Aileron

The Bounty came into Griffonstone early in the morning, when the sun had barely risen, like the triumphant return of a long-awaited hero. The Bounty was a large skyship, over a hundred meters long, with three masts. All were more deserving of the term splinters. Several of its railings were broken, and there was something that resembled a burn mark near its front. The lightweight wood that comprised its deck was also damaged, but not to the extent of the rest of the flying ship. Despite all this, both the ship’s crew and those gathered at the city’s edge were ecstatic.

The crew of The Bounty, at least those not managing the ship, stood at the bow of the ship, waving to the griffons gathered on the edge of the harbor, letting out shouts and cheers as they approached. The griffons on the harbor waved wings and talons at those approaching, massive grins plastered on their faces.

Peregrine stood at the wheel of The Bounty, a grim expression on his face. A dark-green feathered griffon, the darkness from the sails made them appear almost black. Next to him stood a female griffon, her expression much like his, but marginally more cheerful. A few members of the crew approached the pair of them, giving them a slight nudge or two, but the rest of them stayed away from the captain and first mate, Aquila, most of them realizing that neither of them actually wanted to be back in the city. For varying reasons.

By the time The Bounty had pulled itself up to the harbor, there was nothing short of a mob of griffons cheering them on. That was one more thing that Peregrine disliked about the city: word traveled too fast. But he could understand his crew’s excitement, even if he didn’t concur with it. “Oi!” he shouted before any of them threw themselves off the edge of the ship to get back to their homes. “Unload first.”

His crew gave him expressions ranging from embarrassment to grudging acknowledgement. The crew nodded and began to unload the massive ship, several of them carrying out the massive gangplank, which they set down in the gap as they began dragging heavy cargo across.

Peregrine sighed as he walked onto the gangplank, the cool air of Griffonstone filling his lungs and brushing his green feathers back. Unfortunately, he was only back because half of his ship was broken. He stepped onto the rocky ground of Griffonstone and pushed past the crowd of griffons who filled the area. They parted to let him past, and he made his way through, only to find himself standing in front a smaller griffon who had an incredibly large hat on his head. The hat itself was tilted at a steep angle, but due to his height, its highest point barely came up to Peregrine’s neck. His black feathers were untidy, making Peregrine think of pirates. Too soon to think about that, he thought, doing his best to refocus on the griffon in front of him.

Peregrine gave the griffon a long look, his dark eyes taking in the ludicrousy of what stood in front of him. “Rook, what’s up with the hat?”

The griffon grinned, removed the hat from his head, and handed it to Peregrine. “It’s a souvenir. Those Crystal Ponies know some fascinating things about hat making.” Peregrine flipped it over and tapped the inside. It was surprisingly tough. After he had finished examining it, Rook retrieved it and put it back onto his head. “I thought it looked cool, so I went and bought it. What do you think?” He posed for Peregrine, who tried to avoid gagging.

Peregrine opened his mouth to silence his friend. “Rook…”

The griffon grinned again. “Come on, you’ve got to tell me what happened.” He put his arm around Peregrine, then pointed to the ship’s mast. “It’s at least partially broken, so there’s some story behind that.”

Peregrine noticed a pair of griffons having trouble unloading a large chest, and took this as his cue to leave the area. “Rook, I’ve got to go help my crew, but I’ll fill you in on what happened later.” He flew off, leaving Rook to stand in the now receding crowd. Rook shrugged, clearly used to it, and headed off to find someone else to speak with.

Peregrine grabbed the chest as it began to slip from the talons of a crew member. It jangled as his caught it, making a few of the remaining griffons grin. “Watch it…” The griffon who had almost dropped it gave a sheepish laugh and readjusted her grip on the chest. The three of them made their way through Griffonstone to a large building with several warning signs on it. Several of his other crew members grinned at him as he entered, having already dropped off their various treasures.

