//------------------------------// // Chapter 9 - Uncomfortable Discoveries // Story: Bad Mondays // by Handyman //------------------------------// Handy started his morning by throwing up. So you can tell already how the rest of his day was going to be. It was the final leg of the journey to the city of Skymount, the King’s seat of Gethrenia, the day the King would pen the letter demanding an explanation of Celestia, and the train had taken one last stop. Honestly, the view was beautiful – soaring mountains, tall, dark, pine forests and deep, lush valleys so far below, punctuated by hamlets and farmland, all with that crisp mountain fresh air and that invigorating morning chill that woke up the senses. Handy could not enjoy it, however. He excused himself from the group as they washed in a stream that flowed under the train tracks up ahead of their stop. Quite frankly, he could do with a wash, for he hadn’t had the chance to shower in over a week now. His little shindig with the royal guard and a creature that looked like it belong on a Magic: The Gathering card had left him with quite the sweat. And that was before the cold sweats and illness he had felt ever since. He had kept a brave face on and tried to hide his weakness as best he could in front of his feathery companions. He still crouched over and gripped his stomach from time to time, so they already suspected he was not the healthiest he could be. They just didn’t know how bad. He had been an appreciable distance from the griffons when his body started to shake uncontrollably, his will barely keeping him together. He felt the bile rising up and his head spun. Hurriedly, he reached up to tug his helmet off as coughs started wracking his body and he retched. He just got it off just soon enough for him to spill his guts on the pine needles and dirt of the forest floor. It was a sickening colour, bright orange mixed with a filthy-looking brown slime. He retched again and once more spilled his guts. He coughed and fell on his side, breathing desperately. He rolled over onto his back and sidled up to a nearby rock, trying to at least sit up but only coming at his goal halfway. His head swirled, his stomach rebelled, and he considered the implications of what had happened. He knew what he did. He also knew that it was the salve he ingested that robbed him of his senses – he was clear sighted enough to blame his actions on that. It couldn’t be his fault, for he’d never willingly bite someone’s neck. Could he? His thoughts recalled those dark ruminations that had flooded his mind after he had ingested the salve. He wasn’t quite sure he would like the answer to that question if he dug into it deep enough. Still, he could not help but think of it. The taste, it had been smoky like whiskey, but it had also tasted… bright? It reminded him of the smell of freshly cut grass after the rain. It was strange, but the power, the invigorating thrill of it! He had bitten the pony in a fit of vindictive spite, but what he had gained from it had been… exhilarating. He had tasted blood before, his own too, being taught to suck on a cut to prevent infection long enough for it to be plastered. Another time was when his cousin had taken him on a hunting trip and he had partaken of the blood of a stag. Not the nicest thing in the world, but not horrible, and certainly not anything like the blood he had tasted that night. A dark possibility came across him as he looked up. The sun poked through the tall pines and his armour shone, the parts not still covered in ectoplasm that was. He rotated his jaw. What if… What if that bite the pony had given him… had done something to him? He started to sweat again. What if it wasn’t the momentary lapse in judgement brought on by the salve that had caused him to bite that pony. What if… He shook his head weakly. It didn’t bear thinking about, but he could not rid himself of the worrying possibility. No, he was here. The sun was shining upon him, so he was not a vampire. He couldn’t be. He still needed to eat, sleep, and could feel. Surely he was not now an abomination that haunted the shadows of the mind of mankind? He wasn’t an undead horror. He was here in the sun after all! ‘So was she…,’ Handy realised, recalling the bat mare on the train when he had been interrogated. She hadn’t seemed bothered by the sunlight. The nervousness returned. He didn’t… feel any compulsion. There was no need to feed, and he certainly didn’t look at his compatriots as a piece of meat. Although… what did he know? Those ponies were vampires and didn’t seem to obey the rules the folklore and popular fiction he knew about vampires seemed to indicate. How could he be sure? He was perturbed. On an intellectual basis, he had always hated vampires. They did represent, symbolically, the Antichrist after all. Or at least that was Bram Stoker’s intention when he had put pen to Dracula, and pop culture had run with that undercurrent ever since. Now… he was one… or he might be. Another possibility hit him. What if what the vampony blood just had that effect on humans naturally when they ingested it? That would… be marginally better. He considered it. Perhaps World of Darkness logic applied here? It was as good a guide as any he had. Perhaps vampony blood just had inherent power? Hell if he knew – this world was bursting at the seams with magic. Anything was potentially possible. He then considered the pony he had fought, the one that had basically robbed him of his blood. She had kept up with him easily and had been