//------------------------------// // Chapter 16 // Story: Feathered Heart // by Demon Eyes Laharl //------------------------------// If there was something Gilda had learned from leading a small legion, it was that meetings were absolutely boring. Oh, she knew they were essential to gauge the readiness of their legion, but she couldn’t deny that they were utterly tedious. It was a far cry from her imagination of a war council. She expected advisors drawing on the sand to indicate enemy movement, then a quick meeting of tactical minds which would suggest a variety courses of action. She expected strong words, a few raised voices, and an argument on what their next move should be. They were present, of course, but what she didn’t expect was that it came after a long list of other things. Like… “... the latrines are mostly getting the cleaning they need, but our projections were wrong. The refugee numbers were far too high, and the guards needed to do the maintenance are all busy digging up new latrines to…” Gilda wanted to groan. Logistics were essential to winning wars and she understood that. For example, she appreciated knowing that they finally received the last shipment of supplies from steadholts that haven’t been taken yet. However, she still failed to see why they were discussing latrine maintenance when there was an army of cloven probably marching to Aricia right now. Thankfully, it only lasted a few more minutes and they finally moved away from that and began to enumerate weapon and armor availability, something Gilda could follow. “... and finished making armor and weapons for any volunteers from the griffin and pony refugees. With the armory filled with replacement weapons, the blacksmiths now have nothing much to do except replace whatever bolts the Sub-Tribune’s, uh, scouting group had lost.” Gilda expected Imlay to chuckle again, but he remained silent. Fillius, though, responded, “I am aware that Sub-Tribune’s team isn’t a scouting group, Centurion Aelia.” “I don’t know what you mean, First Spear,” Aelia said with a teasing undercurrent to her tone. “As you say,” Fillius replied. “Thank you for your report, Aelia. Centurion Faustus, your report. I think the Sub-Tribune is getting bored.” Gilda blinked, then scowled towards the First Spear. Imlay finally let loose a chuckle, earning him an identical expression. Thankfully, no one else acted amused. The older and well-muscled centurion gave a sharp salute and stepped forward to the drawing sand. “The retreat we’ve been witnessing finally stopped,” he said, drawing a few Xs on the sand. “The Cloven have been seen regrouping and marching forward in six groups. Initial count put their numbers at least a full legion strong and it’s growing.” Gilda frowned. She shouldn’t have been surprised by Cloven’s rapid response since the destruction of the wagon three days ago, but looking at the grouping and hearing the numbers, she’d thought they had more time. That was almost three Cloven per griffin soldier. The numbers weren’t that alarming yet. As defenders, they had the advantage that could easily face off two legions of Cloven. Then there were the additional defenses the Marines had added, tipping the odds more to their favor. However, her raids taught her better than before on how fortunes changed quickly enough that a critical strike could send them to the crows. “There is another particularly worrying notion,” Faustus continued. “We have scouted the additional Clusters they have built in response to Sub-Tribune’s scouting group destroying those nearest Aricia. Their reinforcement numbers are a little low, though, considering how many new Cloven were reported birthed. And we haven’t seen any Corrupted other than the mages. From what I remember, there should be a few dragons and diamond dogs in this area.” There was a murmur in the crowd, and Gilda couldn’t blame them. Dragons had scales strong enough to block bolts, could fly, and breathe fire. If even two dragons came to bolster the Cloven marching towards them, it would be enough to put some doubt in their odds. The Diamond Dogs, though they weren’t as a big of a threat as the dragons, were still a good threat as they were just as strong as any griffin and could tunnel through any defense. Gilda could practically read the worry in Faustus’ mind. The lack of numbers and missing Corrupted could mean that they were about to strike somewhere they couldn’t see. Thankfully… “Centurion Faustus,” Gilda said, earning the attention of almost everyone in the room, “the newly birthed Cloven are being deployed towards the rear of their steadholts, away from us. The Corrupted dragons and diamond dogs have been spotted there as well. We shouldn’t have to worry about them.” Faustus blinked. “Why is that, Sub-Tribune?” Gilda looked at Imlay. “Corporal, if you would?” The Marine nodded, and stepped toward the drawing board. “We’ve been monitoring our comms and received a piece of good news