Annarr kostr

Drengskapr fyrir fjandhestinum (Honor for the enemy)

Chapter 1: Annarr kostr (A second chance)

The Fimbulvetrian scouts blew their battle horn when they spotted the watch towers of the Gryphon Kingdom. With the booming warning still echoing in the wind, the two pegasi flew towards the main caravan they’d left behind. They zigzagged and crossed their flight paths, and the caravan came to a halt. The scouts saluted the stallion leading the caravan with a hoof to their chest as they landed on the grassy field.

“Þegn Drakkar, we’ve spotted the Gryphon Kingdom in the horizon. Less than ten miles remain.”

The brown unicorn returned the salute with a firm hoof against his chest, covered by his matching brown overtunic. As he lowered his leg to the ground, he focused his attention on the clear sky above them. The Moon was at its highest, and the lack of wind allowed his long, dark yellow mane to rest motionless on his olive green cloak.

With a long, noisy huff, Drakkar turned his head at the caravans behind him. A dozen carts pulled by sturdy oxen followed him, with over fifty warriors protecting the front, flank, and back of the caravan. Right next to him stood his personal bodyguard, Hófkarl Megin-gjarð Hǫggson. The hulking behemoth of a stallion remained alert at all times, and during the whole week of travel had only left the þegn’s side to make sure the Manegol ponies behaved and didn’t try to escape.

Drakkar turned to face the soldiers behind him. “Soldiers, we can reach the Gryphon Kingdom before tomorrow noon. Don’t let your guard down; we’ve had a calm trip, but expect a Manegol ambush or wild beasts anytime soon.”

The soldiers nodded and turned their heads to check their surroundings. The lack of Úlfsvetir and other usual threats had been received with relief, especially after the taxing battles Fimbulvetr had gone through only a few weeks ago.

One of the Manegol colts was able to roll on his belly and get up on his hooves despite having his legs tied. Letting himself fall on the side of the caravan, he looked at Drakkar as he panted between long breaths, “You snow-eating scum! You didn’t have enough with killing my older brother on the battlefield; you also have to get a profit from me!”

Although Megin-gjarð turning around was enough to make the pony lean back and cower, Drakkar rested a hoof on the hófkarl’s shoulder. The enormous stallion remained on the spot, still throwing a glare at the prisoner, followed by a guttural snarl. When Drakkar walked his way in front of the rebel pony, he rested a hoof on the cart before speaking.

“You are here because you refused to take revenge on your brother’s death.” Drakkar’s face twisted into a slowly deepening frown, which made the colt move away from him. “You had the chance to avenge his death, or at least try to. Anything would have shown that you actually live by a code of honor.” When the tied colt frowned at him, Drakkar rolled his eyes, letting out a disgruntled sigh. “You can’t expect me to be intimidated by that; I know you aren’t that gullible. You had me in front of you. You were armed and ready to charge against me. You might have been able to kill me. Instead, you dropped your axe and fell on your knees.”

The young stallion shook his hooves trying to set himself free, talking between grunts. “Look at me! I’m far from a warrior!”

“What’s your name, Manegol?”

The pony stopped moving for a moment, staring at Drakkar in disbelief. With a dubious stutter, he replied, “I… I’m Chuluusüke. Why do you ask? Why does it matter?”

“Stone axe.” The young stallion remained with his mouth wide open for an instant before nodding as the other Manegols shared stares of awe. “You bear a warrior’s name, youngster, though I can see your training is far from done.”

“I started my training at the barracks only two months ago! What does it have to do with me being here?”

“And yet you took arms against us. Your brother fought with honor and determination, and for that you should be proud to have him as an example to follow. What you did, however, was pointless, and you should be happy he died before he could see you.”

“Shut up!” Chuluusüke twisted between growls, gritting his teeth as he struggled to sit, leaning forward to face Drakkar. “You don’t know what you’re talking about! You already killed him! Leave him alone!”

“The battle has been over for a long time, kid; it’s time to think coldly. Your brother fought with a ferocity I’ve seen frequently. Not only he was trained to fight, but had a strong reason to do so. But you weren’t supposed to be there.” Drakkar shook his head, staring at the young stallion’s watery eyes. “He fought admirably to protect his family, including yourself. I have the feeling you grabbed that axe against his wishes. He probably told you to stay inside.”

Chuluusüke blinked as he stared at Drakkar. In front of him stood the one who murdered his older brother, yet he seemed to know everything that had happened before the battle started. The young stallion moved away some strands of his long, black mane from his face, allowing Drakkar to stare deep into his tired aquamarine eyes. “How do you know that?”

“Because I also fight to defend those I care for, and all the ponies that escort you and your folks do the same.” Drakkar shook his head, pointing at Chuluusüke’s ivory-colored chest. “Fighting for a purpose is glorious and you shouldn’t avoid the call, but that doesn’t mean you should throw your life away. There’s always a reason to fight, but there are also reasons to make it back safely.” The unicorn let out a short sigh, followed by a lowering of his head. “I cannot say I blame you for that; I learned that lesson only recently, but the main point still remains.” Drakkar went back to using a scolding tone, pressing his hoof against Chuluusüke.

The Manegol stared at him with a raised eyebrow. “What are you trying to say, Fimbulvetrian?”

“If we see a pony wielding a weapon, regardless of age and gender in the middle of a battlefield, we assume you know how to use it. And we’ll fight you and take you down, probably with such ease that we won’t even bother to mention it in our boastings. By picking a weapon, you showed you were a warrior ready to fight. But by throwing it away once picked?” The þegn’s face warped into an expression of utter disgust, which made Chuluunsúkh shrink and move back. “You are lucky we took you with us, considering you were going to be judged as a deserter.”

The young earth pony gulped, looking away from Drakkar. “I thought—”

“In the heat of battle, many of us make mistakes we regret instants later, kid. Were you trying to scare us off?” Chuluusüke didn’t look Drakkar in the eye, but still replied to him with a weak nod. “Most of us have years of experience in the battlefield, and we can see when our enemy is well-trained and ready to give his life if necessary. But we can also see when the only thing the pony in front of us has is a weapon, but no idea what to do with it.”

“And I’m going to be sold to the gryphons? For dropping my axe?”

“You know how Manegols treat deserters and cowards better than I do.” Chuluunsúkh lowered his head, nodding again. “You are still alive, and I am well aware that becoming servants is far from what you wanted your life to be.” Drakkar slammed the cart with a hoof before moving away from it to address all the captive Manegols. Earth ponies, unicorns and pegasi, mares and stallion alike moved and tried to find out whatever was going on. “Listen, because I shall not repeat it again. We are giving you a second chance at life. Yes, you will be purchased and work for gryphons. Some of you will be little more than servants for those too pompous to dishonor themselves by performing menial tasks. Some of you will be trained to fight for their amusement. But remember this: gryphons respect strength. Become good enough at something, be it fighting or supporting a household, and you will earn their approval, and even your freedom.”

Chuluusüke raised an eyebrow, looking around to meet his fellow Manegols’ startled stares. “Is that even possible?”

“I have seen a few Manegols owning stores and earning a profit for themselves, and some of the gladiators became renowned enough to pay for their freedom as well. You shall have a place to sleep and those who end up becoming gladiators will be given training before they send you to fight.” Drakkar let out a sigh before raising his voice for all to hear. “I will not lie to you; it will be difficult. We don’t expect gratitude for this gesture, nor are we asking for it.”

He pounded the cart a couple times with his hoof before pointing at one of the caravans — the only one that held barrels and boxes instead of ponies. “We’re camping here for the night, soldiers! Start building the tents! Usual patrol turns when you’re done!” With a gesture of his hoof, Drakkar called Megin-gjarð to come closer, tilting his head when the huge earth pony got in front of him. “Get the kid and bring him to my tent when everything is set. Make sure the others are fed and are given something to drink.”

Chuluusüke gulped before turning to his fellow Manegols, getting unpleasant looks from those he achieved eye contact with. Around them, the Fimbulvetrian soldiers began working on setting up the camp.

-o-

Drakkar remained alone in his tent, grunting as he moved among the scrolls he had in front of him. Next to him stood a small fish oil lamp that gave light to the room and allowed him to work. “It’s not enough! No matter how many times I look at it, we’re still short.” An exasperated sigh escaped his lips as he grabbed his mug of mead, staring at its half emptiness. “We must make some cuts if—”

The heavy hoofsteps of Megin-gjarð made Drakkar sit uptight and let the quill on the floor. “Is anypony there with you, Þegn?”

Drakkar shook his head, his worry twisting his voice. “I was just thinking out loud, Megin-gjarð. What do you need?”

“I brought you the kid as you asked.”

“Let him in.” Drakkar put the papers away as the young Manegol walked inside on his own. Despite being untied, Chuluusüke kept looking with a worried frown at both stallions. The huge hófkarl remained outside of the tent, standing guard. The Manegol kept looking outside of the tent, jumping away as Drakkar waved a slice of fish. “You should eat something, youngster.” Chuluusüke stared at the food for a moment, stretching his hoof slowly towards it. Showing a tired smile, Drakkar rested the fish on his hoof before he took another one for himself. His horn glowed dimly as the bowl levitated and ended up between the two. ”They’re clean, so bite without fear.”

Chuluusüke glanced at the fish for a moment, and then focused on Drakkar once more. The unicorn raised an eyebrow at the kid while biting the fish he had picked. It was only shortly after that the Manegol started eating what he was given. Chuluusüke turned back at Drakkar as he nodded and smiled. “It’s quite good.”

Drakkar grinned widely while pushing the bowl closer to him. “Enjoy them, kid. I’ve caught most of the fish we’ve been eaten during this week-long trip.”

Chuluusüke’s eyes open widely as the fish slice he had picked slipped back to the bowl. “Really? So you’re a fisherpony?”

“And a hunter, just like my father and his family since before Fimbulvetr became the kingdom we have today!” Both ponies became silent and avoided eye contact, though Drakkar looked at the kid through the corner of his eye. The Manegol ate fish with a sad frown on his lowered head, idly staring at the slowly emptying bowl. “What was his name?”

Chuluusüke turned to face Drakkar with a raised eyebrow. The unicorn lifted his mug of mead and took a long sip. “Tömüke.”

Drakkar moved the mug away from his face before showing a satisfied smile. “A fitting name for a worthy warrior. You must feel proud of him.”

A small blush reddened Chuluunsüke’s white cheeks. “I am. I appreciate your words.”

“I don’t give away compliments, so rest assured that, if I say something about your brother, it’s because he earned it.” Drakkar blinked for a moment before focusing his sight on the cloths of the tent. “Tömüke, you said? How come you have axe-related names in your family living in Brandr?”

Chuluusüke shook his head with a confused expression. “Brandr? I’m sorry, but I don’t think I understand. Our khanate is called Badanbaatar.”