much more powerful than her fellows. Evidently blood gave the vamponies a power boost, which only raised more questions. Why didn’t all of them drink blood before engaging in the fight? ‘Maybe it was just your blood that did that…’ He didn’t like that thought. It meant he had something the vampires wanted that they couldn’t get elsewhere. Fortunately for him, and he licked his lips at the thought, the position was mutually held. His eyes widened. What the hell was he thinking!? He gripped the side of his head. No, it couldn’t be true. He was overreacting. He would test this. Once he got to the city, he would… do something. Perhaps get some meat, bloody and raw and see… see if he was right. He shakily got to his feet as he trudged back through the forest towards the stream. He partook of the clean water, enjoying its purity as he washed his face. He looked at his armour as he scrubbed some of the goop off. There were scratches, but that was to be expected. There were also light dents here or there from the fight. He frowned. He would have to get those buffed out when he had the time, for he certainly had the coin. He went back to meet with Joachim and the other griffons, smiling as he held the helmet under his arm. “Feeling better?” Joachim asked. “No,” Handy admitted. “But honestly, that’s to be expected.” Joachim grimaced, looking over his shoulder to ensure the other birds were out of earshot. “In all seriousness,” he turned to look at Handy, “I am disappointed in you.” He was frowning and giving Handy a hard glare. “I do not regret holding you to your oath. You promised me, Handy.” He stiffened, angry at Joachim, but he withheld it. He was right after all. “They bit me,” he said. “They did,” Joachim said, “and that was against their laws. The night ponies strictly punish their own from drinking from living creatures. It is almost unheard of for them to bite others, even enemies.” Handy scowled. “If they’re still dangerous, why do the princesses employ them?” “Because they’re dangerous,” Joachim responded. “Kind of why Ivorybeak hired you in the first place, remember?” Handy nodded, conceding the point. “They make good soldiers, as you found out.” Handy couldn’t really justify his actions. He confessed to drinking the salve then, desperate to recover his blood loss and get back into the fight. He recounted the experience to Joachim. “Then I certainly won’t be drinking it. Still doesn’t excuse you.” “No… No, I suppose it does not,” Handy admitted. “Still, I don’t know why they’d risk accidentally turning other ponies into vampires…” Joachim raised his eyebrow at that. “Well… Ever since I was bitten, I was… worried. Back home, we have legends of vampires. Sometimes... Sometimes being bit by a vampire turns you into one, an undead monstrosity.” Joachim looked amused at that. “The night ponies can’t do that.” Handy was relieved at that. “The only way to become like them is to be born as one of them. They are hardly undead.” “So… Why did I get a boost of power from drinking their blood in turn?” Handy asked. Joachim didn’t have an answer for him. “Why did the one pony who did drink from me become so strong?” “Well, it’s well known that they get power from blood. It’s a great temptation, hence the law against it. They’ve been taking potions for centuries, paid for by the Equestrian state.” “As powerful as the one who drank from me?” “I don’t know… I don’t think so.” Handy felt uneasy. Joachim then shook his head dismissively. “You’re overthinking this.” See? Even Joachim agreed with your denial, Handy. Listen to the wise princeling. “It’ll be fine. You feel the need to latch on to anypony’s – excuse me, anygriffon’s – neck and suck them dry?” “No…” “Then you’re fine. Come on now,” Joachim said, walking back to the train. Handy made to follow but stopped. He sniffed the air. “Ow, dang it!” He turned to face the voice. It was Hirsild. She had cut her side on an errant piece of wood from the wall of the shelter by this mountain stop, a mere five feet away from him. She was gripping the cut and hissing. Handy stared. She looked up, and Handy snapped out of his trance and hurriedly put his helmet on, marching back to the train without a word. --=-- He stayed in one of the most intact sleeping cabins for the rest of the journey, the griffons downstairs conversing and eating breakfast. Handy would rather not be down there right now, not after what happened with Hirsild. The wind rushed past the window and it was cold, but there was bugger all that could be done with it. He was thankful the cabin came with a door that actually closed. The cot was too small for him as always, but he was sitting up against the wall on it, thinking. He had taken off his breastplate, helmet, and pauldrons and wore his heavy cloak over him. It was practically all encompassing and warm. He felt warmth against his chest and reached below his chainmail and pulled out the pendant. It was a teardrop-shaped jewel on a chain of tarnished gold, nearly black in colour. The gem pulsated softly. It felt warm at random moments but he never paid it any mind. It was magic – shit happened. “I wonder why you let me keep this…” The gem pulsed. Handy thought back to the changelings. He was still not fond of the bastards, but the night ponies occupied a higher tier on his shit list. And he did still feel bad for what he did to the Queen. He tried not thinking about how good the meat of the pod tasted. Or how her blood might taste. “For what it’s worth, I do regret my actions.” The gem pulsed lowly