yesterday. Arnau’s reinforcements have finally broken through the Southern Border. We have a company of Marines and about two legions of griffins fighting their way towards us. They got the attention of the Cloven, and are facing fierce resistance. Those dragons and diamond dogs were also present during the offensive.” There was a murmur, maybe a cheer from the crowd. Gilda smiled. She knew the feeling, considering that the last three days were almost unrestful. She had wanted to go out and continue their offensive, feeling that if they didn’t, the Cloven would suddenly strike back. It was a dread image that she couldn’t erase in her mind. It eased somewhat when Imlay gave her that piece of good fortune. Things were finally looking up. Reinforcements were on the way, leaving the Cloven in the middle of two fronts. Even Fillius seemed to realize that and seemed to breath a little easier. “However, it may take a few days for the our reinforcements to reach us,” Imlay finished. “These Cloven groups converging on us are still a significant threat. We need to strike them hard and fast, whittle their numbers before they reach our defenses.” There was a murmur of agreement in the War Council, which warmed Gilda’s heart. A little more than a week ago, Imlay’s tactics were doubted, maybe even belittled, but with their consecutive successes, they were given more credence. Even the First Spear seemed to be convinced, having an  expression of fierce appreciation. “Does that mean you have found a replacement wagon?” the First Spear asked. “Pathfinder got us three,” Imlay replied. “Apparently, they were part of the ones used to transport the last of the supplies to Aricia. Now that they didn’t need it, and with Centurion Aelia’s permission, we began the modifications.” Fillius nodded. “How long will it take, Corporal?” “With all of the blacksmiths available, we can have them ready by tomorrow evening.” Gilda couldn’t have read any of the griffins’ minds, but she was pretty sure everyone would have clapped if it wasn’t unprofessional. “Providence,” she found herself saying. Fillius looked at her. “Excuse us, Sub-Tribune?” “If there was anything that could define providence, this is it,” Gilda continued. “I don’t know whether it was a culmination of our actions, or coincidences aligned by our Ancestors. All I do know is that we have reinforcements on the way, forcing the Cloven to fight between two fronts. And almost three days of fruitless search, wagons are now available at the same time there is a large number of available blacksmiths capable of providing rapid work on their modifications.” Gilda stood straighter on all-fours, looking at the War Council. Every eye seemed to watch her. Calmly, she said, “It tells me one thing: we’re going to win. Their initial assault may have removed capable officers and crippled us, but through hard work, we overcame our less than ideal start. Let’s not squander this opportunity. We will finish it. Make our Ancestors proud and send these Cloven to the crows.” There was no applause, no murmur. Instead, all of them saluted sharply, their claws hitting their metal plates with an echoing ring. That was enough for Gilda. “That wasn’t a bad speech, ma’am,” Imlay commented as they exited the room. “Did you see the First Spear? I thought he was going to burst into tears.” Gilda snorted. The mental image of a bawling Fillius amused her to no end, but she was professional enough not to laugh out loud, even if the three of them were alone. However, Giraldi hadn’t the same compunction. He roared with mirthful joy.   After she gave the Centurion a small glare, silencing his laughter to a more tolerable volume, she looked at the Corporal and said, “Don’t be silly. The First Spear is too professional for that.” “It would have been quite a sight to see, though,” Giraldi replied. “Well, I’m glad he didn’t,” Gilda said. “It was already bad enough to see him more supportive of me and the Marines. Seeing him bursting in tears would have sent me running to the crows.” “That, I would love to see,” Imlay said, smiling. Gilda rolled her eyes. “Right. Now, about the wagons. When they are done, are we going out again?” “Of course,” Imlay replied, then looked around for a moment. She followed his gaze. They were now at the hall that led to the entrance of the garrison, and it was somewhat empty. Any passing griffin were focused on their tasks and, other than giving sharp salutes, completely ignored them. “I would have thought you wouldn’t be too eager to go out of town again, though.” “Oh, and why is that?” Gilda asked. “Hmm,” was all Imlay said. After a few moments, he added, “Marco’s seemingly happier the past few days.” Gilda blinked. “Really? He seems normal to me.” “Oh, aye,” Giraldi added as they finally reached the entrance. “He got back that missing fire in his eyes. It’s a little inspiring to see.” She frowned, wondering what they were going on about. In the past three days, there