Peregrine swung the door open and entered the room. Along with the other griffons, he sat down the chest along with their other bags and chests, which sat in a massive heap in one corner. The griffons who had carried it with him gave him a slight smile and dashed out of the warehouse.

Peregrine sighed once more and headed out of the warehouse, closing the door behind him as he did so. He returned to his ship, where The Bounty had yet to be fully docked. He waved a talon to the members of his crew who were attempting to dock the ship, signaling for a stop. They shot him an inquisitive pair of glances, but disembarked.

His first mate, Aquila, walked towards him, pale eyes narrowed. She greeted him at the gangplank to the ship. “You drop it off?” Peregrine nodded and she gave him an appreciative one in return. “Where you headed now?”

“Shipbuilders.”

Aquila gave a slight wave of a wing towards the damaged mast. “Of course. I’m going to speak with Gabriel. See if he needs me to keep my eyes open for anything.”

Peregrine cast his gaze to the sky, thinking. “I assume you’re going to get caught up on something?” Aquila gave a slight shrug. He sighed and gestured over his shoulder with a talon. “Go for it.”

Aquila gave him a grateful nod and headed off, while Peregrine began making off to the shipbuilders. Shouts could be heard coming from an area to the east of the docks, and multiple griffons could be seen carrying heavy logs around. The smell of wood filled the air, a scent that most captains had gotten used to over the years.

Shavings covered many portions of the area, littering the ground and making Peregrine tread around them. Many of the griffons stood in clumps, murmuring amongst themselves and pointing to the various ships that they worked on. The runes on many of these ships were clearly visible, glowing any color from red to green, based upon their form or function. Many of them were smudged, forcing griffons to stand a fair distance behind them.

Peregrine watched the griffons work, an expression of slight respect on his face. While he didn’t envy their work, he did appreciate that they did it. He headed straight towards a large building that was set a short distance from where the majority of the work was taking place. It was about forty feet tall, with a massive compound inside. He slipped inside, the noise quieting as he did so. He took a deep breath. Quiet once more.

A bored voice welcomed him. “Hello. This is the Shipbuilders. How may I help you?” A young griffon, Peregrine guessed she was in the range of nineteen or twenty, sat behind a large desk, flipping a golden bit over and over again. A large ledger sat on the desk, its pages open to the first blank page. A red quill sat next the book, most likely the griffon’s.

“My ship’s damaged. I need to schedule repairs.”

“And why can’t you do this yourself?” The griffon behind the desk didn’t look up, choosing instead to continue flipping her coin. Her messy feathers only enhanced the impression that she would like to be anywhere but here. “I assume a griffon of your…” she gave him a once over, “stature has someone on his staff who can carve runes, manage wood and the like?”

Peregrine bit back a sharp retort. “Nobody on my crew is a shipbuilder, runist or carpenter. That was never our job. We’re diplomats, collectors, and the like. So, can I have your attention for a few minutes?”

“Not pirates?” One of her eyebrows raised ever so slightly, despite her not even bothering to look at him again. “Or, as you say, privateers?”

This time, a small curse escaped from Peregrine. “Something similar, but far more legal... And more involved in hunting pirates. But that shouldn’t bother you. Would you please come look at my ship?” He gave her a frigid look.

The griffon sighed, set her coin back on her desk, and turned back to face him. “Alright, lead me to it.” She picked up a notebook from beside the folder and stood up. She turned her head to the back of the building and shouted, “Boss, checking out a job.”

A shout came back, which Peregrine could have sworn had the phrase ‘no cheese this time’ in it, but he couldn’t be certain. He led her to the docks, where The Bounty sat in all of its damaged splendor. The griffon whistled when she saw what had happened to the mast. “What happened to you?”

Peregrine cast his eyes downwards. If he had possessed teeth, he would have certainly ground them. “It’s a long story. Suffice to say, something big smashed our masts.”