then seemed to grow dim. Handy twirled it about before him absentmindedly. His brow furrowed. Drinking, drugs, what the hell was he doing? He was slowly, systematically, becoming a worse person the longer he stayed here. Granted, he was having the adventure of a lifetime but still… “The hell am I doing?” he said to himself. “Talking to a gem. What am I, a diamond dog?” The gem pulsed brightly. “It’s not as if you can hear me anyway.” The gem pulsed twice. Handy froze. He slowly sat up and stared hard at the pendant before him, looking at it hard. It didn’t pulse. “Hello?” The gem pulsed lowly, and the hairs on Handy’s neck slowly began to stand on end. The gem pulsed, brighter this time. Handy’s eyes slowly widened. “Can… you hear me?” The gem pulsed brightly. “Two pulses for yes, one for no.” The gem pulsed twice in rapid succession. Handy jumped the fuck out of his skin. He stood up and was quiet for some time. He narrowed his eyes at the gem. “Chrysalis?” The gem pulsed twice. --=-- The queen laughed. It had taken him long enough. She was reclining in her chambers, watching the crystal orb before her. Honestly, it had been the best entertainment she had had in years. Her curiosity with the strange creature had overran her hatred of it when she had it at her mercy. She had let it escape with the gem she had uncovered from the old throne room, knowing the gem could remotely view through the eyes of its wearer, allowing her to see what the wearer saw and speak into their minds and plant suggestions there. It was a shame it would not also let one read what was in there too. It didn’t work with the Pale One, however. Well, not entirely. She could still see through his eyes when he wore the pendant. Otherwise, she was left viewing from the gem’s perspective when he was not wearing it, making the times when the pendant was in the bag or merely held in somepony’s hands quite boring. She wasn’t entirely sure what she had expected when she let the human go with it. She had wanted to learn more, sure, but she had also relished in the possibility of seeing him suffer in the desert. Alas, he had not, and a part of her had been disappointed, but that part soon ceased existing altogether. The human had survived the desert, and she had followed him on his various shenanigans. The situations this human ended up in! She dearly wished she could taste his emotions – impotent anger had such a pleasant tang to it. She had brought in favoured courtiers to observe the fight with the minotaur. That had been a good afternoon’s entertainment. However, she had found herself intrigued as the human travelled with the griffons, not least of such caused by his strange act of mercy shown to the captive changelings. She wasn’t sure what motivated that action, and she could not tell, neither able to see the creature’s mind nor taste its emotions. That had caught her attention. It had come to a head when she learned he was wanted by the regal sisters and the incident at the border with the griffons… Well, that had been just delicious. It had been terrifying when he fell upon the guard pony, and Chrysalis had been uncomfortably reminded of how close she herself came to those teeth, yes, but delicious. She could not believe the sisters would do something like that! She was busy penning a letter to send to them, the first she had sent in some time. The last she had sent was one Hearth’s Warming Eve when she had been spectacularly drunk and felt like venting. She had looked up as Handy started talking to the pendant, and a wide smile broke across her face. The look on his face! Occasionally the pendant would glow when she was looking through it, responding to her own reactions: shock, laughter, and the rest. She dearly wished he could hear her. The things she would say! --=-- Handy glared hard at the gem. “How much can you see?” --=-- Chrysalis rubbed a hoof on her chin, smiling all the while. Her horn glowed. --=-- The gem pulsed three times. Handy’s face was stone. He shook violently. He reached out the window, the gem hanging by his hand. The pendant pulsed rapidly. “It’s rude to stare, you know,” Handy said. “Have a good one, your Majesty.” Handy dropped the pendant. Handy reclined once more on the cot, trying very hard not to think about the fact that the fae queen had been spying on him this entire time. He closed his eyes to try to catch some rest. This was not turning out to be a good day at all. Several minutes later, there was a knock at his cabin door. “It’s open,” Handy called. Joachim entered. “Hey, Handy.” He raised his claw. Handy looked at what he held and deflated. “I was just airing my wing out the window downstairs when this hit it.” He held up the pendant. Handy glared at the griffon, wide-eyed. “I mean, it is a trophy with quite a story behind it. You should be more careful.” He lobbed the pendant at Handy, who caught it reluctantly. Handy’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, trying to find words to shout his defiance of this absurdity. What was he going to do? ‘Hey Joachim, the royal guard wanted to arrest me because they thought I was a spy for the changeling Queen. Oh, by the way, turns out I actually was and had no idea until now. Crazy, huh?’ “Thanks Joachim,” Handy said, an incredibly fake smile gracing his features as he reaffixed the pendant about his neck. Joachim seemed to believe him and smiled back. “Now don’t go about losing that. You’re gonna be asked a lot of questions at the feast.” “Feast?” “It’s Gethrenia – there’s always a feast.” Handy stared disbelievingly. “We’ll be arriving in an hour, so you should get ready,” Joachim said as he left the cabin. Handy waited until he was sure he was out of earshot. He looked down at the pendant. “Not. A. Word,” he warned. There was a moment of silence as the pendant remained dull, then began rapidly pulsing. “OH FUCK OFF!” Handy said, stuffing the pendant under his mail as he sat back on his cot in a huff. Fucking changelings. --=--- “MY SIDES!” The Queen fell over, laughing uproariously. “My Queen!” A pair of guards entered her chambers. “We heard a loud… My Queen?” The pair of guards stared at their sovereign rolling about on the floor, laughing maniacally. Slowly, one hoof after the other, they backed out of the room and closed the door behind them. --=-- Handy was impressed. The city lay three quarters across a valley between two soaring mountains. The two sides of the mountains facing each other had castles and structures build upon them all the way down to lowtown in the valley below where the city was bisected by a river. The tan buildings and rich brown roofing accented by dark stone work were stark against the light greys of the mountains and the greens and blues of the valley and sky. They had gotten a good look at it outside their carriage windows as the train rounded a bend and descended the mountain into the valley. The place was swarming with griffons. It was then, however, that Ivorybeak took them aside as the rest of the passengers left the train talking eagerly with fondly missed family members and friends as the train began to be unloaded. Handy overheard the griffons talking about the attack by the ponies and something about a ‘Nightbane’. He didn’t care because Ivorybeak finally told them the real reason he had been sent to fetch Johan. Gerhart was dying. The news hit Joachim hard. Handy looked down at the griffon. His face was a mix of emotions, and he recognised the expression too well. He placed an armoured gauntlet on Joachim’s shoulder for solidarity. The king had taken ill not long after Joachim had left. He was an old griffon nearing seventy winters, a venerable age, and his dying wish was to see his prodigal son one last time before he died. Handy now understood why a stuck up fop like Ivorybeak had been willing to slum it in Pawstown while searching for Joachim. They had made a striking ensemble as they walked through the streets, Hirsild taking their gear with her to store them, including Handy’s packs. A quartet of armoured griffons had descended on them at the train station, offering to escort his Highness to his father. They took exception to Handy, for obvious reasons, but held back after Johan raised a claw to calm their fears, indicating Handy was his servant and bodyguard, allowing him to keep his weapon. Handy was grateful but did not voice anything. Joachim was in a delicate state and he dared not say anything that could upset him. It was a long lonely walk up to the castle on the far side of low town, the district on the far side of the river closest to the castle known for being lower than the rest of the city before the steep climb to the castle. The griffons were abuzz with news and rumours of the prince’s return and the manner of his arrival, and they crowded the streets and rooftops as they passed. Handy ignored this, keeping an eye instead on potential threats. He did have a job to do after all, and he’d rather not see his friend in such a state and thus kept his eyes off of Joachim as they marched. There was some cheering at Johan’s return, but it was muted. Handy noticed the black banners draped across official-looking buildings, black bows on the street lights, and the general subdued atmosphere of city. A people mourned, for their father was dying. The trek to the upper city and into the castle was an equally sombre affair. The purple and gold banners of Gethrenia fluttered in the breeze alongside their black doppelgangers. The halls of the castle were spectacular in their own way. Serving griffons nobles and officials parted to make way for Johan. The servants were humble enough, but Handy did not care for the looks the nobility gave Johan. They eventually made their way to the king’s chambers. There were rather a lot of servants, formally dressed griffons, and guards of all sorts outside the king’s door. It felt like walking into a hospital ward and meeting the family of a dying man as you passed by his room. Handy took his place by an empty spot by the wall as Johan made his way to the door. He knew he was getting looks but didn’t care. He was here on Joachim’s dime… after a fashion, so they could well and truly keep their beaks shut. Joachim opened the door and entered the dark chambers of his father. The door closed, and Handy was left in the uncomfortable silence of the antechamber. --=-- “Johan?” “I’m here.” He shuffled forward. The king shifted in his covers. “Come over here.” Dying or not, his voice had never lost that hard edge Johan was so used to. He came over by the bedside and saw his father’s grasping claw. He reached up to hold onto it. “There… There… How have you been, Johan?” “… Good. I’ve been… good.” A moment of silence passed between them, and he heard his father let out a shuddering breath, the darkness of the room near complete. “You never should have left… Why did you go?” he asked. “I missed you.” Something caught in Joachim’s throat. “I… Th… I’m sorry…” He felt his father smile. “No… No, it’s fine… You’re here now… where you belong. You’re home… I was so worried. Your