Hegira: Rising Omega

by Guardian_Gryphon

Chapter 2

Earth Calendar: 2117
Equestrian Calendar: 15 AC (After Contact)
Twelfth Month, Fourth Day, Celestial Calendar

Fyrenn

"Brother... Have you taken leave of your senses entirely?"

Kephic grit his beak as he tugged hard on the cinch of my backplate. The speckled Gryphon shook his head slowly, and stepped back, talons crunching softly in the snow. Not for the first time, a small part of me marveled at how good his natural winter camouflage was; Like a snow leopard mixed with an osprey.

Wincing, half as much over the words, as the mild physical discomfort, I raised an eyebrow and offered my adoptive brother a knowing look, keeping my tone low so that none of the spectators would hear the conversation.

"If only it were that simple. You know Neyla. When she gets an idea in her head..."

Kephic nodded, and inclined his head.

"Right. Well, you're set."

I flashed a brief smile by way of thanks. I had set out with only light armor for the morning, and hadn't fancied the concept of facing skilled opponents without the remainder of my full combat protective cladding.

Another voice chimed in momentarily, with a familiar note of dispassion that belied far deeper inner emotions.

"Not quite."

My head whipped to the side, and I lifted both foreclaws in time to pluck a pair of glittering curved dirks from mid-air. I flashed my other sibling a smile, and the large golden Gryphon responded with a similar gesture for a brief moment.

Varan had always shown incredible control over the outward expression of his emotions, and a small smile was a veritable outpouring of affection by his standards.

I relished every one of those moments.

Below his colder exterior, Varan may well have been the most emotional of us all. To express any convivial emotion visibly was an indicator of strong affection from him. The number of times Kephic, the rest of our little family, and I got to see his smile, as compared to anyone else, was testament to a deep and abiding love.

Pushing aside that train of thought, I tucked the small knives away into hidden compartments in my wing joint guards. The weapons had become one of several additions to the structure of my armor over recent months as I attempted to identify and address some of my worst weaknesses in close combat.

The dirks were useful as either throwable weapons that could be accessed with a single claw, or as a secondary mid-reach weapon for the free claw when wielding my sword with a lone claw.

Longer than a dagger, but shorter than a short sword. An excellent balance for my typical claw-to claw attack strategies, and very reminiscent of the tritanium KA-Bars I had favored as a Marine.

I had always valued adaptability, speed, precision, and unpredictable swift changes to the combat tempo, even before my Conversion. And even more-so than the average Gryphon knight.

The basic concepts were common to Gryphic warfare, but I prided myself on taking them to unheard-of extremes.

Doing so required spur-of-the-moment, devious, potent creativity, under impossibly great pressures. Something which few beings, of any species, possessed in great measure, but which Humans seemed to have an unusual penchant for all the same, and which I had held onto with ease as I crossed the species line.

As my brothers stepped out of the ring, Neyla sidled up, casting a wry glance over her shoulder at the King and Queen.

"At least they gave us ten minutes to prepare. That was sporting of them."

Snorting, I drew my sword, working my right front shoulder joint to slightly loosen the armor plating over the area, and quell a minor itch in an ill-seated feather.

"It won't help much. I've seen Siidran put Brelik flat on his back in less than thirty seconds, when he's having a good day. And as for Linnea, I have no idea... But mothers have a scary way of winning. Even in the most impossible of situations, let alone against such outmatched opponents. If half the rumors are true, she could take us to task alone, with one foreleg tied to one wing, without breaking a sweat."

Neyla inclined her head, and sighed.

"When you put it like that, it sucks the fun out of it. I'll tell you this; The Queen favors attacks starting from the left side, so her right side is the less defended in relative terms. The King's only weakness is perhaps that his sword is of the unusually heavy variety for its class, making it slightly slower than yours, and appreciably slower than mine."

I squinted, and murmured out of the left side of my beak as the two monarchs moved to ready positions across the arena, spinning out the strategy mentally only moments before the words left my syrinx.

"Right then. So we start off with the obvious, traditionalist, flawed approach. You hold off Linnea, I'll attack the king head-on. Then we'll swap attack vectors abruptly as soon as they enter combat rhythm, and maybe that will put them off-balance long enough for us to survive more than twenty seconds. The Kobayashi Maru isn't about winning, but how you lose after all..."

Neyla nodded, and squared her stance, cross-drawing her short blades and twirling them in opposite directions about her claws.

"Peculiar Human cultural reference notwithstanding... You take lead on this. Our best asset is your... 'Unconventional' style."

I raised an eyebrow as I raised his sword to a starting defensive posture.

"Is that sarcasm, implying I'm a dirty cheater? Or a compliment?"

The Gryphoness winked, and sidestepped slightly to face off against Linnea.

"Yes."

My heart skipped a beat. It always did when she winked like that.

Siidran stepped forward to stand across from me, and dipped his head.

"Good luck to you both! Let us do our best to entertain!"

The crowd, which had swelled to number in the thousands, let out a thunderous shout of approval, mixed with the occasional keening avian call, and scattered applause. Half the city had turned out for the spectacle.

The thought brought more ice to my breastbone than the chill of winter's wind.

As the noise died down to hushed expectation, there was a brief pause.

Relative silence hung over the clearing then. The only sounds were the soft crunch of paws and claws upon snow, and the nervous rustle of feathers.

I knew that the monarchs had what amounted to infinite patience, by Gryphon standards, so I decided to give them precisely what they would be prejudiced to expect from someone as young as we were, relatively speaking.

I charged Siidran madly with an all-out assault.

The maneuver was the purview of fools and fledglings, but I had no intention whatsoever of fully committing to it. I simply wanted to force the King and Queen to engage quickly, rather than let them gain a further advantage through long drawn-out pre-combat jockeying for attack positions.

At the last possible millisecond, I pivoted away, leaving Siidran with nothing meaningful to defend against, and nothing in particular to counter-attack.

Linnea was far too clever to obey her baser instincts and step in to capitalize on my brief vulnerability. Though I had exposed my flank to her, any attempt to exploit that would in turn leave the Queen entirely open to a vicious assault by Neyla, and I knew that full well.

As the two Gryphonesses engaged in exploratory pre-assault maneuvers, I took a passing swipe at Siidran with one wing.

As expected, the King deflected with his sword, easily and elegantly forcing me to duck to avoid an unpleasant and disadvantageous shock-injury to my left side.

The defensive-abort opened me to an assault from the King, providing an opportunity far too important for Siidran to miss. He obligingly lunged forward, delivering a terrific wallop to my skull with both of his own wings.

I had been ready for the assault. While it was a minor victory for Siidran, it did far less to wear down my defenses than the king might have hoped.

My armor was a constantly evolving experiment in fusing Human military ingenuity with Gryphic experience and technology. The helmet had been retrofitted with an advanced shock-absorbing gel-layer of my own design, based in part off Earthgov standard assaut equipment, and in part off older prototypical Gryphic technology of a similar stripe.

The cushioning of the gel turned what should have been a head-spinning instantaneous victory into a minor, pointless jolt; Easily shrugged off for a warrior with any real combat hardening.