“Oh, right, Manegol name.” Drakkar massaged the space between his eyes before letting out a short sigh. “We call them for the weapons the Great Khan left to his children before dying.”

“The khanates in Manegol are named after the kids’ names. Badanbaatar, Numbaatar, Jidabaatar and Aluq-abaatar.”

“Hero of the saber, the bow, the spear and the hammer?” Chuluusüke frowned at him, but Drakkar shrugged as he let out a short chuckle. “Well, we have a city that translates to “land of goats’, so yours aren’t that bad.”

Chuluusüke chuckled with Drakkar, yet returned to the serious expression shortly after. Staring at the tent’s exit, he asked, “Do you think I’ll be able to return home someday?”

Drakkar closed his eyes, resting the mug next to him. “I don’t know, kid. If you earn a high enough reputation, you’ll become free and you might be able to return to Manegolia. I don’t know if they’ll make you go through a trial or something to prove that you’ve grown up.” He turned to face the Manegol and gave him a quick shrug. “Or you could even find a Manegol mare there and start a family; it’s all up to you.”

With widened eyes, Chuluusüke looked away and covered his face behind his hooves. “But þegn, I’m only fifteen! I don’t think I’m ready for that! Sure, there was this mare who—”

Drakkar burst into laughter at Chuluusüke’s violent blush, earning Megin-gjarð attention for a moment. “You’ll have time to think about that. Or even better; you could earn a female gryphon’s favor and end up becoming her lover. I’ve heard they’re wilder in bed than our mares.” Drakkar laughed once more, patting the Manegol in the back, who gave him an awed, disbelieving stare.

Megin-gjarð shook his head, yet remained in his position as he said. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

With an amused smirk, Drakkar crossed his forelegs in front of his chest and replied to the hófkarl. “I don’t recall you have had the experience to tell who are better.”

“Your wife squeezed two foals out of you in the first two years of marriage, and I had to insist that you moved your bedroom to the other side of the longhouse as well as making it soundproof.” Megin-gjarð pushed his head inside the tent, gazing at the furiously blushing Manegol and the frowning þegn. “I’ve never mated with a gryphon; I’m just saying that, knowing your wife, there’s little room for improvement.”

Drakkar laughed loudly, pounding the ground with his hoof as the young Manegol stared at him and slowly move away. “If the sounds she makes are the only thing you know, you are far from able to fairly judge anyways.”

With a quick grunt, Megin-gjarð returned to his position as Drakkar turned to face Chuluusüke. The Manegol kid shook his head while keeping his eyes wide open. “Your… your soldier is quite… brazen.”

A chuckle escaped through Drakkar’s lips as he shrugged Chuluusüke’s words off. “He’s a foalhood friend. We grew up together. And yes, he’s my hófkarl, and as such, he lives with us.” The unicorn covered his mouth with a hoof to muffle his laughter. “Which also means he has to deal with my love life.”

“I want to say…” Chuluusüke looked down as he grabbed another fish from the bowl. “I am grateful that you didn’t take the rest of my family with me.” The Manegol kid shrank when Drakkar’s smile turned into a frown at his words. Chuluusüke covered his head with his hooves and looked away as the unicorn glared at him.

“You speak as if I enjoyed what I’m doing.” Drakkar finished the mead before refilling it from the keg next to him. “I don’t. Nopony should. But we get to replenish some of our coffers and those of you who were going to be executed for desertion are given a second chance at life. In one way or another, both ends win.”

“Is that all?” Chuluusüke kept his hooves over his head, but he looked at Drakkar from behind them.

“That is all.” The unicorn let out a long sigh as he turned to his mug of mead and stared inside it.

Another long silence followed for a moment. Seeing a war veteran in such state made Chuluuüke raise an eyebrow, yet he kept the distance. The unicorn alternated between taking sips from his mead and checking his papers. Looking down at the bowl of fish, the Manegol exhaled briefly before pushing the food away from him. “I am full. May I return with the others?”

Drakkar didn’t look at the kid when he replied. “You may.”

“Aren’t you going to send me with a guard or anything?” Chuluusüke remained on his spot, motionless as the þegn finally turned to face him, a bemused expression drawn on his face.

“I can call guards to take you there, but you can get there on your own.”

“I could simply walk away from the caravan.”

Drakkar slowly turned to Chuluusüke, an amused smile growing on his face. “And where would you go?”

The Manegol kid took a step forward and opened his mouth to speak, but remained motionless as words didn’t come out. Blinking on the spot, he lowered his head and stared at the rubble under his hooves. A shake of his head followed a few unfinished sentences. “I… maybe…”

“You are doing it again.” Drakkar sighed with his forelegs crossed on his chest. “That is the reason why you ended up here, and you think that impulsive thinking and acting will help you get away. Let’s assume you decide to escape.” The unicorn frowned at the Manegol, whose legs began to tremble slightly. “And then what? You certainly can’t go back to Manegolia just yet. Can you survive in the wild? For how long? If you have somewhere else to live, you can leave.” Drakkar stomped the ground when he stepped forward, glaring into Chuluusüke’s eyes. “Is this the way you’re going to appreciate Tömüke’s sacrifice? So you can get killed in the wilderness because of a foolish error?”

The Manegol’s eyes widened in an instant, and quickly turned into a deep frown accompanying his gritted teeth. Small pebbles were dragged up from the ground when Chuluusüke raised his right hoof and threw a punch that hit Drakkar’s cheek. The blow made the unicorn step aside to prevent a fall as he let out a pained grunt.

“I told you to leave my brother alone!” As Drakkar shook his head, Chuluusüke took a step forward to confront the þegn. “You can mock my cowardice and twist the dagger in that wound as much as you want. You can question my worth as a warrior. But my brother stays out of this!” Despite Drakkar’s growl inches away from his muzzle, the Manegol didn’t flinch.

Chuluusüke remained impassive for a while, only raising an eyebrow as Drakkar’s growls gave way to a smirk. “There might be hope for you after all.”

The Manegol shook his hoof for a moment, keeping eye contact with the unicorn. “Now you are going to tell me that you did that on purpose for this to happen?”

“I’m still genuinely disappointed at your behavior, but you defend your family’s honor as anypony that values their family is wont to do.” Drakkar rubbed his hoof on his cheek, though he showed no trace of pain as he did. “I shall make sure you get to the gladiatorial arena; the training you get there combined with your Manegol archery should make you decent enough to win plenty of fights and become famous among the pit fighters.” Chuluusüke nodded with a barely noticeable smile. “And when you stand there in front of your enemy, whoever he is, remember who you are, Chuluusüke, brother of the Manegol warrior Tömüke.” Drakkar hit himself in the chest with a hoof, and Chuluusüke followed suit. “Live by his example, earn your place and return home as a renowned warrior.” The unicorn leaned forward, his gaze focused on Chuluusüke’s eyes. “And then, if the Nornir wish so, we shall meet in the battlefield once more. And songs about the confrontation will be sung for generations.”

Chuluusüke kept his distance, wiping his watery eyes as he nodded. “Maybe we will. I shall get myself prepared for that day.”

“And I look forward to it.” Drakkar showed a fickle smile as he patted the Manegol kid’s head. “You can go with the others whenever you want to.”

Chuluusüke replied with a quick nod. “I shall leave right away, then. Thank you for the food, þegn.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed Fimbulvetrian hospitality.” Drakkar showed a wide smile as the young Manegol walked outside of his tent.

When he turned to his papers, the joy quickly faded away, leaving a heavy frown where the smile was just a moment ago. He let out a long sigh right before Megin-gjarð stepped inside the tent.

“You seem concerned, old friend.” While Drakkar remained focused on the papers, Megin-gjarð looked the hófkarl’s shoulder to take a glance of the papers. “Are those numbers that bad?”

“Unfortunately, they are.” A long sigh escaped his lips as he approached the mug to his lips before drinking the mead that was left in a long gulp. “We’ve filled almost a dozen carts today, but that doesn’t make up for the previous years when we had close to nopony to bring to gryphon lands.” Drakkar filled his own mug as well as a second, clean one, which he levitated towards Megin-gjarð.

With a nod, the hófkarl raised his mug as he smiled. “Fierce fighters who refused to surrender and fight until death for those who they hold dear.”

“May their gods bless them in the afterlife.” The mugs clashed in a toast and both ponies chugged their mead with wide smiles hidden behind the containers. Drakkar’s smile slowly became a contemptuous smirk as he focused on the papers once more. “If there was only a way to balance the imports and exports…”

“We’ve already been allies with Equestria for five years now, and I know we’ve been trading with them since then.”

Drakkar shook his head. “Save for the unusual collector paying an exceptional amount of money for some figurines, there’s not a lot in our favor. Equestria’s economy is stronger than ours. Even with the trades we do with them, we simply don’t get enough profit to keep our coffers from emptying further.”

Megin-gjarð stroked his beard while staring with a frown at the half-empty mug. “What if we could buy the raw steel? Wouldn’t it be cheaper to buy the metal bars and work with them ourselves?”

“That would be the best option if we could work the metal.” With a long sigh, Drakkar left the mug net to the keg and started massaging his forehead. “All our attempts to make steel have given us dull or fragile alloys. Mjǫllna is the only Fimbulvetrian that I know that can craft goods made of steel and turn iron into strong steel, and that’s because she mastered Equestrian blacksmithing.” A smile covered his muzzle for a brief moment at the sound of his wife’s name. “She’s indeed the best to come from generations of smiths.”

A loud laugh escaped through Meingjarð’s widely open mouth. “And I don’t think she would be happy about us giving her the duty to supply a whole kingdom with weapons.”

“Not to mention that the caravans should make an additional trip, which would consume much more time. Gryphons have the weapons crafted already, so it’s quick. With this alternate plan, we would send the steel to Equestria, then wait until they’re done making the weapons, and then pick them up.” Drakkar turned to face Megin-gjarð, covering his muzzle as he lowered his head. “We could send her to teach our blacksmiths, but that’s a trade passed strictly master to apprentice, unlike the large schools they have back in Equestria.”

Megin-gjarð raised an eyebrow before lowering his head, trying to look into Drakkar’s eyes. “That’s not the only reason. We’ve known each other for over twenty years now.” His ears perked up the sound of brief sobbing, resting a hoof on Drakkar’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright, old friend.” Getting no reaction from the þegn, Megin-gjarð grabbed Drakkar’s face and lifted him so they could look into each other’s eyes. The unicorn’s watery eyes confronted the massive earth pony’s comforting gaze. “Drakkar, calm down.”

With a long sigh, Drakkar closed his eyes shut before wiping them dry. “I don’t want to take Mjǫllna away from our foals. I have to leave Ponyville every year to take care of the diplomatic relations and to assist Fimbulvetr during the war season with the Manegols.” Drakkar took a few deep breaths before resuming talking. “I already missed my firstborn’s birth. This is my responsibility, and I take it with pride and honor, but I can’t deny that the price is higher than I might have expected.”

