not our ally yet, and I am the King’s Guard,” Zefuris barked. “My place will always involve curbing the foolishness of the royal whelps.” “Keep your voice down,” Kathranis hissed. “And more importantly, what in the Lady’s name are you talking about? What foolishness has occurred aside from you calling me weak? Do remember, Zefuris, that I saved you from those “boar”-ish humans of yours, and I did so without fear or difficulty.” “I am talking about the games you play with Princess Aquila,” Zefuris growled. “Don’t play ignorant. The castle is alive with rumor about what you and that girl have been up to.” Something about his words caused Kathranis’ eye to twitch, and he matched the large gryphon’s snarl with one of his own. “Aquila is a fine princess, and you of all people should know better than to demean her. Furthermore, King’s Guard, our friendship is no concern of yours, especially given the fact that it is her treatment that has had me keep my people in Stonetalon Peak instead of retreating to a safe place to think on what lies ahead. I’d suggest you leave Princess Aquila’s business to Princess Aquila.” Kathranis looked to the red wizard who still hovered, carving up another massive block of stone. The elf couldn’t drive away the irritation Zefuris had caused to well up inside of him however. “I’ve seen enough,” he snarled. He then crawled backward, getting to his feet as soon as there was additional cover between him and the Thayan camp. Rustling in the bushes was quick to follow, and a few wing flaps helped Zefuris to get out in front of the elf. Kathranis paused as the gryphon blocked his path, a mildly sympathizing look on his face. “Blademaster, I apologize for my words,” Zefuris said. “I was wrong to believe your relationship with Aquila a game.” Just as Kathranis relaxed slightly and opened his mouth to speak, Zefuris continued. “My point still stands however. Everyone speaks about the pair of you, and I am offering this warning; back away. Princess Aquila needs to find a proper gryphon suitor, and Queen Scylla will tolerate no less.” Kathranis blinked at the gryphon, then his face curled once more into a snarl. “Then I again ask; what in the Lady’s name are you talking about? Aquila isn’t trying to bed me, she’s trying to win me over, a task she was easily succeeding in until you insulting me, until you started speaking of suitors when she is nothing more than a good friend.” Kathranis stalked forward, grazing the gryphon’s feathers as he brushed past. “I again suggest you leave the princess’s business to herself, as all you’re succeeding in doing is mucking it up.” Perhaps he should have remained quieter, should have kept track of his steps, but Kathranis found that he didn’t care for silent steps at the moment. He stormed through the forest, not caring if the pair of gryphons were at his back, or rather, the gryphon. He held no anger toward Valan, in fact pitied the young gryphon. If Zefuris was the one teaching him every life lesson, of course he had grown immature! More than likely the young prince was smothered under the weight of “protection”, never allowed to make mistakes, never allowed to actually grow into his own man. While part of him was resolved to fix that, to help Valan grow into a fine young gryphon, Kathranis found himself still fuming on Zefuris’ comments on Aquila’s friendship… because was he wrong? Was he truly acting the role of a suitor? Was he growing enemies when his people needed every ally available? He had thought gryphons just overly friendly, a touch more physical than other races, yet it was only Aquila who was such. Her and Deyenidal, who was actively pursuing Fordred… Kathranis shook off the thought and marched into a new one as Secil dropped from the trees and fell in step beside him. He would ask. It was that simple. He would ask, and likely make a fool of himself, but that was the only way to make sure he didn’t risk what little he had so far guaranteed for his people. Depending on how she answered… He wasn’t quite sure what he wanted the answer to be. On one hand, he wanted to be right, wanted to prove to Zefuris and any other doubters that she was merely acting from a strong position, that she was merely being the best princess the gryphon kingdom could hope for. In that light she was far stronger, far more selfless, and few things could make him happier than to see her as such a true, brilliant friend. One of those things, however, was the potential for the other answer. The thought wouldn’t leave him alone. He enjoyed her embrace, and deep in his thoughts was a wish for more. He was aware of the danger of such thoughts, was aware that he would outlive the gryphoness, was aware that he would likely have to forsake his position as Blademaster, unless his people agreed to stay with him, but picturing Aquila… She was beautiful, she was intelligent, and clever and strong-willed, just like Zefuris said. With a blush, Kathranis found that he wouldn’t mind being with such a woman, even if he would lose much to gain her hand. She respected his goddess however, and that would be enough. Huron at already taken steps to become Blademaster anyway, it was a natural conclusion to when they thought him dead. Yes, he would ask, and what came, he was prepared for. As his thoughts drifted toward the more likely of the two answers, however, Kathranis found that he felt less prepared than he would have liked.