wasn’t really anything significant that happened. Mostly, they had settled onto the usual routine they had before she started the raids. She supervised his and Fortrakt’s morning bouts, talked about movies he’d show once they got back to Arnau, and shared culture and some history between the two races. Granted, they also did new things like him showing her how humans cooked, and also the enjoyable strolls in town to buy supplies. “Wonder what could have happened,” Gilda muttered, wincing as the sun’s brightness made itself well known as they stepped outside in the open field, just before the gate. “Nothing really came up.” She didn’t know if she was imagining it, but Giraldi seemed to groan. She looked at Imlay, and all he gave her was a wide smile, as if knowing a secret she didn’t know. Considering the past conversation she had with Marco in regards to that story he told the Marines, she was half a mind that Imlay was pushing her buttons somewhere, leading her on to something. She had had enough. “Okay, what is—?” she stopped short when she heard an argument at the gate. It took a minute or so before she saw three cubs talking to the two guards posted at the entrance. She recognized Arnulf, Tertia, and Leonitus, the three cubs they had rescued from the steadholt and had befriended Marco, trying to make their way inside. “What is going on?” she asked the guard as the three approached. “Sub-Tribune,” one of the guards said. The argument stopped, and the guards saluted. However, before any of them could say anything more, Tertia suddenly shouted, “He needs help!” “Quiet, cub,” one of the guards declared, though not unkindly. “I apologize ma’am, but they were insisting to see you.” Gilda gave them a nod, and looked at the three cubs. They looked a little harried, their feathers sticking out in odd places, as if they had flown there in a hurry. “Who needs help?” she asked. “Marcus!” Leonitus replied, also in a hurried tone. “Marcus?” Gilda asked, confused. She tried to remember the name, but there were at least ten Marcuses in the Aricia’s legion, nevermind any civilian in the town. Arnulf pointed towards Imlay, and said, “Marcus.” Then, to clarify, he raised his made to a fist, extending his longest digit up. Tertia and Leonitus did the same. “Marcus!” “I think they mean Marco,” Imlay said, frowning. That got Gilda frowning as well. A cold slither of fear seemed to settle in her stomach, but forced it down. “Explain it, please. What happened?” “Marcus was with us,” Tertia explained, “when three others came. One called himself Bricius.” “Crows take it,” Giraldi cursed. “What is that idiot up to now?” “He was with a mage and a Talon,” Leonitus continued. “He was saying something about how Marcus was weak without the exploding crossbows, and told him to prove him wrong. We tried to go somewhere else, but the Talon got Arnulf.” The mentioned cub now looked like he was about to cry. “My fault. I didn’t see her.” “It’s not his fault, though!” Tertia defended. “It isn’t,” Gilda assured, now feeling the cold dread spread towards her back. She was imagining a few scenarios, and none of them were good. “What happened?” “He threatened to hurt Arnulf until he got Marcus to challenge him to a duel.” Gilda’s eyes widened. “Where?” “There’s a park near the markets! Please! Help him!” “Behertz, wait—!” Gilda didn’t hear what Giraldi had to say, launching herself up like a bolt to the sky. She probably passed a sky-griffin patrol, but made no effort to stop, turning towards the east where the markets were. Everything afterwards turned to a blur as she shot past a few residential houses, her eyes sharp and trying to remember the layout of the markets. If she remembered correctly, there were at least two parks, a few distances from each other. As she hovered above the marketplace, she darted from one park to another, hoping she guessed right. She didn’t need to. One of the parks had a transparent dome, tinted slightly white. She knew that was where she needed to go. Landing near the dome, she noticed a growing crowd. A few ponies and a lot of griffins were murmuring, pointing towards the dome. She bowled past them unapologetically until she came a few inches from the barrier. To her surprise, she saw Fortrakt there as well, frowning. “What is going on?” she asked in a firm voice. “A duel,” Fortrakt replied. The usual jovial tone he had was completely gone, leaving it oddly cold and clinical. “I’m putting a stop to this,” Gilda seethed. “I’m going to get that moron Bricius to stand down.” “You can’t,” a familiar voice called beside her. She snapped to the left, and saw Bricius, a victorious smile on his face. “The crows I can’t,” Gilda growled. “Yes, you can’t,” Fortrakt replied, earning him a glare from Gilda. “Marco was the one that proposed the challenge. You can’t order the challenged to stand down, ma’am.” Gilda felt her claws digging on the ground. If that was true, then yes, she couldn’t legally get