“You should defer some of the burden to other ponies. The stress isn’t doing you any good.”

Drakkar grunted as he pointed at the financial scrolls. “I would relax if we could find a way to save Fimbulvetr from this economic disaster we’re stuck in! There must be a way out”

“Have you thought about buying our weaponry from Equestria instead of the Gryphon Kingdom?”

“I’ve thought about it, but we can’t just cut the imports with the gryphons just like that.” Drakkar took the papers and lay them on the ground between the two ponies. “I guess we could slowly cut the imports from the gryphons.”

The hulking stallion shrugged and showed a wide grin. “That’s not too difficult to justify. We’ve been buying steel weapons and armor for years now, and while we still don’t have enough to supply the whole kingdom, they’re far more durable. We just don’t need to resupply ourselves as frequently as we used to when using iron.”

Drakkar’s eyes widened, reaching his forehead with a hoof. “That’s a good point!” A wide smile covered his muzzle as he took the papers in front of him. “I have to ask about costs of trading weaponry from Equestria. Maybe we can even deduct some costs if we’re able to make the trading in the Crystal Empire.”

“At least if the price is better and the goods are still worth it.”

Drakkar nodded, a satisfied smile shining on his face. “That’s what we’ll have to find out. Shining Armor showed me some outstanding weapons and armor back there during one of my formal visits.”

“We’ll recover ourselves little by little, my old friend.” Megin-gjarð patted Drakkar’s back as he raised his mug, grinning as Drakkar levitated his own and rested it on his hoof. “For Fimbulvetr!”

“For our future prosperity!” With a second clash of mugs, the two friends enjoyed their drink.

As Megin-gjarð finished his mead, he peeked outside the tent. “I shall leave you so you can get some sleep.”

“Yes, if we wake up early enough, we can probably reach the Gryphon Kingdom by midday.” Drakkar covered his mouth as he let out a long yawn. “The sooner we’re done with this trading, the sooner I’ll be able to return to my wife.”

“So be it, then. Rest well, þegn.” The large earth pony got up and left the tent, his heavy hoofsteps slowly fading in the distance.

Drakkar allowed himself to fall onto his back, rolling the papers up and setting them under the small hay bale he used as an improvised pillow. With his axe, shield and chain shirt to his side, the unicorn levitated a linen sheet over him and leaned down as his eyes closed.

Ófreskjubanamol

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Chapter 2: Ófreskjubanamol (The ballad of the beastslayer)

Steep walls protected the Gryphon Kingdom of the North. They had been carved from stone as white as the purest ivory, and only the king’s castle’s main tower stood taller than the wall itself. Dozens of towers spread across the fortification, with threatening ballistae fully armed and pointing at the ground outside the walls. The wooden door stood almost as tall as the wall itself, the thick planks welded to each other by iron plates. On top of the gate was a thick stone bridge with several more ballistae and cauldrons to defend against whoever assaulted them.

Only one third of the towers had soldiers stationed in them, with only a few lookouts flying over the castle and the surrounding areas. Outside the gate, two sturdy gryphons remained on guard, supporting their weight on their spears. The leftmost sighed, massaging his forehead with his talon. “We should be enjoying the celebration in there.”

Rolling her eyes, the female guard replied to him. “This is the third time you mention it. Do you think I like being here?”

“It wasn’t fair, Centurion!” The male gryphon spread his wings as he puffed his chest out. A scowl from his superior made him shrink and return to his position. “I was this close to qualify for this year’s tournament! I wouldn’t have to be here if I had won that last fight! And now I have to deal with guard duty while all the contestants are feasting in there!”

“You were unlucky, Legionary. Everyone was surprised when Evocatus Géralt’s name was mentioned.” Her face twisted in a pained expression as she turned to face him. “It was a brutal confrontation.”

“That beast broke four of my ribs and my left arm!” The Legionary rested his free hand on his side, gritting his teeth as he rubbed the bandages wrapping his torso.

“I would recommend you to rest until you’re fully healed.”

The Legionary let out a short, mocking burst of laugh. “You know better than me that a few broken bones can’t stop a gryphon soldier.”

The Centurion’s smiled at the legionary’s words. “While that’s the maxim of our army, it’s always refreshing to see it live.”

With a pained grunt, the legionary stood uptight. “I serve in this army with pride. I accepted to do this while it finishes healing. Once I’m back to normal, I’ll return to scouting duties.” He looked up to see a scout hastily flying over the wall inside the city. “Looks like we have company.”

“I wonder why the scout hasn’t come to us before getting inside.” The Centurion took a pair of binoculars from the pouch hanging from her belt as peeked over the horizon. Though still about less than a mile away, the pony caravan marched steadily towards them. “Oh, the Fimbulvetrians are coming, and apparently bring plenty of full carts! The scout must be going to tell the king.”

The Legionary raised an eyebrow, looking at the female gryphon through the corner of his eye. “In the middle of the commemorative feast?”

“King Goliath always welcomes the caravans with open arms. Considering how lacking they’ve been these past few years, this is a great thing.”

Discreetly reaching his bandaged side, the Legionary softly caressed his wound. “I could use a servant to take care of my house while I finish healing.”

“You can negotiate a price when they start the auction. Now stay steady. Professional.” Both gryphons remained motionless, only paying attention to the slowly approaching caravans.

Drakkar trotted his way ahead to meet the gryphon guards, saluting them by hitting his chest with a hoof. “þegn Drakkar Veiðǫrvarson of Scandineighvia.”

The female gryphon replied with a hit on her breastplate. “Centurion Gillian, second cohort of the fourth legion.” Trumpet sounds echoed across the sky, both gryphon guards straighten up and puffing out their chests. “King Goliath will meet you shortly.”

With a nod, Drakkar waved at the caravan and gestured at them to speed up. Megin-gjarð’s trotting sank his hooves on the soft ground as he slowly got next to the þegn. While keeping a formal pose, both guards looked up at the huge armored stallion that stood in front of them. Before anything could come out of their opened beaks, the gigantic city gates opened.

A committee of gryphons stood ceremoniously around a much larger one. Standing almost as tall as Megin-gjarð, the majestic creature stepped forward, his forehead decorated with a golden circlet with an encrusted ruby in the center. The light grey plumage that covered his upper half shone with a metallic glow that matched his bronze-colored beak. His lion half glittered with golden brightness. His presence cast an overwhelming aura of power as his piercing blue eyes glanced at the caravan.

Centurion Gillian announced the presence of the ruler. “Rex Imperator Goliath, ruler of the Gryphon Kingdom of the North!”

The Fimbulvetrian ponies saluted in perfect synchrony at the announcement, hitting their chests and slightly bowing their heads. Goliath spread his powerful wings to their full span, standing on her lion legs and offered his talon to Drakkar. “Well met, Fimbulvetrians. I welcome you to my kingdom.” When Drakkar moved his hoof for a shake, Goliath shook them with a firm grasp. A smirk formed in Goliath’s beak at the unicorn’s impassiveness. “Strong as usual! And loaded caravans, I see! Leave your soldiers taking care of the trading, I want you to come with me to our feast. I don’t want the attendants to be without me for long.”

“I’d be honored, Your Highness. My hófkarl would accompany me, if that’s not an inconvenience.”

“Far from an inconvenience, þegn.” Goliath looked into Megin-gjarð’s grey eyes, a broad smile prominently showing on his beak. “He might be able to entertain the attendants.”

“If I may make another request, Your Highness.” Drakkar turned to face Megin-gjarð and tilted his head towards the caravans. “Bring Chuluusüke.” As the huge earth pony walked towards the caravan, Drakkar returned his attention to Goliath. “Of all the Manegols we brought with us, one of them comes from a family of strong and capable warriors. With enough training combined with his innate skills, he could become one of the most competent gladiators your arena will see this century.”

Goliath stroked his beak as he scanned the earth pony Megin-gjarð was escorting. Chuluusüke’s strong yet slim legs trembled in presence of the imposing gryphon sovereign. Ignoring the colt’s fear, Goliath grabbed his head and moved his lips away to check his teeth and getting an overview of his well-toned torso. A smile twisted his beak as he nodded. “An acceptable specimen. You have a good eye for this, þegn.”

Drakkar remained steady, a small grin shining on his muzzle. “After years of fighting, you develop a keen eye for this sort of thing.”

“Very well, I’ll put this one away from the others and let the auctioneers focus on his skills as a gladiator.” The gryphon king turned around and gestured for Drakkar to follow him. “Now come, þegn. I don’t want to keep missing the commemorative feast.” With a powerful swoop of his wings, Goliath took off, staying in mid-air as he pointed at one of his followers. “Guide them to the palace.”

Every gryphon in the surroundings saluted as their ruler soared over the city towards the large, opulent building that rose in the distance, closely followed by most of his entourage. The gryphon walked up to Drakkar as he gestured to Gillian to follow him. “The young Legionnaire can handle guarding the gates for a short while. We’ll escort you two to the palace.”

-o-

For a land mostly populated by gryphons, everything was built on ground level, with only decorations going taller than usual. While their houses had walls, windows and a door, much like Equestrian and Fimbulvetrian households, their temples were much more different. Colossal buildings with only thick columns supporting a gigantic roof with reliefs of the deities they worshipped or battles they had fought.

During their trip to the palace they walked across the kingdom’s main agora: a large place in the outdoors where gryphons were selling their goods. The meat hanging on the stalls still dripped blood as if the piece had just been hunted. Drakkar paid close attention to the articles of clothing, most of them being togas of different sizes and short-sleeved tunics that resembled the Fimbulvetrian overtunic. Some designs were similar to the ones from their own land, but the holes for the wings were a deal breaker, and there was no time to ask for a version without them. Megin-gjarð simply moved forward without looking at the stands.

After a few minutes of further walking the colossal entryway of the palace became visible, menacingly standing among the other buildings. Marble columns with gold riveting and reliefs that resembled stylized claw scratches flanked the main wooden gates, on top of which the words ‘Aerie’s Peak’ had been carved. The building itself was almost entirely made of marble and ivory, with vivid colors decorating the walls and columns with scenes that depicted the history of the Gryphon Kingdom of the North.

Once Drakkar and Megin-gjarð crossed the gate, they stood inside the main room. Several gigantic tables had been set in a large, perfect square, and dozens of gryphons were rejoicing themselves in a luxurious feast. Large trays with steaks from different animals rested in the middle of the tables, alongside with several kinds of smoked fishes and fresh fruit. Manegol ponies quickly replaced the empty dishes with replete ones. Others walked over with large amphorae and poured their content in the cups of the gryphons who raised them.