mother would have had me call the levies.” He heard his father chuckle mirthfully. “You have her eyes you know, did I ever tell you that?” Joachim could no longer hold back his tears, hoping his father would not see them in the dark. “No… Tell me again what was she like?” “Ah….” His claw tightened about Joachim’s. “She was a radiant beauty, strong and fast, but that’s not what caught my eye… That’s…” He trailed off. “I am sorry, Johan… I am so sorry… I should never have given permission… I should have seen…” “Father?” Joachim looked up. The king did not respond immediately. “How could I have not seen it…? He’s a tyrant… As soon as he was named crown prince… The things he does… The abuses… You must press your right, Johan… Please.” “Father, I—” The claw gripped tighter. “Listen! You will do this one thing! You will press the right of retrieval. It’s the kingdom’s only chance. I made a grave mistake… A grave…” There was a sound of shouts and shuffling paws outside. The door opened. “Ah, brother!” Joachim’s face became as iron. “Geoffrey.” The arrogant runt of a griffon entered the room, the light pouring in from outside seeming harsh and cruel, intruding rudely on this private space. Two griffon guards entered the room and flanked either side of the doorway as Geoffrey went to the far side of the bed and casually opened a pair of curtains. The feathers on the back of Joachim’s neck rose as he shook with rage. How dare he!? This was the king’s own chambers! “What are y—?” “Hmm?” Geoffrey responded, his black feathered face and grey shadows about his eyes striking at the sun hit his feathers. “Oh, you’re still here? I figured you’d run off at the sight of me yet again. You really should not disturb father. He does so ever need his rest these days.” Joachim ground his teeth. Speaking as if their father were not here before them! He looked at the door. A guard had filled the doorway, with Handy at his back. “Sorry, Highness, Majesty, he just…” the guard tried to apologise. He took one look at the cruel gaze Geoffrey levelled at him and knew he’d regret speaking like he did. He withdrew. Handy, reluctantly, followed him. Joachim looked at his father. The king was covered in his robes, and his face obscured by a great shawl which rose and fell with his breath. His wings, once mighty and proud, were shrivelled and moulting. He had changed so much since he last saw him. Where was the giant? The seeming immortal he had looked up to all his life? Where was his strength? Was this what time did to him? What it does to them all… “Yes, quite.” Geoffrey turned back to his brother and smiled. There was no warmth nor welcome in the expression. “I suppose you came to get some of your thing. You’re a tad late – I had your room cleaned out.” Joachim fumed but kept his peace. He felt his father tighten his grip… Was that fear? “Geoffrey…” Joachim began again. “It’s… good to see you again,” he lied. Geoffrey looked at him in surprise before he laughed. “Oh I understand, it is always good to see me of course, that’s probably why.” Geoffrey preened and idly inspected his right claw. “But really, I’m afraid I must insist you leave. I need to have words with father dearest.” Joachim did not want to let go of his father’s claw. Geoffrey waited for a moment before looking up, his smile disappearing. “Well?” The king loosened his grip and let Joachim’s hand go. He looked at his father, not wanting to move. Geoffrey snapped his fingers. The two guards moved forward and, in an action that elicited a gasp of surprise from the king and the onlookers outside the room, Joachim was lifted bodily and thrown from the room. Handy reached for his friend to help him up. “I’m fine!” he protested, pulling himself away from his servant. “I’m fine. I just… come with me.” He indicated to Handy. He obeyed and followed Joachim out of the room, his black cloak trailing behind him as his hooded helmet turned to look back at where they came from. Joachim led them both through the castle for some time until they were quite possibly on the far side of it. Joachim opened a door and entered a richly decorated drawing room. Joachim let loose his rage. Handy stood back in shock as Joachim began overthrowing tables and ripping apart cushions and generally wrecking the place, screeching curses. “How dare he!? HOW DARE HE!?” He lifted a sofa in a display of rage-fuelled strength and threw it at a wall. Handy had to rush out of the way. “You!” he said, pointing at Handy. Handy stood, not sure of what he should say. “I can trust you, right? I can rely on you, can’t I, Handy?” he asked. Handy took a second to answer. “Ah… Of course. Wha—” “You’re an outsider here. Geoffrey doesn’t have his claws in you. I can trust you, I can only trust you… and my poor father.” “Joachim, are you alri—” “No I am not alright!” Joachim’s shouted, wings flared. “I just saw the mightiest griffon I have ever known in my life reduced to a pathetic wretch who could barely speak. I saw my brother, a sneaky degenerate, treat him like a piece of meat, throwing me from the very room!” Joachim’s shouted. Handy really had nothing to say to this. What could he have? “I can’t believe I share his blood with that creature!” He panted. Handy walked over to the door, opening it to look around outside. There was a concerned-looking maid who was heading towards the room. One look at Handy, and she made do with turning right back around and walking off. He closed the door and walked over to Joachim. “Joachim, you need to calm down.” “Calm? What would