Bricius to walk away from this. Worse, as the challenged, Bricius had the option to use a champion in his stead, an option he apparently chose. That left convincing Marco to stop the nonsense before he got hurt. Looking past the barrier, she saw the mage that erected the shield. He was a young Knight, acting as the the Master in Arms. He seemed to be saying something towards the Talon and Marco, most likely the rules set in combat. The latter was showing the mage two black cylinders Gilda recognized as Marco’s collapsable batons, as well as the dagger Fortrakt gave him back in Arnau. The Talon, acting as Bricius’ champion, showed the mage her gladius. After a moment, the tiercel nodded, and directed both of them to move away from each other. “Walk with me,” Gilda ordered Fortrakt, and the two began to walk towards the same direction Marco was marching towards. The barrier wasn’t large, just slightly above twenty paces in diameter. By the time Marco had stopped, Gilda and Fortrakt arrived, much to the human’s surprise. “Hey,” he greeted them. “Marco, stand down,” Gilda ordered, her tone hard. “No,” was his quick reply. The hardness of his tone shocked her enough to silence for a moment. “No?” she asked, her own voice growing cold. “Marco, this isn’t a spar. This is a duel against a bloodied soldier, trained to fight. Look at her armor. She’s got more rank pieces than Fortrakt, which means she’s been doing this for some time already. You’re not going to win.” “Oh ye of little faith,” Marco said, turning his back to her, an action that made her suddenly want to tear her feathers out. “Crows take you, Lakan!” she shouted. “Why are you so stupidly stubborn? There is nothing to prove here!” “It’s not about proving anything,” Marco replied, his back still facing her. “This is about protecting them.” “Protect who? The cubs?” Gilda growled. “They are safe!” “For how long?” he asked, almost quietly. He glanced towards his side. Gilda followed it and saw Bricius talking to the Talon, his smile never leaving. “I know his type. He’s a fucking bully on a power trip. He doesn’t want me to just surrender without proving his point. He wants to see me beaten, to make me realize how right he is. If I give up without a fight, he’s going to try this again.” “He won’t,” Gilda said forcefully. “I can have him demoted or thrown out of the legion. We have laws in regards to hurting cubs.” Marco scoffed. “I’m pretty sure he will claim it was just a ploy. That he never really meant to hurt them, just scare them a bit.” He made a move with his arms, and Gilda finally noticed he was wearing metal braces, one on each arm. They looked pretty new, unused, not the ones he used to spar with Fortrakt. Before she could wonder where he got those, he faced her and continued. “He also bragged that his family was from the Aigidius line. Well-connected merchant family with money and apparently has the ear of a Lord.” Gilda frowned. She may have recognized the name, but having stayed in Equestria most of her life, she couldn’t really remember details. She looked at Fortrakt instead, someone who grew up in Gryphon and also from a steadholt family, one that dealt with many merchants that threw around their names. He nodded in confirmation. Marco smiled sadly. “See? I don’t think you can demote or kick him out so easily.” “I can put him in the brig until it’s over,” Gilda suggested. Fortrakt frowned. “Ma’am, do you have enough power to pull that?” Gilda sighed. She wasn’t a Captain, and while she had been ultimately assigned to lead the defense, she was under no illusion that a lot of the commanding power resided in the First Spear as he was the most senior soldier of the legion. While he may be a bit more agreeable to her now, he wouldn’t have a soldier imprisoned for anything but solid reasons. It was part of his job to take care of his soldiers, to represent them. If she came to him with this, she’d only have a word of three minors, a newly minted officer with only a few accomplishments under her, and a human who was her friend. The last one screamed bias, maybe enough for the First Spear to doubt her credibility of the claim. And she dared not try and override him, which would be tantamount to losing his support, and along with it, the defenders’ as well. Gilda growled. She thought of using her family to support her, considering her sire was a High Lord, but with the present situation, she knew better than wait for the help that may never arrive. Part of her wondered if Bricius was telling the truth, but she knew no one was suicidal enough to use an influential family name on a duel. If he got a Talon and maybe a mage to work for him, it made even more sense. However… “Even if that’s the case, I can still protect the cubs.” “It’s not just the cubs,” Marco said. “He can target someone else. Tara goes out sometimes. And Chris…” Gilda growled. “I can protect them too.” “Gilda, you’re already fighting a war,” Marco replied. “Don’t