Megin-gjarð stared with his eyes widely open, whispering to Drakkar. “By Þórshamarr, this is a feast worthy of Ásgarð!”

Gillian pointed at two vacant seats before bowing deeply before King Goliath and flying away from the palace. When they both sat on their places, Drakkar glanced over the gryphons in the hall. There was a male standing up among the attendants, talking and throwing punches and scratches in the air in front of him. The few that were paying attention to him drank from their cups and whispered to each other. “Whatever he’s talking about is either not worth listening to or a badly told story.”

Megin-gjarð looked at him through the corner of his eye, muttering to him. “What are you talking about?”

“Storytelling etiquette; I learned about it during my training as a skáld.” He discreetly tilted his head towards the speaking gryphon. “You know if those around you are hooked by your story by the way they behave. While in an inn, you know they’re listening to you, and not just hearing you, when they only drink when you make a pause to drink yourself, and you all order a new round. Pay attention to the crowd.”

Nodding briefly, Megin-gjarð scanned the rest of the gryphons. “So they don’t care about what he’s saying?”

Drakkar raised his cup, pretending to drink to cover his muzzle. “That or he’s mangling a story by telling it horribly. A good storyteller has to be able to see the reactions of their public and adapt the story accordingly, or simply stop telling a story when the group doesn’t like what they’re listening to.”

“Maybe these gryphons are hard to impress.”

“I haven’t listened to the story from the beginning, so I can’t judge it as a whole. All I can say is that he’s caught little attention from the crowd.”

“You haven’t missed anything worth listening to, Þegn.” The large gryphon next to Drakkar raised his own cup, letting out a chuckle through his grin at Drakkar’s widened eyes. “Giulio is one of the biggest braggarts our kingdom has. He’s a decent brawler, but far from as good as his babbling wants you to believe.” As Drakkar calmed down seeing the gryphon’s approving nods, they both took a sip of their cups. “You got everything right from him, and that only means that he could only be more obvious if his part eagle were a vulture instead.”

Drakkar raised an eyebrow. “So he butchers stories and mashes them up together?”

The gryphon nodded again. “I’ve recognized core parts of three stories I’ve heard from other gryphons before. And Giulio can’t even make those parts entertaining. I guess he likes listening to his own voice way too much. By the way, I’m Géralt.”

“Drakkar Veiðǫrvarson, and this is my hófkarl, Megin-gjarð Hǫggson.”

Géralt and Megin-gjarð raised their cups to each other in a silent greeting before the gryphon laid it on the table again. “You should delight us with some stories of your own. Something worth listening to, for a change.”

“I feel that most of my life was normal duty; fighting the Manegols, protecting the borders from the Úlfsvetir, taking down rogue jǫtnar…” Drakkar shrugged before taking a sip to his cup. “I guess I don’t feel it’s worth telling because it’s our daily bread, and while I’ve sung about it many times, the exceptional loses a lot of power when it becomes routine.”

“But every story is unique in its own way, and that makes them worth both telling and listening to.”

Drakkar smiled broadly. “That’s the kind of audience every storyteller likes having.”

“What can I say? I enjoy a good story every now and then. It’s the reason I rejoined the army after finishing my time there and getting discharged.”

With a raised eyebrow, Drakkar turned to face Géralt. “So you’re an Evocatus?”

“And proud of it.” A sigh escaped the gryphon’s beak, slightly twisted by a weak smile. “After years of training, patrolling and fighting, I got used to it, and there’s little to do for me as a citizen, so I rejoined.”

“I can relate to that.” Megin-gjarð stared down to his half-empty cup, letting out a short, sad sigh. “In a way, at least. When you’re like me, regardless of whatever skills you might have, you have to live with the fact that you’ll be a soldier forever. Enemies fear you in the battlefield; those who live around you fear you as well because rumors are spread. And when we moved to Equestria, everypony’s uncomfortable when I’m around.” With a shake of his head, the huge stallion got the cup close to his muzzle. “Fear is all I inspire, and it’s something that becomes harder to deal with as years pass.”

Géralt frowned before looking the female gryphon that sat in front of Megin-gjarð. She shared his crimson-tip plumage with him, as well as the strong build still suggestive of her underlying feminity. Géralt muffled a chuckle at the sight of the female gryphon, slowly scanning the huge stallion as he caressed the mouth of her cup with the tip of her talon. “I’m not one to correct without evidence of my words, but you seem to inspire something aside from fear on my sister Gorgon.”

Both ponies shared confused stares before discreetly turning to face the female gryphon, who pointed at Megin-gjarð while holding her cup and gave him an approving nod. Megin-gjarð took a long sip to cover his furious blush and whisper to Drakkar. “Drakkar, what do I do now?”

Drakkar’s eyes widened before he swiftly turned to face his friend. “And you’re asking me why exactly?”

“You’re the married one; you know how to deal with this sort of thing!”

Géralt covered his beak with a talon to muzzle the burst of laughter. “So unused to getting attention from females, soldier?” The gryphon’s smile slowly faded when Megin-gjarð sank his muzzle into his cup. “Oh… my apologies, soldier. If you want my advice, though, I’d recommend to tell a story of your own. You’ve caught Gorgon’s attention with your presence; you might catch her interest if you impress her with a good story.”

Drakkar tapped the table, making a barely audible yet rhythmic pattern with his hoof. “And you are okay with your sister getting romantic with a pony?”

Géralt raised an eyebrow, tilting his head as he whispered at the unicorn. “I don’t remember mentioning anything related to romance there, did I?”

After focusing again on Gorgon, Drakkar’s ears perked up when the true intentions barely hidden in her eyes. “Oh. Oh, I see!” A chuckle escaped his muzzle at Megin-gjarð’s attempts at covering his blush. “Well, that’s something he’ll be grateful for as well.”

“We’re not that into romance as a country, Þegn, though that doesn’t mean we don’t marry and all that. It’s just that the survival of the fittest goes first for most, if not all, of us. So the ones who prove to give the strongest offsprings are the ones the other sex compete for the most.” Géralt took a sip from his cup, eyeing at Megin-gjarð with a concealed smile. “And while a lot of my folk discriminate, many others take our maxim literally and don’t mind going for interracial breeding.”

Drakkar blinked as he stared at his half-full cup. “So there are hybrids of ponies and gryphons? That’s the first time I hear about it!”

“That’s because ponies outdoing gryphons are seldom seem around these parts. Sure, unicorn magic is outstanding, but we’re more about physical strength and power, because that’s all what we are about.” With an exaggerated shrug, Géralt leaned on his chair before resuming his talk. “What’s the point of mating with a unicorn if that power isn’t going to manifest on our hippogryph hatchlings?”

“I’m just glad that I’m married already, then.” Both Drakkar and Géralt burst into laughter, soon having all the eyes in the room focused on them. With a raised hoof and talon respectively, they apologized for the interruption.

Giulio huffed with his forelegs crossed in front of his feather-covered chest, a cocky smirk twisting his beak. “If you have a story to tell good enough to interrupt me with, I don’t see why you shouldn’t share it.”

Géralt raised his cup, a challenging smile across his face. “Giulio, the sound of wine pouring into my cup is more than enough for me to interrupt your babbling, because it precedes the delicious beverage I’ll get to drink.”

Giulio gritted his beak as the remaining gryphons laughed loudly. “Very well, Géralt. Let’s hear your story, then!”

“Actually, I think the stallion here has a story that we’ll enjoy.” Géralt moved his cup towards Megin-gjarð, whose eyes widened before looking at the strongly-built gryphon.

“Me? B-but I’m not a skáld as my þegn here!”

“I gave you a few tips, so you should do fine.” Drakkar rested his hoof on Megin-gjarð’s shoulder while giving him a cheerful smile. “Besides, you have much more amusing stories to tell. Remember what happened last year when we returned to Ponyville after the alþing?” The huge pony stroke his beard as he looked to the ceiling. Drakkar smiled as his friend’s eyes widened and he turned to face the þegn. “That one might work.”

Megin-gjarð replied with a brief nod. “Yes, I can tell that one.”

With several loud claps, Géralt summoned the attention of every gryphon in the room. “Alright, we have a new story! Let’s see what Fimbulvetrian warriors are made of!”

Megin-gjarð took a deep break with his eyes closed, slightly shivering at the pat Drakkar gave to his back. When the huge earth pony turned to face his friend, they nodded at each other. Resting both his hooves on the table, Megin-gjarð began the story. “It happened five seasons ago, in the usually peaceful land of Ponyville. The land lives under a threatening veil caused by the presence of a forest where creatures that defy the limits of what most ponies can achieve. And one of those monstrosities spawned from the direst of nightmares had become greedy for more territory to call its own. We returned from Fimbulvetr to hear the news of the town’s recent archenemy, and heard that the ruler of the town had tried to summon a militia, but when only three ponies finally volunteered, she refused to send them, fearing they’ll only serve as a small feast for the mighty beast.”

Resting his weight on his forehooves, Megin-gjarð leaned forward, slowly looking down as the table trembled under his massive body. He slowly sat again on the chair, crossing his forelegs in front of his strong chest. “There were always stories that had happened to somepony else, yet never first hoof experiences. I talked to Drakkar while on our way home. ‘For the sake of the safety of your family and yourself, I shall ask where the lair of the beast lies and I shall put its life to an end.” He stood in front of me and offered his hoof to me, demanding my part of our luggage. Once he had everything on him, he replied “you are free to go, but remember to bring a token that proves your victory over whatever is terrifying Ponyville. Bring something that will inspire every skáld in our land to sing about Megin-gjarð Hǫggson, feared by Manegols, Jǫtnar and beasts alike!’ And so he left with his wife and foals as I moved to the town hall to offer my strong hooves to protect them from the monster.”

As Megin-gjarð grabbed his cup to drink half of its content in a gulp, Drakkar took a short sip while checking on the gryphons around him. A proud smile escaped from his lips as the crowd stared at his friend, some of them taking quick sips during the short break. Most of them had leaned slightly forward to try not to miss anything. The þegn nodded in approval as he rested the cup on the table.

When done drinking, Megin-gjarð lowered his drink heavily next to a plate with boar stakes before resuming the store. “When I arrived at the town hall I pushed the doors open and they slammed against the walls with the sound of thunder. The mayor and her assistant rushed to the entryway. The mayor screamed ‘Who are you and how dare you to come inside my hall in such a violent manner? Say your business and leave, lest I summon security to kick you out. Ponyville is going through dire times, and the last thing we need is more troublemakers taking advantage of the reigning mayhem.’”

Drakkar covered his mouth with a hoof to muffle a chuckle at Megin-gjarð’s singing of Mayor Mare’s lines. While he wasn’t there, the þegn clearly heard the mayor’s screams at his hófkarl’s violent entrance in the town hall.