I had taken a grenade to the face before. I'd had far worse.

Siidran raised an eyebrow in a gesture of complimentary surprise as I ducked in under his defenses, exploiting the opportunity to lambaste the King's left side with the flat of my sword.

The entire exchange was over in less than a single second, and we withdrew a foreleg's length, and began to circle. I was vaguely aware that Neyla and Linnea had also sparred briefly, with neither emerging especially victorious.

All four of us were keenly aware that the real fight had yet to begin. Neither side had shown their true strategy, nor engaged beyond the point of swift extrication as of yet.

In Gryphon terms, two seconds was an eternity for a fight. An entire extended, leisurely prelude to a much more vicious fracas. It was the most potent natural advantage we had at our disposal, and also one of the hardest tools to learn true mastery for a Convert like me.

An onlooker of any other species, save perhaps a Changeling, Wisp, Pegasus, or Dragon, wouldn't have even seen combat occur at all. Most of it passed far too swiftly for slower brains and eyes to process as any sort of meaningful data.

The Gryphic ability to perceive and understand events in absolute quantum real-time was perhaps our most devastating capability on the battlefield, matched truly evenly only by Changelings, or Wisps.

Though we paid for our complementary agility and lightness with relatively brittle bones, by Equestrian standards, we seldom found the need to take a hit directly from an opponent.

All but Changelings and Wisps were not agile enough to engage us directly, even those like Dragons or Pegasi that could hope to perceive an assault from us in the first place.

Where Dragons, Diamond Dogs, Minotaurs, and Earth ponies relied on their raw capacity to shrug off impossibly massive amounts of punishment, and Pegasi found straight line speed as their best ally, we Gryphons could simply sidestep it entirely.

Thus, most Gryphon close-combat training revolved around gaining experience in intuiting an opponent's strategy, and focusing hard enough to react faster on the order of single picoseconds, in order to 'slowly,' in relative terms, build a lead on the enemy's movements.

To a Human onlooker, such engagements would appear to be a three second flurry of unintelligible lights and noise. I knew what that was like. I had tried to watch more than one bout between Kephic and Varan pre-Conversion, and never managed to process even an instant of what transpired.

To a Gryphon, or perhaps an observing Pegasus, it was a six or seven hundred move chess game played with swords, claws, beaks, and wings, where every strike and counter-strike was an attempt to gain a tiny bit of leverage to build towards victory.

My problem lay in the fact that Siidran had centuries of experience in the game. He knew every single well-worn move, and countermove in the Gryphon playbook, and quite a few from most other Equestrian species.

He was comfortable in his feathers in a transcendental way that even I could not yet achieve.

Worse, the King possessed a level of combat focus that allowed him to process his senses several picoseconds faster than I could. In Gryphic measurements, that was an unquantifiably devastating advantage. One that a Gryphon could only master with decades of practice.

Decades I did not yet possess.

My first advantage lay in the fact that I had learned to play the game from an entirely different species-perspective in the first place. One that was still deeply alien to most Gryphons.

My second, related advantage lay in an ability to completely disregard traditions, rules, expectations, and even instincts when necessary, with minimal effort.

My 'Human kernel layer,' as a Unicorn friend had once put it, programmer that she was.

Siidran smiled slightly, speaking as he took a casual swipe at me with his sword, which I easily diverted.

"I'm impressed. Your technical warfare experience is commendable, and it serves you well."

Raising an eyebrow, I dipped one wing into a slight feint, causing Siidran to tense involuntarily.

"Flattery isn't going to put me off balance, if that's what you're hoping for."

As Siidran offered a genuinely pleased grunt in response, I exchanged a quarter-second glance with Neyla, indicating when and how I was going to open an opportune moment for us to switch opponents.

"I think you're right. But I'm afraid you've played that piece to its limit now. I apologize in advance for the bruises you'll soon have."

Chuckling grimly, I shook my head slightly as he prepared to re-engage.

"Trust me. You can't do anything to me that Neyla hasn't already put me through a thousand times. I'm resigned to it."

Siidran inclined his head as he spun his sword around into a new ready-position.

"Well... Then I shall feel considerably less guilt as a result of your discomfort."

I tucked my right wing and rolled to the side, anticipating a forthcoming strike. As I felt the air disturbance generated by the passage of my opponent's weapon, I flexed all the limbs on my right side against the packed snow, in tandem, providing strong vertical thrust at the apex of my roll.

Between the control surfaces on my tail, and at the edges of my wings, I managed to muster enough roll authority to prolong my spin, bringing me over the top of Siidran's head, and down on a surprise attack vector against Linnea's side.

As I completed my maneuver, Neyla took the opportunity to spin away from her opponent, allowing her to lash out against the King's back as he worked to bring his own weapon around to track my movements.

The abrupt change of opponents left the elder Gryphons off balance. The sudden shift was compounded by the change in weapons, and styles they were suddenly facing.

Where Siidran had expected a defensive move from a weapon similar to his own, wielded by an opponent using unconventional tactics, he faced a direct attack from dual short swords, in the claws of a much more experienced, lighter, but more conventional enemy.

The reverse was true for Linnea. Having only just become accustomed to Neyla's peculiar weapons, the Queen suddenly found herself facing a far more familiar blade in my claws, but wholly unorthodox, nigh inscrutable tactics, from a heavier and larger opponent.

For a few precious split seconds I found myself in a position of relative power and advantage. I pressed that momentary edge for all it was worth.

Chaining together a series of impossibly fast spiral movements in my wings, and my sword, I forced my new opponent to steadily compound a series of otherwise insignificant mistakes and retreats in her defensive parries.

Many other Gryphons, even highly experienced ones, would have lost the fight at that point, failing to notice the perfect hole they had unwittingly opened in their protective cordon.

Linnea was so experienced, and battle-tested, that her intuition was able to fill in for her lack of direct contact with my unique tactics. An almost supernatural feat of defensive power.

Some underlying set of Gryphic internal brain mechanisms, almost more mystical than scientific, and honed well beyond those of most living things, told Linnea that she had placed herself in danger. Her reaction was swift, and unreserved.

The Queen flipped backwards abruptly over her own center of mass, righting herself in a fresh defensive stance. A brief pause ensued, and the monarch raised one eyebrow.

"Exceedingly clever. But that was hardly a fair move."

I shrugged, and inclined my head, allowing a hint of levity to creep into my voice.

"Well, your son taught me that if you find yourself in a fair fight? You've erred somehow. I wouldn't be a good fighter if I didn't learn that lesson well, and pass it on in turn."

Linnea's beak took on a tiny, but definitive smirk, matched by the tone of her response.

"He is a good teacher. But seeing as I first taught him, and I've been at this a little longer than the two of you combined... I feel that perhaps things are more unfair in my favor, than in yours."

With a sigh, I inclined my head slightly as I began to side-step in a slow, wide arc. From the corner of my left eye, I watched Neyla as she squared off against Siidran, performing a series of similar testing maneuvers.

Re-fixing my attention back on my slightly smaller, but incredibly dangerous opponent, I aired my thoughts.