waste resources on this.” “And what gives you the idea he won’t repeat this after the duel regardless of the results?” “Fortrakt helped me set the terms of the duel. If I lose, I’ll have to admit that humans are weaker or something along that line, and in his generosity, he won’t target anyone else or challenge any other human as long as I see through the duel towards the end. That last part is more important.” Gilda glared at Fortrakt, who shook his head. “Marco already had declared his challenge when I arrived. There was nothing else I could do.” “Besides,” Marco added, “I’ll just get beaten. I’ve enough experience on that it’ll just be a normal day, really.” “You’re wrong,” Gilda said softly. “He can legally have you killed. It’s a duel.” Marco blinked, then turned to Fortrakt. The tiercel nodded in agreement. “Huh,” he said. “Really? I mean, buying power or not, killing a foreign visitor in a diplomatic visit will cause his family too many problems, right?” Fortrakt shook his head. “Duels are one of the oldest traditions in the Gryphon culture. If you die, he won’t get any repercussion.”   Gilda’s face softened. “Marco, please.” Marco frowned for a moment, then looked at the Talon he was about to face before he took a deep breath and shook his head. “Well, okay then. I guess I’ll just… not die.” He turned to Fortrakt once more. “Thanks for the braces.”  Gilda blinked, then looked at Fortrakt. The tiercel didn’t face her, and just gave Marco a solemn nod. “Remember, Marco,” he said, “angle it against the blade.”  Marco gave him a small smile before it disappeared, his expression neutral. He turned again and began to walk towards the center, where the mage and the Talon were waiting on him. Gilda could only watch with stunned resignation. “They were my father’s,” Fortrakt said, turning to face Gilda. It took a moment before she realized he was talking about the braces Marco was wearing. “They were given by the Kingdom as appreciation for his service and sacrifice. I kept them in case one day I earned the ranks. I would have opted to wear them instead of the ones issued to me.” He faced away from her. “He needs them more than I do.” Gilda looked back, her mind still trying to figure out how to stop it. She couldn’t think of anything, and by that time, the duel started. The mage moved away from the Talon and Marco. The crowd became silent. Marco went to his usual fighting stance, with the difference that he had a collapsable baton on his left leading hand, and the dagger on his right. The Talon didn’t seem to react, slowly drawing out her sword, the metal ringing in the air sharply. Her wings flapped in steady rhythm, levitating her just high enough that her hind paws barely touched the ground.   Gilda could hear her heart beating fast as the two circled each other, studying. Marco had the slight advantage here, having experienced fighting a griffin with all of his spars with Fortrakt. The Talon, though, was an experienced soldier, and it wouldn’t be amiss to think she was flexible enough to adapt to Marco’s fighting style. “I’m really curious,” Fortrakt suddenly said. “Curious about what?” Gilda asked. “Remember Marco saying he fought better with weapons? I wonder  how true that is.” He paused. “It’s starting.” It wasn’t a sudden clash of weapons. No, Gilda knew Marco fought smarter than that. He closed in the Talon’s range, shifted his body slowly, and baited the Talon to strike. She did. The blade came in fast, downward strike that would have connected to Marco’s shoulder, except he moved just a step away, perfectly dodging the strike, then he took two quick steps forward, and extended his right leg to kick at the Talon. It was a solid strike to the flank, strong enough to force her away a few paces. Fortrakt chuckled, earning him a look from Gilda. “What?” Gilda asked. “His pride got the better of him,” was the tiercel’s reply. “Tell me something I don’t know,” Gilda growled, watching Marco bait the Talon once more, earning her another solid kick. “I’m talking about Bricius,” Fortrakt explained. “He may have cornered Marco into making the challenge, thus allowing him a champion, but he didn’t think it through. He was so confident in victory yet made no preparation at all. He even left the terms open on what would happen if Marco won.” “How would that help?” Gilda demanded. “Look at her. That Talon is confused.” Gilda frowned, then looked at the eagless facing Marco. Fortrakt was right. Her expression was almost neutral, except her eyes were furrowed, and her beak was forming a slight frown. Instead of waiting for another bait, she flew forward, thrusting her gladius forward, to which Marco easily side-stepped, and snapped his foot forward to her ribs, hard, making her fly away again. “See, that’s a mistake I learned not to repeat after I fought Marco the second time,” Fortrakt continued. “I thought Bricius had been watching or studying Marco when we sparred every morning, but that