“No kidding,” she muttered. “Mind if I take a closer look?” Peregrine nodded his assent, and she flew up. She tapped the spot where the largest mast was bent into a position that would have been considered a safety hazard. The wood itself had been splintered, barely being held in place by the ropes and the remaining, undamaged wood. The biggest crack came from the very middle, where a mixture of what looked like scorch marks, claw marks, and teeth marks could be seen.

Blue runes glowed faintly on the mast, making her do her best to avoid touching them. Runes drew their power from various objects, and then expelled or contained it, depending upon the use. The ones on the mast included the functions of preventing several varieties of damage, allowing the ship to compound the force of the wind, or even to prevent other runes from disrupting them. They were powerhouses, and she was certain that smudging any of them any further would result in her getting blown sky high. And she wasn’t certain she’d like that idea.

After giving the masts a thorough examination, she flew back down to where Peregrine was standing and tapping his talons. “Your mast is broken beyond repair,” she said, voice utterly lacking sympathy. “You’ve got serious problems. Shattered wood, smudged runes, burnt sections, all of it needs to be fixed as soon as possible.”

He rolled his eyes. “And why wouldn’t it be?” She said nothing, her cold eyes giving him the impression that he didn’t want to keep her waiting. “Alright. How long would it take for them to be replaced?”

The griffon ran a series of numbers through her head. “Depends. Two weeks at the earliest. And that’s a liberal estimate. But I’ll need the details on your ship. Wood, cloth, and the like. Have it delivered to the shipbuilders and I’ll see what I can do.” She nodded towards the glowing marks on the ships. “It also depends on which runes you’re using, the general compatibility of the wood and the writing, all of that. Get me a list of the specifics.”

Peregrine frowned. “How will I stay in contact with you?”

“Just ask for Cetan,” she said whilst scribbling something into her notebook and snapping it shut. “Anyway, I’ll expect the notes sometime in the next few days?” Peregrine nodded. “Alright. I look forward to working with you, Peregrine.” She tore a page out of her notebook and handed it to him. “Keep track of this. Otherwise you’ll end up with someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing.”

Peregrine gave the sheet a long look. “And you do?”

Cetan’s expression reminded him of Gabriel’s serious demeanor and busy attitude. Cetan nodded her head in the general direction of the shipbuilders. “Figure out for yourself why I’m not the muscle.” She sighed forlornly, her gaze drifting towards the great sky that Peregrine had just come in from . “I’ll be here once you get me those plans. I always am.”

Icarus usually didn’t bother greeting griffons when they walked into the bar. For the most part, they all knew him, so greeting them wasn’t worthwhile. They just ordered their drinks, he served them, and he watched their conversations or joined in if he liked it. It was rather fun. There was also the added bonus that he got to hear gossip, and spread it. Not that he did gossip. He just spread said information. There was a very important difference. And that was who was doing the storytelling.

So when a griffon came into his bar with news of pirates, Icarus gave him a drink on the house. “We got waylaid on the way back by some pirates,” the griffon was saying, “it was a fairly large pirate ship, my guess is two-thirds the size of The Bounty. They tried to take our cargo, but we drove them off. I managed to take down two pirates on my own…” He continued speaking for while, but at this point Icarus had already given up on getting anything remotely accurate out of him.

The inn itself was large establishment, with two dozen tables sitting in the various areas in it. Makeshift lamps, Icarus’ own make, hung from the ceiling at strategic intervals, providing just enough light for griffons to make their way around, but not enough for illegal interactions to be caught without effort. Alcohol and food could be smelled all over the inn, due to Icarus’ years running the building.

One of the younger griffons in the establishment, Caladrius, raised a talon. He was tall for a griffon, but his short tail often made him look even smaller. His feathers were bright blue, with stripes down them. “Did you manage to recognize any of them?” He passed his empty mug to Icarus as the visitor thought, and was slid a drink in response, which he downed in a matter of seconds. Never would it be said that a griffon couldn’t consume alcohol.