Megin-gjarð hit himself on the chest before continuing the story, speaking louder. “At her words I replied ‘I am Megin-gjarð, son of Hǫgg Stálhǫfsson, Hófkarl at the service of þegn Drakkar Veiðǫrvarson of Scandineighvia from the Kingdom of Fimbulvetr. I’ve fought in dozens of battles and have lived to sing about them. I was there during the great battle against the Northern gryphons that ended up in an alliance between both lands. I have fought against our Manegol rivals in many battles, and when they see me standing over my pony warrior folks their sabers and bows tremble. Even the mighty rogue Jǫtnar, enemies of the Æsir and Vanir, have learned better than to test their might against me. I’ve heard about the beast that haunts Ponyville, and I offer my strong hooves to give it death so your town can live in peace once more.’”

The huge stallion took a short break to drink again, and the whole room followed suit. Drakkar’s grin remained concealed behind his own cup as he scanned the room. Gorgon still paid close attention to Megin-gjarð, but he raised an eyebrow when he noticed that a few more female gryphons that had a similar look on their faces, all of them focused on the hófkarl.

Megin-gjarð left the cup on the table, and every attendant did the same. “The Mayor then replied to me. ‘I have tried to summon a group of ponies that would keep the beast away from Ponyville, but I didn’t get enough to consider the mission worth succeeding. I admire your courage, but I didn’t send three stallions to their deaths and I won’t let only one charge against certain demise.’ To her words I talked back. ‘I fear nothing that can die in any way, lady of this land. Guide me to wherever the beast lurks and I shall bring a token that proves that the monster is no longer a threat.’ She frowned at my persistence, clear as it was that she was hesitant to send me there, thinking I would die. But her assistant walked towards me and said ‘I can see determination on your eyes, and your attitude backs your words. You come to us in times of aid, but we fear losing citizens whose lives are lost for naught. You speak with confidence and bravery, so I will tell you this: There is a bog in the Everfree Forest; the beast calls that place its lair. Godspeed, brave stallion, and may your strength suffice to save us all.’”

Pointing in front of him, Megin-gjarð kept talking, a smile slowly brightening his face as it shyly showed behind his bushy beard. “Both mares bade me farewell, and prayed for my safe return. My mind lacked any trace of hesitation as I walked towards the forest and ponies walked away from my path. They called me a fool, suicidal, reckless and many more insults that had no effect on me. Those who are weak avoid danger, but those who are strong seek it to test themselves. And so I ended up walking through an army of mockeries not worth paying attention to until I reached the Everfree Forest. I can tell, and it’s as true as the fact that I’m here talking to you right now, that the trees there are so common that you can only see figments of sunlight shyly allowing inhabitants and casual dwellers alike to see when inside the forest.”

Megin-gjarð stopped for a moment to finish the drink, as did all the gryphons in the room. With a snap of King Goliath’s talons, several Manegol mares and stallions rushed with large amphorae and refilled the attendants’ cups. Drakkar nodded at the Manegol mare that served him, thanking her with a whispered “Gjalajlaa.” The pony showed a weak smile, nodding back before leaving to finish serving the rest of the gryphons.

While the servants finished filling the cups, Megin-gjarð resumed the story. “The stench of the bog became more intense as I got closer. The vile odors of the filthy depositions of the beast and the leftovers of a fly-infested forgotten meal were a mixture that would made the sturdiest of ponies to vomit. Despite the foul bouquet I screamed at the bog. ‘Bog dweller, rise from your lair and fight against your executioner! You will not bring terror into anypony’s heart ever again!’ To the challenge a beast rose, a large head with a mouth that showed deadly rows of fangs stained with dry blood. Another head showed up, and another one, and then a fourth one. Nopony told me that the monster were actually several of them, but alas, when the heads rose from the murky water I saw the beast as a whole. Connected by long necks to a giant torso with two mighty legs and a sturdy tail, the beast roared with all its mouths and charged against me, mostly likely thinking that now its meals were coming all the way towards it instead of having to hunt it itself.”

Muttering and gasps followed Megin-gjarð’s drinking break. Drakkar hid a smirk behind his cup as he scanned the gryphons in the room, with more females focusing their lustful stares on his comrade.

The huge stallion returned to telling the story. “The monster had four heads, but I can assure you that it was none the wiser for that. I would use my trusty iron shield to pack an even stronger punch that would throw one of the attacking heads against the others to have them explode in rage, as if they blamed each other for their incompetence. Once I blocked one of its mouths with my shield, and seeing me struggling against it, another head tried to bite my head off. I was able to grab the one that was trying to devour me and pulled her closer to me, and the beast bit itself. Its screams of pain quickly turned into screams of animal rage, and with a twist of its body that was faster than you could believe a beast of its size could achieve, whipped me with its tail and threw me against a large tree that broke due to the impact. My shield left my foreleg, and the monster took advantage of the situation. Fearing the mighty iron I had stroke it with several times before, it crunched it and spat it inside the bog.”

Clenching the cup while showing a deep frown, Megin-gjarð hit himself on the chest with his free hoof. “The beast had invoked my ire and it didn’t even know it, for that shield has been with me for far longer than any other object I’ve ever had. It had helped me to deflect the mightiest blows from the raging Jǫtnar. I had bashed enemy skulls with the same ease a mountain lion bites a fish’s head off. The monster thought I was powerless, and underestimating me would be its doom. For to me, everything I can pick is a weapon on my strong hooves. The tree I had been thrown against served me well as an improvised colossal club. With a powerful swing that hit the beast’s body, I threw it in the air, and what a thunderous sound it made when it crashed on the floor.”

The whole room followed Megin-gjarð’s drinking break. Not a single gryphon refused to pay attention to his story, and Drakkar smiled proudly at it. The males stared at his hófkarl in awe, while every remaining female that weren’t already one step from pouncing all over him had started paying close attention to everything the huge stallion had to say.

Resting the cup on the table, Megin-gjarð resumed telling the story. “And thus I charged against the monster, wielding my new weapon to give death to it. But alas, the creature refused to give up, and so it got up charged against me. I raised the tree to protect me from the attack as the beast started crunching the trunk with all its mouths and spitting large chunks of my weapon. Before it could leave me weaponless for a second time I hurled the tree at it, hitting it in its several necks, trapping them under its weight. The creature struggled to set itself free, but the victory was already mine. Slow as my size forces me to be, I rushed at the monster and rested my hooves heavily on the trunk and pushed it down. The mighty and menacing roars of the beast slowly left room for barely audible grunts as it wasted its remaining strengths in trying to move me from on top of it. It felt as if the struggle lasted for hours, but soon the beast suffocated, all of its heads becoming motionless. The threat that terrified Ponyville was no more.”

Taking a deep breath, Megin-gjarð searched under his ox pelt and showed a necklace made out of fangs. “I jumped into the bog to recover my shattered shield to get it fixed. Once my faithful companion was with me, I fulfilled the oath I mad to my þegn and took several fangs from the deceased beast. When I went back to Ponyville and showed them as evidence of my feats, many cheers boomed throughout the town, and this necklace was crafted from those fangs. Each of them has a rune carved that summons the ferocity of the powerful enemy to aid me in battle.”

Drakkar let out a short sigh as the story was over. Looking at his friend through the corner of his eye, the þegn drank from his own cup. Ponyville wasn’t the kind of place where Fimbulvetrian heroes were openly welcome. It was true that a few of them were happy about being free from the threat, but many more were terrified at the idea of having a neighbor mighty enough to slay a hydra by himself. Heroes seldom had the same treatment in different kingdoms, and the Fimbulvetrian kind wasn’t unappreciated in Equestria, but nopony wanted their relatives or friends to have them as examples to follow.

The room exploded in applauses, and even Goliath himself nodded and clapped in unison with the rest of his subjects. With a furious blush, Megin-gjarð took a long sip from his drink. As the palace slowly returned to silence Gorgon’s wings flapped, lifting a gentle breeze that shook the huge stallion’s mane ever so slightly.

“I wonder what you are doing wasting time among gryphons.” The gryphon leaned forward and rested her elbow on the table, giving Megin-gjarð a brazen smile. “Or is this mighty stud looking forward to expanding horizons?”

The huge pony’s eyes opened wide, spitting the wine all over Gorgon and coughing with a thundering echo that resonated across the palace’s main room. While most male gryphons stared at Megin-gjarð and the remaining females threw dire glares at Gorgon, both Géralt and Drakkar covered their mouths with their respective cups to hide their barely contained chuckles.

With lavish eyes fixed on the suffocating stallion, she slowly cleaned the wine off her plumage. “You have the right idea, but wine wasn’t what I had in mind. And don’t worry; my feathers should start moulting in about a week, so you can go wild.” Megin-gjarð slowly recovered, clenching his neck between heavy gasps of air. Once the huge stallion had let out a relieved sigh, a chuckled escaped Gorgon’s beak. She playfully moved her cup in circles before speaking. “It takes much more than that for me to choke myself, you know? Gryphons are quite fond of swallowing things whole.”

Megin-gjarð raised a hoof, looking down at the table while letting out a short grunt. “Alright, enough with that.”

Goliath stood up and clapped his talons together, making everybody in the room to look at him. “We have heard a story that has impressed us, Megin-gjarð. I’m interested in seeing this might of yours in action myself. If your þegn allows it, I’d be honored to have you participating in our Pankration tournament starting tomorrow.”

Drakkar nodded with an approving smile. “He has my permission if he’s willing to do so.”

Megin-gjarð saluted with a hoof to the chest. “I will be honored, Rex Imperator Goliath.”

“Excellent, then!” The large gryphon returned to his seat, leaning back as a couple pony servants rushed to his side and began fanning him.

The huge stallion got up from the tabling, bowing at the king. “If would like to go rest for the night, Your Highness.”

“You may, warrior. May your blows strike true and give us a show to remember.”

Drakkar raised his cup to his friend as Megin-gjarð walked behind him. “We have the camping set where we arrived. I’ll stay here for a bit longer.” As the huge stallion left the palace, the unicorn focused his attention on Gorgon, who followed Megin-gjarð’s walking away with a deep frown.

-o-

Megin-gjarð walked heavily under the Moon’s dim light on his way to the camping where the rest of the crew were staying. With a long, audible sigh, the huge stallion looked around him, surrounded by the empty stands at the agora. The only sound was the one his heavy hoofsteps made on the embellished mosaic on the floor. Overlooked at first due to the alacrity of the meeting at Aerie’s Peak, Megin-gjarð looked down and noticed the outstanding craft that represented King Goliath, unarmored, pouncing against a group of fully armed minotaurs.

Megin-gjarð’s ears flickered at the sound of something flying over him. He took a defensive stance, bending his four legs, as the visitor landed in front of him with fully spread wings. With a frown, the female gryphon’s chest puffed out, the red on the tip of her feathers becoming slightly more noticeable.