Talon of his has no clue. She’s not prepared to face him.” Gilda agreed. If she were the Talon, she’d stick to the ground. While levitating gave her the option to use her gladius fully, the Talon didn’t know human mobility or their flexibility. Marco was surprisingly nimble on his feet and could dodge most attacks he could see coming. Plus the fact that his feet were firmly on the ground gave him enough strength and leverage to create space between them. In the air, the Talon was at the whims of any force done to her. “She doesn’t know what kind of weapon style he’s using,” Fortrakt finished, “or that they can grapple their enemies. She’s completely lost on how to face him.” “For now,” Gilda replied. “She didn’t gain her rank by being stupid. Don’t underestimate her.” The next bait wasn’t as successful as before. Stepping to the range of her gladius again, Marco took a step back when the Talon raised her foreleg, but to his surprise, she suddenly changed the angle to a forward thrust, which he barely dodged by rolling on the ground, passing beneath her. Gilda held her breath as the Talon did a perfect turn, and streaked to Marco’s back. Fortrakt stiffened beside her, his beak forming a very thin line but it broke to a smile when he saw Marco move. The human wasn’t completely balanced, sacrificing it for extra speed as he dodged the flurry of slashes the Talon unleashed. When he backed away from her far enough, he regained stability, and countered with a fast thrust of his own as the Talon followed up on his right. Metal rang as the tip of the dagger hit the metallic armor protecting her chest, leaving a fine diagonal line in its wake. The Talon backed away, eyes wide. She looked at her armor, for a moment, tracing the scratch with her claw, before looking at Marco, a small smile forming in her face. She gave him a respectful nod, to which Marco returned neutrally. “Ondrea!” Bricius suddenly shouted. The Talon turned to face him, questioningly. “Stop playing with him already!” Ondrea seemed to sigh, then looked at Marco. Her neutral gaze now turned predatory, a look that formed a lump in Gilda’s throat. Then, she was nothing more than a blur dashing towards Marco. Before Gilda could say anything, there was another spark of metal, and Marco flying away.   The world seemed to still as Gilda watched the human fall in a heap. For a moment, her heart seemed to stop, her stomach turning ice cold as she thought that she just witnessed the death of the human under her care. To her relief, however, Marco slowly stood up, shaking his head. He went back to his stance, noticing that his baton was sliced neatly in half and a red line drawn on his arm. “First blood,” Fortrakt muttered. He moved his head slightly, as if noticing something. “Huh. Marco doesn’t even look fazed.” Gilda blinked, and realized Fortrakt was right. Marco just looked at the weapon and his bleeding arm for a moment. He then discarded the broken baton before reaching for his  other. With a flick, it extended to full length, and he went to position again, his face as if carved in stone. Before anyone could say anything, Ondrea was a blur again. Gilda’s heart was beating fast, strong. Like when she first witnessed the Marines shooting their weapons, she could suddenly see things with utter clarity. She saw Ondrea’s gladius coming in a straight line, its surface reflecting the light from the sun, thrusting towards Marco. He looked completely still, unaware. No, wait. There was a shift in his step. His right foot went forward in an angle, his right arm coming right up to meet the tip of her sword. There was a flash as the dagger slid on the side of the sword, the friction creating sparks. It wasn’t a complete parry. The force of the thrust was so strong that he lost his grip with the dagger and it tumlbed away. If it wasn’t for the brace, the blade would have cut deeply into his forearm. Instead, the gladius slid through its surface, creating a fine line in the metal with only the tip of the sword reaching Marco’s shoulder, earning him a small bite. Apparently, it was enough for the human. His counter attack was absolutely brutal. His left hand snapped forward, the baton hitting Ondrea on the head, strong enough to hurt, to stun. He wasn’t done yet; his arms captured her extended foreleg, then used her movement, her momentum, against her as he forcefully shoved her down. Gilda heard an ugly crack before Ondrea’s screams. “Ancestors,” Fortrakt muttered as he watched Marco’s knee pinning the extended foreleg down. His left arm was free to brutally rain down baton strikes to the Talon’s head in a fast flurry of motions that only left the shadow of the weapon in its wake. He probably got ten shots in before she used her free foreleg to cover herself, but Marco was completely unrelenting. He changed angles, trying to find an undefended area, and busted the Talon open, coloring her white feathers crimson. Her wings fluttered, hitting