you do if your father was treated like that?” Joachim shot back. Handy flinched. “A lot of things,” Handy said, biting his tongue. “But if I was in a position where doing something about it could endanger others, I wouldn’t go off shouting my intent.” Joachim breathed hard but began to see reason. Joachim clasped his head, and Handy was surprised to see him crying. That was an awkward situation to be in, but he knew well enough to let Joachim be alone. He excused himself to spare his dignity and stood outside while Joachim let it out, his own thoughts playing in his head, piecing together what he had learned. --=-- The servants did not eat before their lords. Handy stood against the wall with the other guards and servants. As an insult, Geoffrey had given orders that no servant was to serve Johan. Johan was not told this. Handy just learned it second hand, being the only one there who owed allegiance directly to Joachim first and everyone else never. Handy had been Joachim’s waiter and took care of the duties of delivery, cleaning, and the refilling of goblets. The servants got used to the bipedal armoured human taking dishes and wine jars from them through the night. Under most circumstances, he would have resented the servile position he had taken, but the tense air of the castle that he’d picked up on since arriving and Joachim’s outburst made him rethink his priorities and had resolved to do everything he could to help Joachim in whatever mess this was. Geoffrey had been giving him malignant looks throughout the night, and he often saw the guards of the room shift uncomfortably. Handy did not like this situation. It was literally only him and Joachim in the heart of a hostile castle ruled by a spiteful little brother. Apologies, that would be elder. Handy was surprised to learn Geoffrey was, in fact, older than Joachim by at least ten years. “Enjoy?” Geoffrey asked from the head of the table. The gathered nobles and courtiers knew better than to answer, for that the question was directed at Johan, who ironically was not seated at the far end to the table. In fact, he was seated just to the left of it for the sake of awkwardness. The insult did not escape anybody. “It was excellent,” Joachim said. “The chef has my compliments.” The smile shrank on Geoffrey’s visage. ‘Easy, Joach,’ Handy thought. ‘You don’t poke the lion in his own den.’ “He does his duty,” Geoffrey said, waving his hand. A servant came over and handed him a warm towel, which he snatched. The serving girl flinched and shrunk as she retreated. “As should we all, don’t you think, brother dearest?” Joachim’s grip tightened on his goblet. “Of course,” he said. Geoffrey’s eye twitched at Joachim’s lack of honorific when replying to the crown prince. ‘Easy….,’ Handy thought, sensing the tension in the atmosphere. ‘Easy now…’ “Now that you are back, we can finally put you to good use,” Geoffrey said, clearing his throat. “We have need of a new fool at court." Several of the courtiers flinched, while some of them looked relieved. Joachim didn’t react. From what Handy had been told, he supposed he had expected something like this. “The last several did not last nearly enough. Stress of the job, after all.” “Several?” Joachim asked, genuinely curious. Geoffrey raised an eyebrow at him. “…Highness,” Joachim added as if he had swallowed something sour. “What happened to Simon the Lame?” “He lost the use of his other wing,” Geoffrey said casually. “The next had a tragic fall, the other a run in with the fireplace.” The courtiers squirmed, and Joachim’s grip tightened. Handy looked to where Ivorybeak sat in the centre of the table, his attention focused squarely on his drink. “It has been so dull. We had to find other means of entertainment…” The look on Ivorybeak’s face was pained. Geoffrey smiled lightly as he turned his face back to Joachim. “Do you like dogs, brother?” “Pardon, Highness?” Joachim responded, unsure. “I was just considering the company you keep to nowadays. Honestly, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” Handy’s grip tightened on his left gauntlet, having been standing there with one hand clasped over the other. Joachim grit his teeth. “It is, after all, to be expected of one such as yourself.” Geoffrey sighed. “But it is getting late. I feel I shall retire. You are dismissed.” He waved a claw, and the courtiers all slowly stood up, awaiting the prince to leave the table. The prince stopped at the door and pointed at one of the servants. “That one,” he said, pointing a claw at Hirsild. The young griffon blinked in surprise. “M-Me, your lordsh—” She was taken by two guards and brought along to follow behind the prince as the doors closed behind him. Handy blinked, wondering what the hell that was about. He was about to step out from the wall when a claw stopped him. He looked down at the guard beside him, who shook his head. He was about to protest when he saw the sad, knowing look in his eyes. Handy looked at Joachim pleadingly. Joachim had crushed the goblet in his claw, glaring at the doors his brother left through. The courtiers left the room silently. --=-- He had learned then, as he sat in the kitchens and attempted to eat with the other servants. He remembered his test and was going to eat a rather bloody steak from some strange animal. The sight of the juices and blood of the steak did indeed cause an unusual pang in him that he could not identify, but he didn't get to taste. Whatever this could have meant was quickly crushed under the weight of what he