"I know. But if you ask me, you learn more from defeat than from victory. Bruises are fair-trade currency for experience after all. Neyla taught me that quite eloquently. Besides, I didn't agree to this initially. She did. So when it all goes wrong, I can at least say it wasn't *I* who erred."

Linnea's smile widened as she sprang for the initiative, flaring her wings and spinning inward on her central axis to rake my backplate with her sword-tip. The damage was superficial, but a great deal of kinetic force was transferred nonetheless, forcing me to leap sideways to keep a semblance of balance.

The moment of distraction cost me dearly. Linnea pressed her attack viciously, exploiting her marginally slimmer form to eke out an edge. Though it was only on the order of a millisecond, or two, the advantage was comparatively large for such a high speed engagement.

I knew that within half a second, my entire defensive line would crumble like dust in a stiff breeze. I took a clawfull of picoseconds to devote part of my mind to selecting a new defensive option, and swiftly settled on a nimble combination of smaller blades.

The last thing any Gryphon raised on traditional tactics would expect, would be for a warrior to discard his primary weapon mid-fight. So I did precisely that.

As my sword spun away to the side, burying itself hilt-deep in the snow at the center of the arena, I raised my wing guards to block Linnea's strikes. A series of nearly invisible flicks to the musculature of the limbs caused the hidden internal catches to release.

Short, curved, thick, wickedly sharp blade clusters erupted from the leading edges of the joint-guards, like the spines of some ancient wyrm, thirsty for blood. In the same smooth motion, I raised my fore claws to grasp at the hidden dirks, yanking them from their sheaths and flicking my wrists inward sharply.

As the knives came free of their secret holders, the motion of my wrists released another set of killing-spines on the outer edges of the foreleg gauntlets.

Though the switch to small, high-speed weapons drastically reduced the average effectiveness of my defense against a large sword, it immensely increased the effectiveness of my blitz offense.

I was not especially experienced with small blades as a prolonged combat weapon. My main experience with them was from the Human perspective. As weapons of assasination. But Neyla had made progress in educating me with regards to the basics, all credit to her.

Combined with the stunning shift in the balance of the skirmish, it was more than enough to give me a wide-open opportunity.

Engaging the queen's sword with my wing-blades, I rolled in underneath her standing range of movement, rising into a crouch and lashing out with the left dirk, and the right gauntlet.

The improvised maneuver allowed me to slam into Linnea's right shoulder guard with enough force to knock it clean off its strap. Like most old-style Gryphon armor, the hidden joints between the plating and the securing mechanism were a serious weak point.

My armor, and most manufactured since my arrival, afforded for added deflection plates at critical structural joinings, and triple-redundant heavy riveting, per my own specifications.

Linnea's armor, however, was well over a century old, and had not received much in the way of retrofits recently.

The shock of the blow allowed me more than enough time to lock my gaze on Neyla. The blue and tan Gryphoness was doing slightly better for herself. Though the King outmatched her, his lead was measurably smaller as a result of Neyla's own depth of experience.

Another moment of unspoken communication passed between us. I had given up on trying to demystify how the process worked years previous, and simply took advantage of its functional presence.

A one-hundredth of a second beat passed, and we younger Gryphons once again used the unexpected change in balance to our advantage.

As I flipped into a backwards roll over my own center of mass, Neyla leaned over sharply, and launched herself under me in reverse. As we passed each other in mid-air, we swiftly exchanged weapons in a glittering display of eye-claw coordination; The four blades tumbled end over end, with barely a centimeter of clearance between them in some places, each coming to rest in an open claw.

The completion of the maneuver left us standing back to back; Wings outstretched to form a defensive canopy over our heads, short blades ready to crush any possible line of attack with a speed and agility that larger swords could never hope to match.

An uncomfortably long pause ensued as both monarchs circled us, considering their options. The silence in the clearing was an audible din in and of itself, born of a taut suspense that seemed to have a living electric thrum to it.

My mind began to run through potential scenarios. The action was almost a reflex during lulls in the flow of battle.

A common theme swiftly began to develop in each simulation. To avoid creating more risk than necessary, the King and Queen would likely focus their efforts on a single target. The sudden rush would quickly overwhelm the defender, allowing one monarch to switch taskings and hold off the other target, while the first fell to the momentum of the initial assault.

The two elder Gryphons could then once more double their focus, wiping out the remaining defender without contest.

I knew that our only chance for victory, however slim, lay in concocting an entirely unpredictable scenario. A plan of attack that neither monarch could feasibly anticipate, in spite of their tremendous experience.

I allowed my gaze a brief moment to sweep across the crowd. Eager faces, both young and old, were fixed on we four combatants, focused sharply so as not to miss a single stroke.

A familiar pair of golden orbs locked with mine, and I fought back a reflexive half-smile. Alyra stood in the midst of her classmates, all of whom had doubtless been rushed to the ring the moment their teachers heard of the fight, in hopes that they would learn by watching.

The fledgling's eyes burned with admiration, and hope. The moment was striking, and for a brief tenth of a second, I found myself mired in emotions, unable to focus clearly.

As I forced my way back to a cold, clear state of concentration, the answer at last presented itself with an almost painful certainty in its simplicity.

It came in the form of a question.

'If this were real, and your daughter's life was on the line... Would you even so much as hesitate to die for her?'

I knew that the Siidran and Linnea were treating the whole exchange as a form of game. An entertainment, and a learning experience. But if it were a true test of lethal combat, and lives were at stake, then no Gryphon would flinch at sacrificing themselves to achieve victory, if left with no other options.

A brief glance passed between Neyla and I once more, and somehow the Gryphoness seemed to instantly intuit my proposed plan of attack yet again. It was only just shy of telepathy.

The stratagem relied on speed, coordination, unpredictability, and the sharp disparity between myself and Neyla in terms of skill.

It was just brazen, and foolish enough, to warrant a try.

I made the first move. In my estimation, it was far better to control as many variables as possible. Not only would a direct attack on my part come as a shock, given that my defensive position was far better than my offensive one, but it would let me decide the target.

My line of assault left me directly exposed to Siidran from the rear, and left side. It was patently suicidal. All of my energy was focused on Linnea, whom I had no chance of defeating regardless, leaving me no resources to defend with on the flank.

The combination of a direct assault on his mate, together with a perfect opening, all delivered with such surprising speed, tripped a reflexive response somewhere deep in Siidran's primal warrior spirit.

The King committed himself without so much as a single picosecond to think about his alternatives. The rest fell into place so swiftly that I struggled to keep pace with the flow of action and reaction, in spite of my concentration.

In less than a full second, it was over.

I found myself flat on my back, wings pinned under me, with Siidran's sword laid firmly across my throat.

Several seconds of stunned silence passed, before the King stepped back and stretched out one claw, smiling slightly.

"You made an excellent account of yourself, but your impatience put a premature end to a well-conceived defense I'm afraid. Your loss."

With a smirk, I spread out my wings lazily into the snow, clasping my claws behind his head and sprawling out into a relaxed pose as I spoke. The icy touch of the flakes on my feathers helped to relieve the pain of the bruises Siidran had gleefully inflicted.