Marco, and though it wasn’t painful, it distracted him enough that he took a swipe at that too. Gilda winced. For a sky-griffin, a hit on the wings was debilitating, and judging by Ondrea’s screaming snarl, it was agonizing. Her hind legs began to kick the ground, trying to find some sort of leverage. She did, and pushed herself away. Marco wouldn’t let go of the arm, so she settled on clawing his face. Blood flew from the strike, and Gilda feared the worst. Thankfully, Marco had moved out slightly, earning him three red lines that ran across from his forehead to his cheek, missing his eye. He seemed to know he was fighting a losing battle. With one last move, he struck down on her shoulder, earning another scream. It served to loosen the claw’s grip on the gladius, allowing him to easily tear it away from her reach, before rolling away with it. Gilda turned to Bricius, now looking awfully nervous, unhappy. She first thought it was because his champion was losing the duel, which meant submitting to Marco’s terms, whatever they were. However, his eyes weren’t on the duel but at the crowd. Looking in the same direction, she frowned as she heard a murmur and saw movement. Humans, mostly Marines, began to pour in. The Marines looked ready to fight and stopped just before the barrier. They watched with horror as realized who was inside. Imlay’s eyes darted around, then spotted Gilda, and ordered his company to march with him. Beside him was a face Gilda hadn’t seen for some time.   “What is going on here?” Raleigh demanded. Gilda looked at Imlay for a moment. “It’s a duel.” “A duel?” Raleigh asked, blinking. “No, this can’t be happening. Tell your soldier to stand down.” “I can’t,” Gilda said, more quietly. “Even the Queen cannot legally order a challenged party to drop a duel.” “Challenged party?” Raleigh frowned. “Are you telling me that Lakan started a fucking duel, challenging that soldier?” “Essentially, yes.” “That little shit!” Raleigh shouted, spittle coming out of his mouth. “I knew he was a problem from the start! Nothing but a fucking brute!” He then walked away, shouting towards Marco’s back, hurling insults and orders to stand down. Marco seemingly ignored him. Imlay looked at Gilda for the moment, then asked, “I’m guessing there was a good reason?” Gilda nodded, then turned towards the duel. Imlay, and the Marines, did the same. “Is there any possible way this will end in lethal results?” “Yes,” Gilda said. “God-fucking-damnit,” Imlay muttered. He turned to his Marines. “Anyone with grenades, get ready.” Gilda turned to him sharply. “You can’t interfere.” “Fuck I can’t,” the Corporal growled. “I’m not going to watch as he kills Flip-Boy.” “She,” Gilda corrected. “What?” the Corporal asked. “That Talon is an eagless,” Gilda said. “And don’t worry. Marco’s won already.” Imlay frowned before looking at the two duelers more closely. “Holy shit,” he muttered. “What happened?” “He outclassed her completely,” Fortrakt replied, a little too happy. “He baited her to come at him directly, and when she overextended, he used her momentum to dislocate her shoulder. Then, his baton just went woosh and woosh, probably giving her a concussion and a sprained wing, then disarmed her.” Imlay shook his head. “Cornered enemies are dangerous.”  “If she wasn’t so confused, I’d agree with you,” Gilda said. “Look at her. She isn’t focusing on Marco. Her eyes are moving all over the place.” “Definitely concussion,” Fortrakt interjected. Before Gilda could say anything else, Bricius suddenly shouted, “Ondrea! If you lose, you get nothing! You hear me? Nothing!”  Gilda growled. “Someone shut him up before—!” Ondrea screamed, and before Gilda could say anything more, the Talon charged towards Marco. She was surprisingly fast, considering she only had three working legs and a wing that wouldn’t respond. Marco just seemed to stand there for a moment, seemingly uncaring, and dropped the gladius from his right hand. As she came to his range, he deliberately raised his right leg, leaning back, as if to draw a powerful kick. She stopped her charge, her foreleg stiffening as if ready to block it. The kick didn’t come out. Instead, his right leg snapped backwards as he made a slight hop in the air. At the same time, his right fist thrusting forward, fast. Gilda found the move, the setup of it, beautiful. She wasn’t completely sure how intentional it was, but Marco used his earlier kicks to establish a pattern of his fighting style for the Talon to read. When he raised his leg again, she thought he was going for another kick. She didn’t expect the fist to her face. Stunned, the Talon stepped backwards. Marco followed her, leading with his right leg. In blind desperation, she went for a wild and easily read swipe of her claw. Marco raised his right arm in a defensive position, while twisting his body clockwise. His left arm was extended, following the motion of his body, lending speed and power to his own strike. The