The huge stallion blinked, changing to a relaxed position. “Gorgon?”

“I know what you’re trying to do, and I hate when males play hard to get.” Gorgon pointed at him with a talon, the plumage behind her neck straightening up. “I don’t know how common that is back in your place, but here things are different. I’ve been the female champion for four years in a row! Every male worth their reputation is begging for me to go with them! And you, slayer of hydras or not, are not going to reject me like that!”

Megin-gjarð stared blankly at her, letting himself fall on the pebbly mosaic. As his rump landed on the floor, the air flew out of his lungs. He shook his head before speaking. “You… you really meant what you said at Aerie’s Peak?”

“Are you out of your mind?” Gorgon snarled as she stood on her lion legs, opening her talons as her wings flapped to maintain the balance. Megin-gjarð remained motionless while staring at her with widened eyes and a dropped jaw. Despite her angry, heavy breathing and barely contained talons, she stared into his eyes, and the expression of honest awe made her frown fade away. “You… you’re not joking. You really thought that I—”

Megin-gjarð closed his eyes shut before massaging his forehead with a hoof. “Gorgon, I honestly beg for your forgiveness if I have offended you. It’s just that…” Drakkar trailed off for a moment, looking around him as a long sigh escaped his lips. “You’re the first female that has ever talked to me like that.”

“Oh, come on! You’re a so-called hero in Ponyville!” Gorgon folded her wings, waking around him in an attempt to keep eye contact. “I’m sure you’ve been flirted with. You said it in the story!”

“If only that part was true.” With a grunt, Megin-gjarð got up from the mosaic, looking at Gorgon through the corner of the eye. “I don’t feel comfortable talking about it.”

Letting out a roguish smile, Gorgon turned away. “Well, I don’t want my potential breeding partners to keep stuff secret from me.”

The slow, vigorous sound of Megin-gjarð’s hoofsteps came to a sudden halt. The stallion stood on the spot for a moment before turning to face the gryphon. “B-breeding partner?”

With a gentle waggle of her lion tail, Gorgon turned to face the stallion, wings fully spread. “Well, of course. Most gryphons aren’t into marrying, but the strongest and most capable of us mate to have the strongest offspring, among other reasons.” The gryphon stretched her body, her chest feathers caressing the ground as her rump remained up high. Her voice changed to a more alluring pitch. “And your beastslaying tale surely earned you the attention of many a female back there.”

Megin-gjarð covered his muzzle with a hoof, muffling the chuckle that followed the furious blush. “I’m quite proud of what I did that day, yes.”

“So tell me, slayer of monsters, why are you here acting as a bodyguard and not siring a small army of foals?” Gorgon’s playful smile faded when Megin-gjarð looked away from her with a grim frown twisting his face.

“I’m considered a monster in my homeland; a cursed spawn with Jǫtunn blood. Rumors started when I was young, and Jǫtunsson… was a common name they’d call me.” The huge stallion snarled as his heavy hoofsteps echoed in the empty agora. “And Equestrians say only that I would not stop growing.” A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he slowly turned with saddened eyes to face Gorgon. “They’re uncomfortable around me as well.”

“You still have enough strength to strangle a hydra.”

Megin-gjarð walked closer to the female gryphon before sitting in front of her. “I’ve been strong for as long as I can remember, and my large size only made it more obvious to me that I had to be a warrior.”

“If I may ask, what does your name stand for?”

Megin-gjarð rolled his eyes, letting out a low yet noticeable grunt. “I don’t like to translate my name. It stands for... Power Girdle or something like that.”

A chuckle escaped Gorgon’s beak. “A fitting name. And I also like your Fimbulvetrian name better.”

Furiously blushing, Megin-gjarð looked away and to the ground. “I… I appreciate your words.”

Gorgon rested her spread talons on his chest, pushing him until he fell on his back without offering resistance. With widened eyes, he watched how the gryphon sat on top of him. “And now to the important part.” The sensual smile and lust-filled eyes she shot at the stallion quickened his breathing. Gorgon chuckled at how she heaved up and down while sitting on his chest. “You are going to be part of the Pankration tournament. You have a chance to prove that you are indeed the warrior that can slay a hydra on your own.” The gryphon leaned forward, allowing her feathers to caress his chest as he approached her beak to his ear. “Show me the steel behind your words, beastslayer, and I will show you the mesmerizing wonders that lie between my lion legs.” Resting her weight on Megin-gjarð for impulse, Gorgon took off, turning around to see how the stallion rolled on his belly, looking away with a visible grin. “No sneak peek? Well, you aren’t getting any either. Anyways, I’ll see you at the tournament tomorrow.”

A strong swoop of her wings lifted her to the sky and she disappeared in the distance. Megin-gjarð remained lying on the floor, breathing slowly as he looked around the deserted surroundings. The chilling breeze and the cold stone were both welcome to ease the stallion’s current condition for him to return to his tent to rest for the night.

Módrinn af hestvirdinginu

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Móðrinn af hestvirðinginu (The wrath of the honorable stallion)

Trumpets echoed across the gigantic colosseum followed by the attending gryphons’ sudden standing up to get a better view. From his silver throne, Goliath grinned while tapping a short melody on one of the armrests. With a gentle leaning of his head towards his left, the gryphon king gestured a Manegol servant carrying a tray to come closer.

“You will see today, þegn Drakkar, that not only my military is trained to fight.” As soon as the Manegol trotted to his side, Goliath stretched his arm and grabbed one of the cups the servant was carrying. “Take the other one, þegn; a good drink goes great with a good fight.”

“Most appreciated, your Highness.” A brown magic aura enveloped the other cup before floating to Drakkar’s hoof. After giving a thankful nod to the servant, the unicorn turned his attention to the king. “You were saying that not only your military was trained to fight.”

“Every male and female goes through basic military training, which allows for some outstanding exhibitions.” The king rests the edge of his cup on his beak and takes a long sip. “It is rare, but refreshing to see a promising youngster taking down a veteran soldier in single combat. And having superb close combat expertise is a given on any high ranking officer worth their name.”

“You speak the truth, your Highness, but what is the motivation these soldiers of yours have?”

Goliath turned to face Drakkar, a baffled expression twisting his face. “What do you mean? What greater motivation and honor can there be than serving as soldiers of the most powerful nations?” With a swift gesture that threatened to spill some of his wine, the king pointed at Drakkar. “What is your motivation? You, who rides a bear into the battlefield, mauling enemy lines? Where is the stallion that stood in front of the most impossible of odds for honor and glory? Where’s the paragon of honor your folk are so proud of?”

Ignoring the king’s inquisitive stare, Drakkar closed his eyes as he moved the cup in small circles in mid-air. “There’s always something more, King Goliath. Some of us take longer to find out than others, and an unfortunate few never do. As a soldier, I never fought because I wanted to.” The unicorn’s calm expression slowly switched to a stern look that met Goliath’s. “I fought because I had to. Honor and glory are a given in most battles, but that’s not the reason I stand against an enemy.”

A loud huff escaped Goliath’s lips, shaking his head. “What has happened to you, Drakkar?”

“There are more reasons for me to come back alive than for dying heroically in battle, fighting until my body can’t take it anymore.” Drakkar looked down inside his cup, the wine shining at the few sunrays that lightened it. “Back in the days of old, I fought because there would be honor and respect for my family when I went to war, regardless of me returning alive or not. It was what they expected from me, and I was more than happy to deliver.” With a gentle shake of his head, Drakkar rested an elbow on the armrest and lay his cheek on his hoof. “Now I have a little nephew that looks up to me, even if I am seldom in the land that saw me grow. And, more importantly, I have a wife and two foals to support. I have to teach them the ways of the North, and I want to see them become ponies of honor.”

Goliath looked to his right, where the princess sat escorted by two gryphon soldiers and a Manegol servant that held a large fan that covered her face from direct sunlight. “I can understand that feeling of worry, but I have never cowered away from a battle.”

“You have the means so others can take care of your daughter, but even if I had them, I prefer seeing my foals slowly becoming worthy ponies.”

A growl escaped through the gryphon king’s gritted teeth, the metal cup getting slowly crushing under his powerful grasp. “Bear in mind, þegn, that despite being a guest of honor, I will never tolerate any mortal to question my skill in the battlefield! I have never been injured, or lost a battle for that matter, in my over fifty years of life.”

With a shrug, Drakkar took a sip from his own cup before replying. “Even the mightiest warlords can make a mistake, and the clumsiest warrior can get an instant of clarity that would allow him to mortally wound an obviously far superior combatant. It is rare, of course, but when you have others to take care of, you don’t risk yourself unless it’s really necessary.”

“And you think anyone would be able to defeat me, the son of Ares and half-brother to Phobos and Deimos?” Goliath hit his chest, a proud grin showing in his beak as a threatening glare focused on the unicorn. “My father brought me to this world so I could rule this land following his divine word! No mortal can match me in a fight!”

“You speak as if you have never experienced the pain of a broken bone or an open wound.” Drakkar’s reaction made the king laugh loudly.

“You finally get it, Drakkar. I am a demigod! My power goes beyond whatever you can imagine. It is why I allowed whoever could defeat me in a fight to marry my daughter.”

The unicorn blinked several times before being able to mutter. “Why would you do that? I am aware of arranged marriages, but this is nothing like that.”

”If there’s a way I can assure the strength of my descendants, it is by finding a mate that puts up a fight.”

“Even after you just admitted to be invincible?”

Goliath grunted. “Whoever wants my daughter as their wife will have to walk over me; and I’ll only allow that if they’re actually able to do it literally.”

The mutterings of the crowd became loud enough to prevent any sort of coherent conversation as the first contestant walked into the arena. Followed by a gryphon with a white toga, the huge earth pony walked straight to the center of the amphitheater. The lack of clouds allowed the sunrays to bathe Megin-gjarð, his eyes covered in the shadows his mane projected. The huge stallion moved his head to check the surroundings as the sand crunched under his hooves. All the attending gryphons looked down at him from their upper positions, sharing short sentences about the upcoming battle. An elder gryphon with a white toga greeted the stallion with a deep bow before reminding him about the rules of the competition.

Drakkar smiled from his seat, scratching his cheek before turning to Goliath. “This one shouldn’t take long.”

A devilish smile twisted the king’s beak. ”Of course it will; only the finest gryphons join this tournament. Your bodyguard, large and mighty as he is, has no chance against my finest warriors.”

“I wouldn’t underestimate Megin-gjarð, your Highness.“ With a proud smile, Drakkar finished his drink, leaving the empty cup on the armrest. “We are also strong fighters despite lacking your military discipline. My hǫfkarl is a veteran strongpony, earning the title of strongest stallion in Fimbulvetr the four times he joined the competition.”