"Who said anything about impatience? For that matter... Who says we lost?"

I watched carefully as a brief moment of confusion spread across the monarch's beak, followed by astonished dawning comprehension. Siidran winced as Neyla laid my dirk blades gently against the back of his neck, signifying her kill.

In his haste to defend his mate, the King had merely assumed Linnea would hold off Neyla as he dealt with me in turn.

Yet, in defiance of the logic of the game, but in adherence to the logic of a true battle, and the bond we shared, Neyla had backed my ridiculous play right to the hilt.

She had exploited Linnea's singular moment of focus on me to gain an inescapable advantage.

While Siidran had wasted precious time finishing me off, Neyla had efficiently and viciously taken Linnea out of play, leaving her free to alpha-strike Siidran from behind, at a time when he assumed himself unassailable.

Once more, tension and silence gripped all in attendance. A few muted gasps circled the spectators, and many beaks hung open in abject shock.

I knew full well that Siidran and Linnea had lost only a clawfull of duels in the last century.

In spite of Neyla's considerable skill, and she was far above average for even our martial species... Even paired with an equal, her chances would have been considered to be low.

Siidran smiled wanly, and bowed his head, sheathing his sword in a gesture of acceptance. Linnea rose from her defeated position on the opposite side of the ring, and came to stand beside her husband, shaking off great clumps of snow from her wings as she went.

The King again bent to help me to my feet, and I accepted the offer with a smile. The monarch spoke in a low, almost reverential tone as I mimicked Linnea's earlier gesture, shaking snow and ice from my wings, before it could begin to seep past the water resistant oils of the feathers.

"That was truly inspired. There will come a day when you and she will easily outmatch Linnea and I, without ruse or deception. Of that, I have no doubt. You two have a rare and precious bond, and a highly complementary set of skills."

Words of embarrassed protest began to form in my throat, but they were cut off abruptly as Linnea unexpectedly pressed my sword into my open right claw. The Queen then moved to retrieve Neyla's blades, proffering them to the Gryphoness with a proud smile.

As Neyla accepted the weapons, the Queen clasped the younger Gryphoness' claws in her own, raising them high into the air. I found my own sword-claw firmly locked in Siidran's, and elevated into a similar gesture.

Thunderous applause circled the spectators, matched only by Siidran's booming voice.

"Warriors! I present to you this year's Royal Paladins! May the legends of their exploits grow to eclipse all who have gone before!"

I suddenly had to actively work to prevent myself from falling break-first into the snow. I could only stammer ineffectually as cheers and keening calls of celebration washed over us in a deafening chorus.

By the time cogent words came at last, Varan, Kephic, and Sildinar were all clustered around Neyla and I, smiling widely and gripping us by the shoulders.

At last, speech escaped my beak, mirroring the tumble-dryer of panicked, elated, confused emotions tearing through my feathered breast.

"Why?! Why us? There are many who are *far* more qualified and deserving..."

Siidran shook his head, and gestured for me to kneel. Linnea and Varan moved to flank Neyla as she likewise knelt, while Kephic and Sildinar took up station on either side of me.

Paladins were the highest ranked warriors in the Gryphon Kingdoms. Most had to be elected to their position by a council of Paladins in their region. Every year, however, the King and Queen would choose between one and ten Royal Paladins, by executive privilege.

Though they would start at the lowest order like all Paladin initiates, Royal Paladins were always given faster advancement, more responsibility, and more autonomy.

As young Knights moved through the crowd, bearing several tightly wrapped bundles, Siidran took a moment to respond to me directly, in a tone too low for the audience to perceive over the noise of their own cheering.

"More qualified? Perhaps on parchment, with regards to pure skills in a bout, but that counts for little compared to creativity, and tenacity. Deserving? *None* are ever truly deserving of anything in life. Not even myself. Such honors, like all things, are a true gift to all who receive them. Bear the honor as such."

The Knights arrived in the arena, passing a bundle each to Varan, Kephic, and Siidran. Kephic removed the item from his bundle, and I recognized it as my formal sash. The long strip of fabric was the Gryphic version of a dress uniform when we wore it over full armor.

It generally bore awards, a clan emblem where appropriate, and a rank emblem if applicable. Varan likewise removed Neyla's sash from his bundle, and both myself and Neyla soon found ourselves draped in formal garb.

Neyla's sash, as always, conspicuously lacked a clan emblem, instead bearing the Sentinel's sigil. The mark of a wandering warrior.

Both of us knelt with our claws clasped over the hilts of our blades, which were buried tip down in the snow.

The King moved to stand before me, and smiled, again elevating the tone and volume of his voice to commanding levels as he removed a series of objects from his bundle.

"Fyrenn, of clan Kh'yn'eos, you have made a good account of yourself both in battle, and in life beyond the bloodied fields. Though young, you are well decorated, and you have proven that you are well suited to responsibilities and tasks beyond those of a Knight."

Siidran fixed a fist-sized silver emblem to my sash, then gestured for me to extend my right wing. The King continued speaking as he affixed a larger, but otherwise identical badge to the outside of my wing-guard.

"I am honored to bestow unto you the rank of Paladin, given your record of accomplishments, and given that your brothers, and my son, have also spoken to me on your behalf to vouch for you. Will you pledge to serve your King, Clan, Kin, Kind, and God with all your heart, soul, and strength? In life, and in death, wherever the winds of providence may carry you?"

In a dze, I dipped my head, and injected enough volume into the response to ensure it would be heard by all.

"I will."

Siidran smiled, and brought the point of his sword to rest first on my left wing joint, then on the right, before speaking once more.

"Rise, Paladin."

The monarch moved to stand beside Neyla, taking Linnea's place as the Queen in turn moved to stand before the younger Gryphoness.

Linnea repeated Siidran's actions, affixing the badges of rank to Neyla's sash and wing-guard, before reciting similar words to Siidran's.

"I am honored to bestow unto you the rank of Paladin, given your record of accomplishments, and given that your friends Kephic and Varan, as well as my son, have also spoken to me on your behalf to vouch for you. Will you pledge to serve your Queen, Clan, Kin, Kind, and God with all your heart, soul, and strength? In life, and in death, wherever the winds of providence may carry you?"

Neyla likewise dipped her head, and did her best to maintain an even tone, and volume, in spite of her clear shock.

"I will."

Sentinels were extremely uncommon amongst the Paladins. Given that Sentinels were rarely interested in spending long periods inside a command structure, they were usually passed over in consideration by Paladin Councils.

A sentinel paladin was, in closest equitable Human terms, a Brigadier General who commanded no troops, but only reported to the Council, with all the equipment, training, and experience of a special forces Marine, and all the privileges and rights of flag rank.

I don't think Human military structures could even begin to cope with the idea.

Linnea smiled, and touched the tip of her sword to each of Neyla's wing joints in turn.

"Rise, Paladin."

As Neyla rose to stand beside me, the crowd went wild once again. I leaned over to whisper in Neyla's ear as my daughter came bounding into the circle.

"You and your big loud beak got us into this. Just remember that."