claw hit the right brace. The baton hit the undefended and bleeding portion of the Talon’s head. There was an ugly thud as Ondrea hit the ground flat, unmoving, most likely unconscious. That didn’t seem to register to Marco as he raised his left arm one more time. The Master of Arms, seemingly realizing it was over, dashed between them. Gilda saw the the mage saying something to him, probably telling Marco that it was over. The human just looked at the mage and for one wild moment Gilda thought he was going to ignore the the griffin, maybe attack him too. However, Marco just nodded, his legs giving way as he collapsed on his rear, breathing raggedly. “Crows,” Giraldi muttered as he finally finished ordering the Guards that accompanied him to disperse the crowd. The duel seemed to entertain the griffins into staying even after it was over. “I thought Bricius was smarter than this. We got Cloven marching towards us and he tricks a human to a duel because of stupid reasons.” Gilda looked at him for a moment, nodding, before looking at Marco surrounded protectively by a few Marines with unpleasant expressions on their faces. Fortrakt was there as well, though a little bit aways after one of the Marines told him to keep his distance. Marco was being looked at by a Medico mage, Doc, and Imlay, while Raleigh was shouting obscenities at him. Giraldi followed her gaze before sighing as well. “This might cause problems,” Giraldi said. Gilda snorted. “It already has. It took Doc to convince them to let a Medico look over Marco. They aren’t letting any other griffins close.” “Have you tried approaching them yet, sir?” “Later,” Gilda replied, tone cold. “I want to have a few words with Bricius and his hired whore.” “Sir,” Giraldi said just as she took a step. She paused. “It was a legal duel. Lakan challenged Bricius and won. There won’t be any further repercussions.” “He’s getting blamed for this,” Gilda pointed out, motioning towards Raleigh, whose voice was growing more and more hysterical. “We can talk about legalities all we want, but it’s not going to help Marco.” Giraldi frowned. “Sir, I’m just urging you to not make it any worse. Besides, Lakan didn’t do anything wrong or illegal.” “The humans in charge don’t seem to care about that.” “That’s their problem, then,” Giraldi replied. “Lakan is strong, for a human civilian. He has shown that he can and will face down any trouble ahead. I’m more worried about what you’ll do.” Gilda closed her eyes for a moment before nodding. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She walked towards the Marines. As she approached, she could hear Raleigh’s shouts getting more and more incoherent, but she could knew there were threats judging by the tone of his voice. Marco was surprisingly silent, as if ignoring him—maybe in shock—which probably infuriated Raleigh enough to growl and walk away. She sighed with relief; she didn’t want to talk with him now. Just when she was a few paces away, the Marines seemed to cluster together. She looked at them watching her stonily, before they seemed to take a breath and moved aside. She gave them a thankful nod, and slowly approached Marco. “Marco,” she greeted. Marco blinked, then looked at her. He gave her a small, painfully tired smile. With the slash on his face, it gave him a rather edgy look. First thing that came to her head was that the wound had to go and that there was no way she would have Marco carrying the whore’s Marking. The Doc turned to her, frowning. He gave a look to Imlay, who regarded her carefully. “Ma’am, this isn’t the time,” the Corporal said. “I’m just here to officially congratulate him on winning the duel,” Gilda said neutrally. “I am also here to see if Bricius has come through with the conditions to be met when duel was won.” Marco blinked. “Um, I thought I just won’t have to admit humans were weak?” Gilda shook her head. “Those were the conditions set if he won. He lost. And Fortrakt tells me he left yours open.” Marco frowned. “Hey, does that mean he can start this crap again? Target or challenge someone else? Because that was part of his terms if he won the duel.” “As you haven’t set any conditions, you can still prevent him from doing that.” “Wait,” Imlay interjected, “what is this shit of targeting or challenging someone?” “Long story,” Marco replied. He looked at Gilda. “Okay, yeah, let’s do that.” “May I also suggest something?” Gilda asked, smile now widening. Marco blinked, then said, “I’m open to suggestions.” “It seems there’s a need of griffins to help maintain latrine cleanliness,” Gilda said. “Normally, I’d transfer him there, but he could protest that he was being transferred as an unjust punishment for participating a legal duel, especially considering our obvious friendship. However…” Marco matched her smile. “However, if it is part of conditions of said legal duel, he won’t have a leg to stand on.” “Exactly.” There was no hesitation. “Do it,” he said. “My pleasure.”