Goliath shrugged, gesturing with his talon for the servant to return. “So he can lift large boulders; that doesn’t make him a worthy warrior.”

“In that case, let’s see what his rival has to say about it.”

As Megin-gjarð crushed the sand under his weight with his heavy hooves, the gryphon contestant flew over the arena, hovering with his wings fully spread to cast a shadow that covered the center of the Colosseum. With a sudden dive, followed by a powerful flap of his wings that scattered sand all over the place, the gryphon landed on his four, his bright red cap slowly falling over his shoulders and covering his body.

Megin-gjarð raised an eyebrow, scratching the back of his neck before speaking. “Giulio. I remember you from the feast last night.” He shook his head while letting out a short, rasping sigh. “I sincerely hope you have more to yourself than this show.”

“These are bragging rights, Earth pony.” Giulio clawed the ground with every step, his pompous cape moving to the gentle breeze. “And today I shall defeat the stallion that killed a hydra!”

“It fills me with honor, gryphon, knowing that my story has struck you to such depth.”

Giulio let out a short snarl, clenching his talons as the huge pony returned a roguish smile. “You are fortunate that I can’t just slice your throat open with the same claws I have ripped many apart.” With a quick gesture, Giulio took off his cape and hastily flapped his wings, creating a gust that made his piece of clothing fly away to the seats. “You might be able to stand a chance, but I am more cunning than any beast, no matter how many heads they might have.” The gryphon stood on his lion legs, closing his talons as he smiled once more.

Megin-gjarð raised his forehooves, standing on his hind legs in neighing position for a moment. After a few seconds, the huge stallion slammed the ground with both hooves, the thunderous blast reverberating throughout the arena. “Show me the steel behind your words.”

A devilish grin twisted Giulio’s beak, his tail playfully drawing circles in mid-air. “Ready when you are, Jǫtunsson.”

The stallion’s ears perked up in an instant as he stared at the gryphon with widened eyes. As Megin-gjarð leaned forward while showing a dire frown, his short, brunet tail whipped the air. Guttural growls escaped through his gritted teeth. “What did you call me?”

“What everyone calls you, Earth Pony. The rumors are well known across the land, and you are quite a legend.” With a powerful flap of his wings, Giulio took off, creating a dust cloud that covered his previous position. The swift tackle against Megin-gjarð’s left side made the stallion let out a short, barely audible grunt. Giulio fell to the ground with a loud oomph, only to see the large stallion stomping the ground and galloping to trample him. Another swoop of his wings lifted Giulio from the ground, creating another dust cloud that covered his swift retreat. As the large earth pony shook his hooves to move the cloud away, Giulio dove from the sky on top of Megin-gjarð’s back. The gryphon clenched his mane and pressed his lion legs against the stallion’s sides to keep himself from being taken down.

“Get off me, charlatan, and fight like the warrior you boast about being!”

The huge stallion bucked the air trying to throw the gryphon from on top of him. Giulio had held the pony’s neck in a strong grapple, his talons shaking as he used all his strength to try and choke him. Huffs escaped through the gryphon’s beak as he spoke. “Strong and big as a Jǫtunn, and I see you share their lack of wits as well!” Giulio jumped back and to the left, away from him to avoid a head butt, landing on the ground in front of the furious Earth pony. Even in front of the menacing sight, the gryphon didn’t lose the devilish grin. “Slow and predictable. If you are the best your kingdom has, this won’t be worth singing about.”

Megin-gjarð roared as he charged towards the gryphon, to which Giulio chuckled as he flew to his left to avoid the attack. The walls of the Colosseum trembled slightly as the juggernaut crashed against it, grunting and rubbing his right shoulder. Giulio’s smile vanished for an instant as the huge stallion turned to face him, a vicious snarl finding its way through his clenched teeth. “Shut your beak, gryphon!”

Giulio stared at the growling warrior before him, regaining his composure and taking a preemptive step back and bending his lion legs. “No pony gives me orders, half-blooded or not!” After speaking those words, he gryphon pounces forward, throwing a quick uppercut at the stallion’s chin that only gave an annoyed in return. The swift wing-over to the left allowed Giulio to move away before Megin-gjarð stomped right where the gryphon was a moment ago.

The heavy step of the huge stallion crushed the sand under his hooves as his ears kept folded back, hidden inside his mane. “The moment I get my hooves on you, braggart, will be your last; you have my word.”

“Your words have as much worth as your mixed blood, Jǫtunsson.” The stallion rushes towards him, a tackle that was again dodge with an effortless jump to the left from the gryphon rival. Giulio’s confident grin faded for a brief moment as a sardonic smile twisted Megin-gjarð’s muzzle.

From their seats, the attendants booed at the tasteless show. Giulio’s eyes moved to scan the public. “You hear them, big guy. I’m going to have to take you down the fast way.” The gryphon flapped his wings with swift motions, lifting a cloud of dust around him, speaking while taking an offensive stance. “Let me show you the rampant ferocity of the gryphon Pankration. You will end up more ravaged than you mother’s loin after taking the seed of the giants!”

Megin-gjarð’s legs shook as he lowered his head, eyes close shut and gritted teeth grinding with a barely audible rasp. When the stallion looked up at the gryphon, his eyes opened to throw the primal glare of a predator. His guttural scream boomed across the arena. “Ek mun drep þík!” After roaring the sworn oath, Megin-gjarð charged once more, crying in seething fury towards Giulio while raising a hoof. When the gryphon jumped to the left, the stallion bucked the ground and followed the gryphon, stretching his foreleg and grabbing one of his lion legs.

Giulio’s eyes widened as his face grew pale under his feathers as the iron grip around his lower half tightened. A loud roar rasped Megin-gjarð’s throat as he slammed the gryphon’s back against the floor, knocking the air out of his lungs. The impact had shattered the bones of Giulio’s wings, as well as breaking several ribs. His screams of agony intensified as the broken ribcage that had always protected his lungs until that moment were puncturing them every time he tried to recover his breath or keep on expressing his ordeal as loudly as he would like to. Giulio gritted his teeth as he tried to roll on the floor to try and get up, his broken wings uselessly hanging to his sides. His attempts to kick his lion leg free from the titanic grip were to no avail, as were using his talons to drag himself away from the fight.

With a quick pull of his hoof, the stallion turned Giulio face up again, grabbing him from the plumage of his chest and lifting him from the ground to stare him in the eyes. “Pray to whatever gods you worship, gryphon, for I will send you to the lands of Hel with my bare hooves!”

Giulio shook his head, tears flowing down his cheeks as he reached his right foreleg with the left one, grunting as he raised it and pointed at the sky. The shaky limbs barely held themselves raised, but it was enough for the elder gryphon step forward and call the combat to a halt. “He has surrendered. The fight is over.” Megin-gjarð looked at the referee through the corner of his eyes for a moment before turning his attention back to the pile of broken bones and agony that remained of Giulio.

King Goliath got up from his throne, speaking over the crowd’s booing. “Not yet!” Next to him, an infuriated Drakkar had his attention focused on the large gryphon as the attendants ceased their complaining. “This is the best my kingdom has to offer? Giulio, you have insulted the prestige of this centuries-old tournament with your childish excuse of a fight! And I refuse to allow worthless warriors to take places of more competent contestants!” Goliath then raised his left talon, closed into a fist before stretching the thumb downwards, getting a collective gasp from the audience. “Megin-gjarð, you have my permission to kill your contestant!”

The large stallion nodded to the words before turning to face the referee, who took a step back and crossed his forelegs in front of his chest. “You heard him.”

Giulio’s strength had already faded away, his forelegs hanging to his sides just as his broken wings. His tears and muttered begs for mercy between short, quick breaths he was able to take without getting hurt didn’t seem to have any effect on the huge earth pony. With a fierce growl, Megin-gjarð stood on his hind legs, still holding the grip on Giulio’s chest. Despite the injured gryphon’s shake of his head, the hófkarl growled his enemy’s epitaph. “I am Megin-gjarð, son of Hǫgg Stálhǫfsson and Miskunn Varðadóttir. I have served in the armies of Fimbulvetr for over twenty years. And I won’t allow any creature, mortal or divine, to insult the honor of my family, much less a worthless braggart!”

Megin-gjarð pulled his free fore hoof back, grunting between his gritted teeth, his eyes piercing through the begging gaze of Giulio. With a loud roar, the stallion punched the gryphon on the left check with the rage he hadn’t been able to drive away. A loud crack made the referee’s eyes widen as Giulio’s neck broke and his head rested on his lifeless shoulder. Silence overcame the Colosseum as Megin-gjarð landed back on his four and let his former rival fall to the arena. The referee took as step to the side and gestured towards the huge door of the building, to which the stallion nodded and walked away, a sorrowful frown on his face.

-o-

On the royal box, Goliath’s clenching of the armrests had lightly damaged them. Drakkar remained motionless with a frown on his face, ignoring the servants and their wine offerings. With a loud growl, the unicorn threw the almost empty cup against a wall before getting up from his seat. “I refuse to watch this any longer!”

“þegn Drakkar, wait!” Goliath stood up from his throne, flying his way in front of the unicorn. “Neither of us is satisfied with this, but you have my word as the ruler of this land, that this mockery will not happen again.” Drakkar shook his head, but the gryphon kind kept talking to him. ”I am as insulted by this... thing as you are. This will not stand. In the meantime, please, take your seat. I will make them bring us some aged Falernian wine for us to enjoy.”

One of the gryphon guards turned to face the king, a scorned frown on his face. “With all due respect, Your Highness—” The menacing glare of the king forced the guard’s beak shut. Goliath spread his wings to their full span, the sunlight reflecting in his silvery plumage. “I-I will bring the wine myself. S-such a precious beverage should be transported with great care.”

“Then go and bring it fast.” The annoyed frown on Goliath’s face slowly turned to a pleased smile as the guard took off and flew away. With a gentle tap on Drakkar’s back, the king gestured towards the seats. “I must warn you, though, þegn, that this wine is strong. A great reserve from my personal racks. Put it too close to a flame and it will light up!”

Drakkar smirked at the gryphon king as he let himself fall on the seat. “I would understand it if you were to warn me about how delicate a wine can be, but for us Fimbulvetrians, fond of mead and beer, to warn us about the kick of a drink?”

“I wouldn’t warn about it if it were a regular wine. One for rare occasions, but I am willing to share it with you today. We shall enjoy the strong beverage as the fight ends. You will not be disappointed, þegn.” Goliath folded his wings before sitting on his throne, letting out a soothed sigh. A roguish smile twisted his beak for a brief moment as he turned to face the unicorn. “Perhaps I could also call a couple gryphon concubines to accompany your drink and show?”

Drakkar’s ears perked up, his eyes wide open as he stuttered. “I-I’m sorry, what?”