She smirked, and elbowed me sharply as I bent to scoop my daughter up onto my shoulders between my wings. I grit my beak and smiled as Neyla whispered back.

"Now *that* you deserved."

She was right, and I knew it.

She was always right.

And though I struggled mightily to admit it to myself outright, I loved her for that, among many, many other things.

Predictably, breakfast had turned from a quiet, routine affair, into a raucous and extended celebration on behalf of myself and Neyla. Gryphons appreciated any, end every excuse to celebrate over food and drink. Never debauched or overly raucous, our species nevertheless has an unquenchable celebratory fire in our bones.

I didn't so much mind the noise, the music, and the general atmosphere of joy and circumstance; what bothered me was being the center of attention. I've always hated large displays of recognition. Quiet modesty suits my taste much better.

I much preferred to be 'just another guest,' as opposed to being the reason for the party. I knew that if I allowed myself to enjoy the accolades, they would swiftly go to my head, and that was an outcome I wished to avoid at all costs.

It had taken almost three hours, but eventually the festivity had reached a stage where I could excuse myself without committing a social gaffe, or attracting too much notice.

When I wanted quiet in which to meditate, and a puzzle to occupy my thoughts, I always preferred Tih’ré'Seli’hn's library above all other contenders; Vast vaulted chambers, stacked floor upon floor, and running for hundreds of contiguous yards into the very deepest parts of the mountain.

The great storehouse of knowledge was the world's only real competitor to the Canterlot Royal Archives, for the title of 'World's largest conventional library.'

The Capital's library was home to many manuscripts which could be found nowhere else in Equestria. More recently, vast reams of Human books and documents had begun to take their place in the collection as well, under the impetus of the Human Archive Project.

Everything from soldiers' personal recountings of World War I, to chemical formulae for space shuttle thermal tiles, right on down to the technical specifications for modern naval railgun emplacements.

Millennia of Humanity's thoughts, musings, observations, and lessons on war and technology; All rejected by Equestria's more passive, or less organized and forward thinking denizens.

Sometimes it made me shudder, to think how much of an added advantage it would one day give our people in warfare. Bows and spears were unlikely to present much of a defense against mortars, fuel-air bombs, and heavy railguns.

In more recent months, my musings had instead been occupied with an enigma of special importance. A good friend had graciously agreed to lend the artifact, massive though it was, to the library's special projects collection.

A formal gesture of friendship to the Kingdoms, from the most unexpected of sources.

The object now lay in its own specially designed chamber, carefully crafted to keep it functional so I, and others, could plumb its depths for the answers that we so desperately sought.

On its own, the device appeared to be little more than a chunk of curved wall and ceiling, shaped from blue and green crystal not dissimilar to polished quartz. When properly illuminated, however, the artifact developed a wondrous and entrancing power.

Humans would have referred to it as some sort of isomorphic holographic projection. I didn't think the term did it justice. As one approached the crystalline structure, images would appear; Seemingly projected from within the artifact's latticework, out into three dimensional space.

Impressively, the images would shift, and change, based on the viewer's position relative to the latticework of the gem. Walking laterally, perpendicular to the wall, the images would move longitudinally like a timeline.

If one were to instead walk towards the wall, the projections would expand, as if the viewer had zoomed in on a specific event or object.

According to the donor, Changelings used the structures as both backups to the Hive's internal memory, and as indexing anchors to aid in the retrieval of memories.

Unfortunately for me, the memories which this special chunk of wall indexed were locked away somewhere deep within the Hive. Completely inaccessible to the burgeoning rebellion of re-perfected Changelings, severed as they were from the main network.

All I had to go on were the images contained in the wall, the words of my prophecy, and the hazy but firm sense that the aforementioned images were somehow familiar.

Like something out of a dream.

According to the library's historians, the images dated back to a time older than even the oldest manuscripts contained in the collection. The only potentially contemporary documents, indeed the only relevant artifacts to have survived the wars of chaos, would doubtless be scattered across various unmarked crypts, and the bottom-most layers of Dragon hordes.

Essentially lost, and therefore useless for my purposes.

I sighed deeply, working my claws around my tankard to spread the warmth of the mead through the stone vessel, and into the sore muscles. I mumbled softly to myself as I stepped up to the wall, honing in on a maddeningly familiar, yet distant image.

A golden male Gryphon, clad in some ancient type of armor, and wielding a great two-clawed sword. A distinct iridescent blue mark sweeping across his beak and the sides of his head.

In the months since I'd first beheld the projection, I had finally managed to put a name to the face. One small, but maddening riddle solved.

Seldar.

Unfortunately, the revelation had generated nothing but further confusion.

As a term, or a name, Seldar only ever appeared in manuscripts as an old-Gryphic honor-title, literally translated as 'High King.'

Though occasionally used as part of various ceremonies, in reference to the sitting High King, the term had otherwise fallen out of use when common tongue had taken over as the predominant spoken language.

My personal theory was that the Gryphon in the projection was one of our kind's first High Kings, and that we had therefore, for some reason, come to associate the term with the face.

The archivists had admitted that the dating would work out, according to some of the more obscure models for determining the year of the Kingdoms' formation.

The discontinuity in my mind was maddening. Every other moment since Conversion stood out with the perfect clarity of the Gryphic eidetic memory. I could even go back and review seconds of time for information that had been stored, but not assimilated, on the first pass. But the memory of Seldar, and the circumstances in which he had delivered my prophecy to me, remained painfully beyond reach.

I murmured absently as I brushed one claw up against the crystal. The contact sent tiny ripples through the projection, as the vibration of touch propagated through the latticework.

"Who are you, and what were you trying to tell me?"

"Has it occurred to you that perhaps you aren't meant to know, until the critical moment?"

I had to violently suppress both the urge to jump, and to let out a warning hiss at the newcomer. Of all the members of my family, and circle of friends, only Neyla, and Linnea, had exhibited the consistent ability to approach with total, absolute, supernatural silence.

Turning, I bowed my head out of respect. Linnea speared me with a disapproving mock-scowl as if to say 'don't be so formal,' and I grinned sheepishly in response, turning back to the projection as I feverishly pieced together a response.

"I sincerely hope not. Patience is not one of my defining qualities, and I don't like to play my hand until I know what's in the deck."

The Queen cocked her head to the side as she moved beside me, raising an eyebrow, and her tone, as she sat back on her haunches.

"Wouldn't that be cheating in most forms of card game?"

With a smirk, I sat back on my own rear legs, taking a long sip from the tankard before nodding soberly.

"Exactly. It's worked out pretty well for me so far... You don't win against stacked odds by playing to the rulebook. A true life and death struggle has nothing to do with fighting fair, and everything to do with winning. Cost is irrelevant. Rules are irrelevant. Limitations, beyond basic morals, do not exist. Morals themselves are simplified. Good warriors learn this, and live. The rest perish young."

Linnea's expression fell, and she extended her left wing to brush the side of my head lightly, speaking in an equally soft tone. The gesture was not without precedent; The Queen was the best mother-figure I had left in my life, and she had been the primary driving force behind nurturing that state of affairs, in spite of what she often referred to as 'my closed-off nature.'