learned. Geoffrey was a God-damn monster. And there was not a damn thing anyone could do about it. The griffon had the tongue of the devil himself… or at least he did back when his brother was crown prince, and had charmed his way into the graces of very powerful nobles who themselves were in the graces of his own father. He had used them to undermine his brother’s position and character. However, he had also used his position to find every deep shame and dark secret of practically everyone of note in the kingdom. What was worse, as soon as he was named crown prince, he had proved he was more than willing to use this knowledge against them, not to maintain order, but for his own amusement. Handy had enquired why the nobles had not revolted, why the king had not stripped him of his title and disowned him. What he learned only made things worse. Geoffrey had allies, something powerful and certainly not a griffon. Or at least that seemed to be the case. As soon as someone entertained dissent, an ankle or wing was sprained. As soon as someone entertained doubt, a limb was broken. As soon as someone spoke out, a child suffered an accident. Nothing could be linked to Geoffrey himself. As for the king, he had been getting worse since he had been appointed crown prince. If anyone so much as moved a muscle against him, something happened. With the court cowed and the king reduced to an invalid, Geoffrey did what he want to practically anyone he wanted. Guard, serving girl, Ivorybeak’s youngest son… Handy suddenly lost his appetite. That would explain why he was stopped after Geoffrey took Hirsild away half an hour ago. People feared something worse. Handy was lost in his thoughts. He excused himself from the kitchens and left. It left a rather sick feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t just do nothing. Perhaps he needed to— A claw pulled him into a room. He reached for his hammer before he caught sight of Joachim in the fading light. “We are killing my brother,” Joachim said. Handy stopped. Well, okay, that sped things up a little. Glad to see the griffon had some initiative after all. “But we need to do it legally.” Killjoy. “How?” Handy demanded, almost growled. Joachim looked behind him. It was only then Handy noticed Ivorybeak was in the room with them, along with two guards. One of them had a feathered plume in his helmet. “I am going to press my right of retrieval,” Joachim said. Handy looked at him. “If a claimant loses the duel for his title, he has one chance to reclaim it. But it needs to be done with the permission of the king and the nobility.” “And the nobles?” Handy asked. “They support the motion,” Ivorybeak spoke up. “I put out some feelers immediately when we arrived. Some were already planning on contacting the prince to support him.” Handy considered this. Those looks Joachim got when he arrived weren’t what he had thought they were. “We just need the king’s assent.” “That’s where I come in.” The feathered helm nodded. Handy spoke up next. “Then what am I here for?” he asked. “You need to get me to Geoffrey,” Joachim explained. “We can’t have any of the guards walk with me. The word will spread and the other guards will converge on the prince’s location to prevent a coup.” “But that’s exactly what we’re doing,” Handy said, his thoughts racing. Joachim smiled. “Exactly. It has to just be the two of us. The guards won’t think we’d be brazen enough to push through to the prince’s quarters. I need to press my right verbally, otherwise it won’t hold weight of law. The prince will have to confirm it with the king.” “Which will be confirmed by the time the prince gets to the king’s quarters,” the guard captain stated. Ivorybeak lifted a wing, indicating a scroll he had there. “So you need me to get you to the prince’s quarters?” “Yes.” “When?” “Now.” Handy smiled. --=-- The pair of them walked up the inner courtyard and took the left turn into the westward castle, Handy slightly ahead of Joachim. His cloak was securely fastened so that he would not alert anyone with an errant ray of dying sunlight. They mounted the steps and marched down the long corridor to the prince’s chambers. They heard muffled screaming, and Handy let his cloak drop. “Halt!” There were five guards. The closest one to Handy put a claw up to demand they stop, his other clutching a spear. Handy knocked the arm aside with the shield on his left hand and brought the hammer around and clocked the griffon on the side of the head. The rest wasted no time. Three took to the air in the high ceilinged corridor. “MOVE!” Handy shouted and ran forward. The three flying griffons dived at him with their spears. Joachim took to the air at the exact time they dove and clawed at one as he passed over their heads. Handy dived into a roll under the inside of the reach of their spears. The three tried to stop their rapid descent, but the one Joachim clawed failed and hit the ground hard, face first. Handy got up on one knee and brought his shield up as a spear broke across it, the blow pushing him back. Joachim fell on the griffon before him, pulling him to the ground. Handy turned. The three unengaged griffons were upon him, and he brought his hammer around in an arc, breaking one spear as another nicked his side, cutting the chainmail just below his cuirass. Handy hissed in pain and staggered back. “I’ll hold them, go!” Handy ordered. “Right!” Joachim leapt off of the guard he had been assaulting, but his tail was caught and he crashed to the ground. The guard got up and lunged at the prince. Joachim rolled out and kicked with his rear legs. The griffon was shoved to the side as Joachim scrambled to his feet. Handy’s shield was taken off. He had taken down another of the guards but got cut under his shoulder. He snarled in pain. He shrugged off a punch to the jaw and came up with his knee, catching a guard in the stomach as he brought his hammer down instinctively to the guard’s left, hitting the other guard as he tried to get back to his feet. The guard he kneed doubled over, and he turned. The four guards behind him were either dazed or knocked out, and he himself was bleeding in several places. Joachim was almost at the prince’s door, and the guard he had been battling with was now back on his feet and bounding after him ‘No you don’t.’ Handy gripped the hammer in both hands and leaned back, his right foot raised. He swung, letting go of the hammer. The second he let go of the weapon, he was bowled over. The two griffon guards not knocked out pinned him to the ground and laid into him. But he had done his job, for the hammer soared through the air and slammed into the back of the last griffon’s helmet, knocking the bird out as it tumbled to the ground. Joachim opened the door. Handy did not see what happened next, you know, because he too busy being pinned to the ground and getting pummelled. The armour took most of the blows but let’s be honest here. It was armoured warriors hitting each other – they knew where to hit to make it hurt. What he wouldn’t give for a boost right now. The pummelling only stopped when he heard a harsh voice. “YOU DARE!” “I dare, brother! I press the right of retrieval! You must honour the law!” “I WILL NOT! I REFUSE!” “The king himself and the nobility have assented!” “They would not dare!” “They would, and they did!” “This is an outrage!” Handy turned his head to the side. He saw the skittish paws and claws hurry past him and a ruined, bleeding wing. He recognised that brown fur. It was Hirsild. He couldn’t turn his head around in his helmet to see what was going on up the hall. “Kill him!” he heard Geoffrey say. Handy looked up. The two guards looked down at him, considering the order. “NOT HIM! Kill him later, kill Johan now!” The guards looked at each other. “Uh… My lord…?” one began. “Don’t you need to check with the king…? For…” Handy smiled beneath his helmet. He tasted iron in his mouth. Yeah, he bit something. “YOU DARE QUESTION MY ORDERS!?” Geoffrey screamed. The guards suddenly got off of Handy. He turned to push himself up. Ow, ow, and ow. N-No! Milord! B-But the law-!” “Curse the damn law!” Geoffrey screeched. “I AM THE LAW! Fine, I will go to father. I will quash this foolishness and then, dear brother.” Handy got to one knee and looked at the princes. Geoffrey’s claw was at Joachim’s throat, pinning him against the wall. There was a faint white glow about his claw. Both griffons looked roughed up, and Geoffrey’s bathrobe was torn. Oh, sorcery, how nice. “Then I will deal with you.” He smiled viciously as he let Joachim drop. So much for the scrawny bastard being weak. Handy shuffled out of the irate prince’s way as he walked past. He gave the human a death glare, which he returned with relish. Handy got to his feet and ran over to Joachim. He helped the griffon up. He sniffed the air and turned to the open door of Geoffrey’s room. He couldn’t see through the darkness within but he knew what he smelled. “You okay?” he asked without looking down at the griffon. “Yeah… Thanks, come on. I want to see his face,” Joachim said. Handy hesitated for a moment before following, eyes lingering on the room as he picked up his hammer and cloak. He was bleeding himself but could deal with those wounds later. Right now they had to ensure the coup de grâce to their coup d'état. They had entered the king’s chambers to the sound of outrage. Joachim entered and Handy stood in the doorway. The king had just finished signing the document Ivorybeak held for him. The guard captain stood in witness as well as a bearded and venerable-looking griffon Handy had not seen before. “It is… done…,” Gerhart said, his face hidden behind the veil. Handy sniffed the air and resisted the urge to raise his hand to the face of his helmet. “No! I refuse, father, you can’t!” “It has been deemed… in the best interests of this kingdom. The duel will commence a day hence from tomorrow,” the king spoke. Ivorybeak rolled the document up. Geoffrey fumed. “You are a fool, old fart.” Handy noticed several of the griffons visibly stiffen. “I will win this duel and then I will rule.” He stormed out of the room, shoving Handy aside. He was surprised at the strength in the puny griffon. He had to summon all of his will not to bring his hammer down on the bastard’s skull, consequences be damned. Handy looked in as the griffons began speaking to one another as Joachim moved closer to his father’s side. “He’ll get Shortbeak to fight for him again. His hold over her is iron tight,” he heard the captain mention. “He’ll do his level best to get the other knights to fall into step. He has something over everyone.” “Even you?” the venerable griffon asked. “Even me,” the captain confirmed. “But I’ll fight anyway if his Highness will have me.” “You have our gratitude.” The other guards in the room left, and Handy took that as a sign he was no longer needed. He closed the door and stood guard in the antechamber with the others, fixing his cloak about his armour once more. This was not what he had been expecting when he woke up this morning.