The other griffon took a moment to think about it. “Let’s see… not any that I knew.” A chuckle went up from the listeners in the bar. Any griffon who said that he didn’t know any pirates was a liar. It was part of the package that came from being a griffon, although if rumors were to believed, that fact might change. “I did notice that it was a member of the Oracle Union… There was…” He trailed off, unable to place a talon on what he was thinking.

There was a nervous murmur from the patrons at the bar. “Oracle, you say?” Caladrius asked, referring to the organization of pirates who had taken up residence some place near farthest reaches of the griffon lands, tearing apart any unprepared ship that came too close to their self-proclaimed territory. He sighed and slid his mug across the counter to Icarus. “Quick refill. I’m going to need it.”

Up until a decade ago, the cities that the griffon populous had inhabited were fractured and divided, controlled by various warlords, merchant houses or even zealots. When Grover had united the lot of them, the Oracle Union had originated shortly afterwards, declaring themselves to not take orders from a false king. As such, there was tension when news of them drifted in. Rumors of them varied, although most agreed that there were six of them who lead the charge.

Peregrine’s sailor nodded. “It was The Specter.” A slight smirk crossed his face, like he had been waiting to share this little tidbit.

There was a moment of quiet from all sitting in the inn, which spread to all those sitting there like a plague. The patrons cast nervous glances around, as if mentioning the dreaded ship’s name would be enough to summon it. Nobody spoke for several seconds, simply waiting to make sure that the nigh-invisible ship and its mad captain weren’t waiting outside the door or above the inn.

It was Caladrius who broke the silence. “You’re joking.” There was an element of fear in his comment, as if he didn’t believe himself. “You’re telling me that Peregrine spent time trying to hunt down one of the leaders of the Oracles?”

“It’s what happened. Believe it if you want. We hunted down The Specter, fought with her crew, and managed to steal a large amount of their treasure. Although we were unable to get that far into its hold. We never saw what sits under cabins.” He couldn’t help but grin before he said anything else. “But we left her damaged. Raven isn’t going to be terrorizing any more ships for a while.”

“Sure,” Caladrius said, a slight sneer entering his voice. “And the four get along.” He took a long sip, his dark eyes watching the sailor coldly. “Who did you really run into? Maybe the Acheron?”

Icarus snickered, drawing an irate look from Caladrius. “If you think that he didn’t actually go after The Specter, why in tartarus did you think that Peregrine would go after the Acheron?”

“Because Grimlock, unlike that lunatic that The Specter’s crew calls a captain, is known for following the rules of runes, sailing and shipbuilding.” Caladrius gave the griffon a wolfish grin. “Alright, suppose I accept your story about running into The Specter. Is that what broke the ship?”

“No. It was serpent, nearly a hundred feet long. It came out of nowhere-” The other griffons grinned at one, not unlike children sharing a joke. A griffon sailor could never resist spinning a story. They leaned back and prepared to listen. “It had eyes of fire, and it broke the mast down the middle. It was a terrifying beast, with the talons of an eagle.” He continued to spin his yarn for some time. After he had finished, Icarus passed him another drink.

“That’s great and all, but let’s be honest. What really broke the mast?” Icarus asked, an expression of mild curiosity gracing his features. “Or are you suggesting that a dragon took an interest in you?”

“I swear, that’s what happened. One really did come to us.”

Icarus gave a knowing nod. “Sure it did.”

The griffon glanced at the others seated at the bar, looking for anyone who would agree with him. After nobody did so, he sighed and reached into the small bag at his side, tossing a few coins onto the counter. “Can I get a room?”

A few of his less mature friends snickered slightly, but Icarus nodded and made his way into his backroom, which sat immediately behind the bar. He returned less than a minute later, tossing a small key to the griffon. The griffon nodded gratefully and made his way up his stairs to his room.