"Spoken as one who has taken only his defeats to heart. I see you still struggle with faith in some respects."

I was forced to dipped my head in assent, and I sighed deeply, taking time to gather my thoughts before responding.

"I'm... Apprehensive. My intuition and instincts tell me that many struggles are yet to come before my prophecy is fulfilled. Intellectually? I know that I can't rely on my own mortal adequacy to carry me through. Intellectually, I know where my trust lies. Emotionally?"

A sigh escaped my beak once more, and I shook my head as I tried, and failed, to find more words. Linnea allowed a moment of silence to pass, before finishing the thought herself.

"Emotionally, you are burdened. Because you are young, but much responsibility rests with you. You are still learning to trust Divine Providence, and release your grip on the illusion of control over events."

Inhaling deeply, then nodding, my tone became one of begrudging acquiescence and agreement as I next exhaled. She always knew me better than I knew myself. Better than anyone had since my Grandmother had passed, even counting my brothers. Possibly with the exception of Neyla.

"Yeeeeessss. That sums it up pretty well."

Linnea smirked slightly, and reached up with one claw to straighten the lone blue feather in my crest.

"Is that why you have tarried long past the point of sanity, and good judgement, insofar as this goes?"

Again I nodded slowly, and a near-silent hiss of frustration escaped through my beak before my response followed.

"Neyla doesn't know... But I was almost prepared to say yes earlier in the year..."

Linnea leaned forward, and her eyes widened. She prodded my side in agitation with one wing, throwing in a verbal goad for good measure.

"And?"

I scratched absently at the back of my head, and took another sip of mead before continuing.

"And then I started having... I'm not sure. Dreams? Nightmares? Visions? They don't seem like the mere disconnected imagery of a somnolent mind. They're more... Of that I'm convinced. Speaking as someone who has had his share of spiritual, magical, and supernatural experiences."

The Queen didn't even need to speak in order to make her desire to know more apparent. Like all mothers, she had the ability to deliver an imperative, at once ironclad in certainty, but soft as velvet, with a simple glance. I was powerless to disobey.

My exhalation was a combination of submission, frustration, and exhaustion, and I winced slightly as the gesture aggravated several of my bruised ribs. I allowed several more moments of silence to pass, before settling on a choice of words.

"Sometimes, I see her. Sonya I mean. She never speaks, but she's always staring. I can't tell why, or what she's feeling... What feelings she's directing *at* me... But it's crushing. It brings back so much guilt..."

I held up a peremptory claw as Linnea took in a sharp breath, in preparation to deliver an even sharper rebuke, and kept speaking.

"I know. I know it's not *valid* guilt, but it's difficult to shake nonetheless. And it isn't helped by the other."

Linnea's gaze hardened, and her eyes narrowed as she picked up on a new note in my voice.

"The other?"

Nodding, I exhaled slowly once more before continuing.

"I don't know what else to call her. She went by Veritas when I first met her. I didn't realize it was her at first... She first appeared to me in dreams almost a year ago... She always took the faces of others... People I knew in the present... But I eventually began to realize who it was. Most often now though? She appears as Neyla."

The Queen's visage went from troubled, and suspicious, to at once both angered, and empathetic. I knew that the former emotion was directed at the source of our mutual vexation, and the latter at me.

I shrugged my wings, and stared back into the projection, eyes unfocusing and tone falling into a lower register of resigned exhaustion as I allowed the weight of revelation to lift from my shoulders.

I hadn't told anyone about Veritas' presence in my sleeping mind until that moment.

"I know our kind is immune to direct tampering with our minds... But I think it's still some sort of intentional interaction, indirect though it is. Like what we experienced when we first encountered the Wisps. She isn't really there in my mind, she can't shape my thoughts or perceptions actively... She can't see my thoughts... But she's reflecting my own fears and insecurities back at me with greater intensity, and they manifest as her, cloaked in another's skin, because of the way she does it."

Linnea draped her left wing over my back and pulled my head into the crook of her neck, thrumming softly in her chest as she spoke. I didn't resist in the slightest. Gryphons are not shut about physical affection of any kind. Romantic, jovial, familial, or friendly.

In this case, maternal comfort was the best balm my soul could ever hope for. I had to choke back a small sob, thinking on how long I had gone without it.

"I'm sorry. I know you've struggled mightily with what happened to Gilchrist, and the part you played in that. It seems as though this... Creature... Would very much like to go on exploiting that trauma to damage you further..."

The Queen pulled back, and gripped me firmly by me shoulders, piercing deep into my soul with her gaze and tinging her next words with a firm note of steel.

"...So all the more reason for you to fight back. You are a young Gryphon of action, even by our standards... So *act.*"

I grinned sadly, and shook my head.

"Oh I wish it were that simple. Sometimes I don't think the Human parts of me were worth bringing along. They bring just as many issues as advantages."

Sitting back, I continued shaking my head, looking down and to the side in shame. A familiar shame, like picking at the edges of an old scar absently, feeling the pain on purpose just for the sake of familiarity.

"Look at me... I exterminated an entire faction of the Terran government... I did nearly irreparable damage to the whole political system... Because I was afraid. And angry. I'm not responsible enough to be a father... Not patient enough to be a Royal Paladin... Certainly not wise enough to be a spouse... And---"

My sentence ended sharply, and I winced, as Linnea's claw made brief, but solid, sharp contact with the top of my head. I had to blink several times, and snorted reflexively in surprise, and slight amusement as the Queen spoke in a sharp, motherly tone.

"Fyrenn, you are a terror and a wonder on the battlefield out there... But in there?"

Linnea tapped my forehead lightly with one index talon as she continued.

"In there? In the battlefield of the mind? You have *much* to learn. And you need to do a better job of shielding, and guiding, your thoughts."

The Queen rose, and made her way to the door of the small chamber, her tail swishing back and forth with charged emotion. She glanced back over her shoulder, and raised an eyebrow.

"That starts with Neyla, and your Iin'shaar... Your 'promise of consideration.' You cannot live in an eternal state of indecision. So you will either decide before the year is out, or I will step in and annul the Iin'shaar myself. Procrastination does not become you."

I sat for several moments in silence, dumfounded, blinking and stammering, before finally finishing my mead, and working up the mental constitution to rise, and depart.

"Ya know, new and improved gel layers are one thing..."

"...But this beast is somethin' entirely different."

I snorted, and shook my head as I ducked to avoid a low hanging steam pipe. No matter how hard I tried, I'd never managed to get used to the twins' way of finishing each other's sentences.

Sareth and Soreth were an extremely rare occurrence of Gryphic identical twins. Couples rarely had two eggs at once, and more rarely still did those two eggs result in twins. But it did sometimes happen, and the bond the siblings shared was, in my estimation, even stronger and more measurable than that of Human twins.

Sareth and Soreth were burly, muscular, deep blue and black Gryphons who served as the chief armorers and forgemasters of Tih’ré Seli’hn. I had met them early on in my time as a Gryphon; the pair had been responsible for setting me up with my armor.