With a loud burst of laughter, Goliath shook his talon. “Oh, come on, þegn, you’re an honored guest, and I’m sure you haven’t felt the firm yet alluring touch of a female gryphon.”

A disgruntled huff made its way out of Drakkar’s muzzle, shaking his head while frowning. “My wife does a fine job at that; I don’t need any other female.”

“Oh, but sometimes a wife isn’t on the mood or she simply won’t accept fulfilling certain fantasies.” Goliath put his talons together, tapping the claws with each other, still showing the lavish smile. “Not to mention the possibilities that the different anatomy may offer.”

“A pleased wife is a pleasing wife, your Highness.” A playful smirk formed on his face as he rested his head on the back of his seat. “It is obvious for those who pay attention to detail whenever a female has sex with her mate for different reasons. You can see the difference between the contempt of the one who just lies in the bed and allows herself to be done to fulfill her spousal duties. There are the ones that are only eager to mate because they want to have kids. You can see they want to, but they don’t put much enthusiasm in it; just get the job done.” Drakkar’s smile widened as he turned to face the king. “And then there’s that female. The one that knows she’ll lose her voice of all the moaning and screaming. The one that knows her body will fall down in the mattress in complete exhaustion. That female will tease her mate every now and then, and will drag him to the bedroom at the slightest mention of the willingness to have sex, if she doesn’t take the initiative herself.” Drakkar remained nigh motionless, showing a cheeky smile that screamed ‘guess which one of those three is my wife’ as the few female gryphon guards surrounding them muffled their approving giggles.

Goliath burst into laughter once more. “And I thought you weren’t one to brag yourself.”

“You boast on what you are good at. Being a good listener gets you further than most would admit.” With a shake of his hoof, Drakkar cleared his throat. “But returning to our previous conversation, since the offended party is Megin-gjarð, shouldn’t you be offering him the concubines?”

“Maybe he’ll get even more than that. You see, I expect greatness from my subjects, and those who prove their worth are encouraged to become breeders.” As the two following contestants flew towards the center of the arena. Goliath waved at them while still focusing on Drakkar. “For what I saw yesterday, I am sure there are a lot of females who want to bear the seed of your hófkarl.”

Drakkar blinked for a while, shaking his head in disbelief. “Is that even possible? Can ponies and gryphons actually breed?”

“I will not lie; I have never seen even one hippogriff.” Goliath stared at Drakkar, holding back a chuckle at her confuse gaze. “Hippogriffs are basically gryphons which have the lower half of a pony instead of our normal leonine one. But for what I know, they are mostly born from male gryphons and mares. I suppose it can work the other way round, but it’s never mentioned in any of the tomes of old.“ Through the corner of his eye, the gryphon king scanned the female soldiers, chatting with each other in a low voice, making measuring gestures with their hands. “It looks like the gryphon females are more than willing to give it a try, though.”

-o-

Megin-gjarð was sitting on the bed of his room at the Colosseum barracks. The candles on his table had almost worn off, and the weak flames struggled to light up the place. The stallion drowned a sob as he wiped his water eyes with a small towel, pressing it against his face and massaged his forehead. With drooped ears, Megin-gjarð stared idly at the reflection the moonlight let on the room’s floor. There was a knock at the door, causing him to raise his eyes to it and speak with a soft yet blunt “I don’t wish to receive anyone right now.”

A female voice replied from the other side. “It is I, Gorgon. I brought you wine and fruit.”

His ears perked up in a quick twitch, slowly turning around towards the table and resting his weight on the sturdy oak chair next to the table. A tired sigh escaped his muzzle before saying “Come in.”

The door opened to allow Gorgon to come in. The female gryphon carried one end of a silver platter filled with several pieces of fruit and two plain, silver cups with her right talon, resting the other end against her lion hips. Her free foreleg was holding a vase that she kept on top of her head. Despite standing only on her hind legs, she used her wings to flap around to keep her balance. As soon as she left the platter and the vase on the table, Gorgon fell on her four, letting out a pleased hum while stretching. “Ah, much better.” The gryphon whipped the floor with her tail before turning to the stallion. “I didn’t see you with the others. I expected you would be cheering with the rest.”

“I needed to be alone.”

Gorgon raised an eyebrow at the sorrowful pitch in Megin-gjarð’s voice. She pushed the door closed with her lion legs before flying her way on top of the table. Her hind legs were slightly spread, but her talons rested between them, covering herself. “What has happened?” Her attempts to look him in the eyes were thwarted by his constant turning away, yet the still reddened eyes were obvious from her distance. “You’ve been crying.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Gorgon.” The stallion got up from his seat, but the gryphon grabbed him from the tail.

“I thought I made clear last night that I don’t want secrets with my breeding partners.” Despite the topic she was talking about, her tone was stern and inquisitive.

The stallion shook his head. “If I am to be a breeding partner I should be able to control my emotions.”

“You killed a gryphon without breaking a sweat; you aren’t weak, so calm down about that.” Gorgon moved towards him, giving his tail a gentle pull for him to return to his seat. With a begrudged grunt, Megin-gjarð nodded and let himself fall on the sturdy chair. As he reached one of the apples on the platter, Gorgon began pouring themselves some wine. “I don’t know how things are where you live, warrior. Here, though, crying doesn’t necessarily show weakness. I have seen even King Goliath cry, if only once.” Gorgon offered Megin-gjarð the filled cup, who stared at her with a raised eyebrow. “The queen’s death was a hard blow for the whole kingdom, but it was much harder for Goliath. He refused to marry again out of respect to her.” When she finished serving both ups, she sat on the edge of the table with her lion legs crossed one on top of the other. “So you see, there are reasons we expect everyone to cry for. In fact, you would most likely be ill regarded if you didn’t.”

Megin-gjarð nodded, his eyes focused on the wine inside his cup. “I can understand Goliath. My father never married again after my mother died.”

Gorgon’s tail fell flat on the table. “I’m sorry to hear that. When did it happen?”

“Right after giving birth to me.” Megin-gjarð put the cup aside, pressing his hooves against the sides of his forehead. “I… only know her name and her voice. I don’t even know what she looks like save for some descriptions, but I never got to see her.”

“How can you know her voice?” Gorgon stared at him with a raised eyebrow, putting her own cup aside as well and taking a more comfortable position.

“I just remember her singing a lot. I have blurred memories, because… I don’t know, I can’t explain it because I don’t understand it myself. I guess she sang a lot while she was pregnant, and I got her voice stuck in my head.” Megin-gjarð turned to Gorgon, who was staring at him with a condescending look on her face. His voice felt as if he were drowning a sob. “I don’t know how, but if I were to hear her singing, even if I have no idea what she looks like, I will point at her and say ‘that is my mother!’”

Gorgon looked away with a saddened frown. “So that’s why you reacted that way with Giulio.”

A snarl ravaged its way out of Megin-gjarð’s muzzle. “That worthless braggart. I knew what he was trying. Do you want to make me angry enough to make mistakes? Mock my lack of speed or how I can easily break.” His hooves trembled at the contained anger. “But dare to question the honor of my mother by insinuating she mated with a Jǫtunn and I will chase you tirelessly and trample over you until you stop breathing!” Gorgon moved her talon on top of his hoof, caressing it as she looked for his eyes on his lowered head. “I’ve heard them all. The ones that said my mother was seduced by one, the ones that said she was taken by force… all of them! And all because of me!” Letting out an exasperated growl, Megin-gjarð buried his head between his hooves. “Because when I was ten, I was already as tall as an adult, and when I joined the training when I was thirteen, I was already taller than anyone in the whole kingdom. I even outgrew some of the bears!”

Gorgon jumped down the table, resting her talons on his head and pulling it against her puffed, feathery breast. The stallion turned to embrace her waist the same way she was wrapping her fore legs around his head and caressing his mane. “Let it all out, warrior. There is no shame in crying for that, as there is no good in holding such burden to yourself for so long. Don’t think of those rumors without foundation, but in the pride she must be feeling from seeing what you have become.” Megin-gjarð looked up at her with a curious gaze, his watery eyes barely visible among Gorgon’s chest feathers. She returned him a broad smile. “You, who can take down the mightiest of beasts without the need of armies. You, who punish those who wrong the honor of your family with all the strength of your hooves.” Gorgon caressed Megin-gjarð’s head and mane, moving her talon to his ear, grabbing it and giving it gentle rubs with one of the claws. The stallion let out a short chuckle before moving away from her, his ear tingling, to which the gryphon laughed loudly. “Looks like I found one of your soft spots!”

Megin-gjarð wiped away the few remaining tears between embarrassed chuckles. “I… I don’t know, really.” He turned to face Gorgon, who was staring back at him with a roguish grin. “W-what are you smiling for?”

“Oh, nothing.” Gorgon walking around him, swooping her wings to propel herself and, with a gentle hop, landing on his shoulders. With a swift move, she grabbed both his ears as she wrapped her lion legs around her neck. Though the stallion attempted to shake her off at first, the gentle caress of the leonine paws on his chest and the rubs of his lobes soothed him, letting his head fall back on Gorgon’s lap. The gryphon giggled at Megin-gjarð’s silly smile. “I have to be honest; I never thought I would be able to ride a male’s shoulders, but this is quite fun.” She lowered her head to nuzzle his snout, the lion paws caressing his chest, yet giving light scratches with their claws. Gorgon moved back towards his ear to give it a tender nibble when she looked down and gasped. “By Ouranos’ severed scrotum, is that yours? All of it?”

Megin-gjarð opened his eyes wide, grabbing the table and dragging the chair to hide his lower half under it. “I-I’m sorry, I just—”

“Oh, no, you won’t!” Gorgon jumped down from the stallion and walked her way towards the table. “I have to see that to see if I didn’t get tricked by the lighting.” Before moving under the table, she turned to face Megin-gjarð with a scolding look. “And don’t try to stop me! Breeding partners, remember?” The stallion nodded with intensity as Gorgon winked and dived her way down under. “I wasn’t fooled by the light, after all. My, Eros was very generous when he made you!”

Megin-gjarð covered his face with both hooves to hide his intense blush and a proud smile. “Well… I… am glad you like it?”

“I will definitely need to bring some supplies for when we mate, but this looks more than fine.” The gentle touch of her talons made the huge stallion shudder. “Now that we’re at it, let me take care of this for you.”

Megin-gjarð, chuckled, biting his hoof to muffle a moan. “I’m not one to complain, but I have yet to finish the tournament.”

“Don’t be a fool; I said you should show the steel behind your words. And you did that when you beat Giulio with such ease.” Showing a teasing smile, Gorgon looked up at him from under the table. “Consider this a taste of what awaits you if you win. An extra motivation, if you want.” She then turned her attention back to what had caught her interest. “And now, time to tame the beast.”

Honor for the Enemy

by Simon_oSullivan

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