In the years since, I'd cultivated a keen friendship with the jovial twins, fueled by our shared love of, even obsession with, the engineering disciplines of warfare. Though it wasn't yet entirely formal, my primary vocation and work within the city consisted of military engineering.

I was forced to duck once more to avoid a relief valve, and I found myself stretching reflexively as I exited the tiny access corridor and stepped out onto a steel and wooden gantry-way overlooking an immense gash in the earth.

At one time, the canyon had been used mostly for target practice, and as a secondary exit from the city-castle. Since the start of our latest project, it had instead been converted into the largest construction pit ever conceived of by Gryphon engineers.

Sareth and Soreth squeezed out of the accessway, and took up flanking positions beside me, finishing their earlier thought in tandem.

"Half tha' systems in this thing have never existed in this world before..."

"...And tha other half 're all ten times bigger than anyone has ever made them before..."

"...And you're one o' only twenty of our converts who understands some o' the finer points 'f the boiler thermodynamics..."

"...And ya want the project finished ahead 've schedule? Paladin or no, tha's a large ask."

Nodding, I inclined my head, smiling as I stared down at the dimly illuminated shape below. Sparks from rudimentary welding devices occasionally provided a burst of added light.

"My latest numbers say that we're in good shape. And my gut says that we'll need this finished before the end of the month. War is coming, one way or the other... And we have to marshal every advantage we can scrounge."

Sareth nodded, and made an amusing raspberry-like sound with his tongue and beak.

"Well, 'advantage' is one way o' callin' it."

Soreth shook his head, and snorted.

"I still can't believe tha' this is the smaller of your designs. If'n the King wants the bigger ones mass produced...?"

Sareth interjected to finish the thought smoothly.

"...We'll hav' ta train most of our smiths and engineers in whole new disciplines, full-time."

I raised an eyebrow, and smiled once more.

"Speaking of mass produced designs... How are we doing with our thunderblades?"

Soreth grinned wickedly, an expression that I knew meant we were in for a treat. He jerked his head back towards the access tunnel.

"Right this way mah friend."

We walked in relative silence for nearly two full minutes, following the cut stone tube back into the heart of the mountain, until it opened up into the city's forges.

The facility had changed a great deal since my first visit, and mostly as a result of my own direct intervention. The core structure and traditional implements remained, but entire new wings had been cut into the rock, and filled with a bevy of machines and instruments based on my own adaptations of Human designs, and supplemented with the know-how of every new convert that had any even remotely applicable skills.

The space was alive not only with the organic rhythms of master sword-smiths and armorers working with claw-tools, but also with the mechanical tattoo of great assembly and cutting machines.

To my knowledge, the devices represented the first ever instances in Equestria of assembly lines, automated machine aided fabrication, and interchangeable parts, as part of the production process.

I'd've felt guilty for introducing such potentially devastating advancements, had I not been utterly convinced that our ingrained moral programming would prevent their use for anything but the right causes.

Everyone was going to get their collective claws, paws, and hooves on Human technical advancement at some point. That seemed inevitable. Ensuring we were first felt like the best defense.

The twins led the way into one of the side annexes, gesturing gleefully to a series of wood and steel objects laid out in softly glittering rows on a stone table.

Soreth spoke first as I stepped up to the shining collection of weapons.

"Tha first finalized production batch came out o' the lines this mornin'. Two hundred 'n fifty o' these finished in jus four days..."

Sareth finished the thought appreciatively as I reverently lifted one of the new weapons from the end of the row.

"...And we'll have one o' these for every able-bodied male and female in tha province, older than age ten, by tha end of tha month. This would never 'a been possible before you came along."

I couldn't help myself. I grinned widely, and cycled the weapon's breech, before flipping over the hardened oaken stock and examining the trigger mechanism, then the two viciously curved blades.

I'd handled several prototypes before, some of which I had fashioned from scratch with my own claws. But none had been quite so well weighted, nor durable. All my past attempts had been simple mockups.

The thunderblade in my claws was a finished weapon. All of its parts were fully interchangeable with any of its two hundred and forty nine new twins, and all machined to within mathematically specified manufacturing tolerances, as opposed to unique individual design characteristics.

It weighed a solid seventy pounds, unloaded, and that pleased me immensely. It meant the weapon would have the slashing and smashing characteristics of a war axe. Impossible to deflect, or defend against, with anything but Gryphic armor or Draconic scales.

The weapon's moving parts and barrel were comprised of simple steel, since the basic materials were cheap and abundant as compared to our finer alloys. The exception was the munition magazine, which was iron and wood, for maximum disposability at minimum cost.

The blades were full-on Gryphic alloy, given that they would take far more stress than the rest of the components, and could not be removed or replaced without reforging the core of the entire weapon.

I strode purposefully to the end of the table, where a series of small wooden and leathern containers lay in a row. Flicking one open with a talon, I gingerly extracted eight of the shining objects within, one by one slotting each into a space on the weapon's magazine as I walked back across the corridor, and into a room lined with straw test dummies against the far wall.

Snapping the breech closed with a satisfying click, I flipped the cocking mechanism back with one thumb talon, raising the weapon to my shoulder like a rifle.

Without prelude or warning, I methodically depressed the weapon's hefty trigger, eight times in sequence, discharging eight rounds mercilessly through the semi-automatic action, down the barrel, and into the farthest straw figure. A hulking mass made up roughly to resemble a Diamond Dog Troll, and clad in a similar approximation of their heavy armor.

Each of the eight rounds found their mark easily, passing effortlessly through all three inches of iron, and the inch of backing leather, before burying themselves deep in the dummy's head, neck, and chest.

After expending the eighth, and last round, I pivoted the thunderblade downwards, the main mass of the weapon spinning gracefully and smoothly about its central cylindrical claw-grip with a smoothness born of exceptionally well made ball bearings. I spun the weapon like a cross between a short halberd and a medium axe, slicing mercilessly through the next nearest mannequins, until nothing remained of them larger than a few wisps of straw and cloth.

Stepping back into a more relaxed pose, I ejected the eight-round drum from the hybrid gunblade, spent casings and all. Soreth and Sareth whistled in perfect harmony.

I smirked, and passed the unloaded, open weapon to Soreth, voicing heartfelt approval as I strode to the end of the range, and extracted a round from one of the dummies.

The quarter-pound, fifty caliber tungsten-steel alloy slug had survived mostly intact, as the iron armor had done nothing whatsoever to impede it, and the straw had slowed it gently to a stop. My eyes could make out the micrometer thin grooves left by the thunderblade's rifling in the sides of the round.

"My friends, you've outdone yourselves. Who says you can't have quality *and* quantity?"

Soreth shrugged, and snorted.

"Ach, dunno. But whoever they are...

Sareth nodded and grinned.

"...They never met a Gryphon. 'Specially not you."

I nodded, and glanced over my shoulder at the other two hundred and forty nine thunderblades.

"Well... If they ever do, they'll never *ever* forget the experience. So before I go, let's talk about those mortar drawings we were musing over last weekend..."

Alyra

"...Some folks inherit star spangled eyes! Whoo they send you down to war..."

The twang of the record mixed softly with the pop and sizzle of cooking beef strips, and the low thrum in Dad's throat as he hummed along to the lyrics.

The vinyl disc had been a gift from Neyla almost a year prior, and Dad still thought of it as one of his most valuable possessions. I could see it in the way he handled it. Like it was made of fine china.

Fourteen of his most favorite songs from the pages of Earth's musical past, transcribed from digital to the Equestrian version of analog, on premium Equestrian Vinyl.

The mixture was pretty eclectic. A few instrumental pieces interspersed with Classic Rock, Hymns, Jazz, and even the occasional 'Pop Song.'

It had become an evening ritual for us to spin up the record on a small Pony-made phonograph on the desk corner, and cook dinner to the accompaniment of Humanity's great musicians.

I'd never had much time for music before, but I found that my tastes and his aligned pretty well. No idea if that was because he was the first, and strongest influence on my deeper explorations of music on the whole. I didn't care. I just loved having another shared thing to enjoy.

Dad glanced up from the meat spits, as a sharp knock sounded at the chamber door. I had some idea who it would be, and I bounded across the room before he could react any further, chiming out in a sing-song voice.

"I'll get it!"

Fyrenn knew as well as I did that it would likely be either Neyla, or Kephic and Varan.

Every so often, the whole family would congregate for dinner at one of our homes, and it was Dad's turn to be host. Usually one or more of the party ended up being late because of their particular responsibilities or schedules.

The door swung open to reveal, a little surprisingly, all three of our expected guests. Dad smiled, and beckoned.

"Well timed! I think this batch is just about finished."

Kephic grinned widely and scooped me up onto his back, chuckling as I batted at the tip of his left ear. I could never resist that deep inner feline instinct.

Varan did his best to remain impassive, but I was positive I saw a strong hint of a smile on my uncle's beak.

For her part, Neyla remained firmly attached to a scowl. I could tell it was half real frustration, half a forced mask to hide her own smile.

As everyone took up seats around the hearth, Fyrenn shot a silent question to Kephic by raising one eyebrow and tilting his left ear. The speckled Gryphon snorted, wincing as I leapt back to the floor, accidentally causing my rear claws to briefly dig into his shoulders.

I tossed off a sheepish, embarrassed apologetic glance, which was met with a forgiving wink as Kephic responded to Dad's unspoken question. I'd learned pretty quick that we Gryphons could speak a whole language with our ears, wings, eyebrows -or whatever you'd call the equivalent- head crests, and tails.

I loved the game of learning the adults' more coded conversations. I was better at it than they realized, and I liked letting them think I was struggling to keep up sometimes.

"She has been like this all day since breakfast. I think she blames you for her newfound responsibilities and privileges."

Neyla exhaled sharply and nodded, stabbing a piece of meat viciously with one talon and ripping it from its skewer. She wasn't making any attempt to hide her emotions at all.

Dad blinked in confusion, and threw up his claws, nearly upending a tankard at his left elbow which Varan had been trying to silently fill for him.

"Are you saying you wanted me to lose, just so you could go on being intentionally lonely? If you get to ask me to lay aside my social fears, then surely it's time for you to lay aside your fear of full-blown military responsibility?"

I'd thought of Neyla as Mom since the beginning. The first day in the Conversion Bureau, after they had all rescued me from the hell I was trapped in.

Dad had been injured, exhausted, and about as beat down as I was by everything that had happened. Neyla was there for me when I woke up in a strange place, screaming. Crying. Sobbing after my sister.

I lost Sonya. But I gained more than a father. I got a mother, and uncles, and an aunt.

I don't know how I knew, but even before I'd seen them together, I knew Mom and Dad were meant for eachother. There was something they shared in their eyes. The way their sadness had a sharper layer of determination, and love stitched into it.

Neyla was Mom, no matter how hard a time Dad was having accepting it, and getting over his own fears. Mom and I were pretty sure we could bring him around, between us, and his brothers.

She pierced Dad with a sharp glower, and Fyrenn sighed, burying himself in his newly filled tankard.

I nestled down into a sitting position beneath his right wing, and glanced up at my father with a sly grin, whose devil-may-care nature mirrored the tone of my voice. I loved poking Dad's buttons on this, mainly because every time I did, I could see him get a little closer to acceptance. And because I enjoyed watching him try to recalibrate and deal with my unexpected experience, and elocution.

You grow up fast as a child soldier.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you that logic is the wrong response to a woman's fury? Especially one you're romantically sidelining?"

Uncle Kephic burst out laughing so hard that a spray of mead flew from his beak. Neyla smirked, blushing slightly, and turning her head to the side to attempt to hide her mild embarrassment.

Varan made a short, sharp squeak down in his throat as he stifled his own mirth as best he could. Nonetheless, a smile flickered across his visage briefly as he spoke. I loved it when I could get him to laugh.

"Perhaps you should be studying under your fledgeling, rather than sending her to study under others."

Dad cast his best faux glower down at me, speaking in a sharp but audible undertone as Kephic continued to giggle silently, and uncontrollably.

"Or perhaps my dear daughter should simply learn to place a filter between the thoughts of her mind, however apropos, and the opening of her beak."

Kephic at last regained the power of speech, and fell to refilling his tankard as he fired off an irresistible retort. His sense of humor and mine were a lot alike, and we never missed a chance to collaborate on getting a rise out of Dad, Varan, or both if we could swing it.

"Well yes, she's very much *your* daughter... So I wouldn't hold your breath on that one."

At that, both Mom and Varan completely lost control, falling into twin fits of loud, uncharacteristically unrestrained mirth. Perfect triple play.

I raised one claw in a fist, and Uncle Kephic gave it a quick bump with his own fisted claw as we shared a satisfied smirk.

Dad glowered good-naturedly once more, and raised a claw as he prepared a mock scathing response. Before he could muster his words, however, a loud knock sounded at the door. The severity and urgency of the sound, coupled with its unexpected timing, abruptly put an end to the louder guffaws.

Fyrenn's brow knit as he rose, and made his way across to the portal. The soft giggles of Neyla and Varan's leftover amusement barely seemed to register with him, and I could see his heartbeat quicken.

Rarely, in our experience, was surprise news welcome at such a late hour.

To Dad's visible shock, the door opened to reveal Sildinar, standing side by side with a gray female Pegasus clad in the light, aerodynamic armor of a courier, which did little to hide her messy shock of straw-blond mane.

Though she looked exhausted from a long hard flight, and seemed to have some sort of fairly severe lazy eye, she managed a small smile, and a nod. Without further ado, the gray mail-mare passed Fyrenn a small cylindrical leather container, dipped her head once more, and made her way off down the corridor.

Dad held the scroll-case gingerly, as if it were a poisonous snake, and fixed Sildinar with a wary, questioning gaze. The roan Gryphon gestured for Dad to step into the corridor, and close the door.

Everyone else in the family looked like they had just been dunked in ice cold lake water.

I immediately knew it was going to be a long night.

Comments

[Numinos]

Wow, Derpy flew faaar away from home.

[Guardian_Gryphon]

11025205
She's good at her job!