Icarus grinned as the griffon left, returning his attention to his patrons. He passed out bills to those sitting around the bar. “Pay those before you leave or return to your rooms.” Caladrius glanced at his and gave an audible groan. He tossed a few coins from the bag at his side onto the table and then walked upstairs to his room. Icarus gave Caladrius a wink as he left, then turned to the griffons sitting at the tables. “I haven’t forgotten about you!”

One band of griffons, who had all gathered around a table in one corner, let out nervous yelps, like children who had just had been caught cutting class. A few minutes later, a rather heavy bag of coins landed on Icarus bar as the griffons snuck their way up to their rooms.

Icarus collected his payment as the griffons dispersed. He glanced at the setting sun, cleaning up the messes made by his patrons. It was a fair bit of work, but he found it enjoyable. Certainly better than spending your life chasing after long lost treasure. While he was in the middle of walking a pile of wooden bowls to his sink, the door swung open to let a griffon in. Icarus waved a friendly talon at her. “Cetan, how’d it go today?”

Cetan grinned as she dumped a bag onto the counter, from which a few coins spilled out. “I earned a little. I’m a step closer to leaving.” She pushed a few of the fallen coins towards him. “Can I have a drink?”

Icarus passed her a cup, but snorted, pushing the coins back towards her. “Blood relatives don’t pay.” He paused to think about it. “Unless you eat a lot. In which case I’ll charge you.”

She gave a grunt of thanks and took a long drink, gathering her coins back up into her bag with her free talon. “Did Kestrel come back yet?”

“She’s still out. Why do you ask?”

Cetan gave a long sigh. “She’s probably still hanging out by the docks. I’m going to strangle her when she gets back.”

Icarus chuckled, but was smart enough not to let her hear. “You get dinner on the way here, or…” She waved a talon disparagingly.

“I got enough to eat at the Shipbuilders. Just make sure Kestrel gets a bite when she gets back.” Icarus nodded. “Let me know when she stops by. I need to talk with her.”

Icarus glanced at the few remaining griffons in the tavern. “Just make sure you don’t strangle your sister till after everyone leaves. I don’t want my niece killing anyone in front of an audience. Terrible for business.” Cetan nodded her assent and headed up the stairs. Icarus sighed and tapped a talon against the counter. It was going to be a long wait for Kestrel, he knew that much.

Kestrel was, in fact, at the docks. She was four years younger than Cetan, but almost as large. Her feathers were similar to her sister’s: white and in a mess. Her striped back half was like that as well, several portions or it sticking up like it had been frozen. Several ships were currently in the docks, being unloaded by their crews. Kestrel stood to one side, watching them with interest.

One ship in particular interested her: The Bounty. Despite having arrived in the mid-morning, it was still being unloaded long after the sun had set. The sheer size of it astounded her. The masts, the crew, the cargo, all of it was on a grand scale.

Several of the crew members she already knew, having spent each day it had come in watching it. One such griffon was Aquila, who was currently managing the unloading of the ship. Her red feathers were matted against her skin from a mixture of sweat and water, while her white fur was stuck out in spikes. As she passed, a large sack swung over one shoulder, she gave Kestrel an odd look. “Run off. We don’t want you to get hurt.”

Kestrel shrugged. “I’ll be fine. I was fine the time you came back with the baby dragon in a cage.” Aquila’s eyes widened and she cast a furtive glance around the area.

One of the crew members gave Aquila a pat on the back with one of his wings as he passed. “Don’t bother with Kestrel. She won’t cause any trouble.” Aquila shot him a dark glance and he laughed. “Kestrel, do you promise to stay out of Aquila’s way?” She nodded eagerly. The griffon grinned. “See?”

Aquila opened her mouth to argue, but she closed it and carried her sack off in a huff. The sailor winked at Kestrel and headed back onto the ship to unload more cargo. Kestrel was about to try and stop him when a voice stopped her. “Quite a ship,” the voice commented.

Kestrel turned to see a tall, lanky griffon standing behind her. His feathers were black, similar to those of Rook, and his long tail flicked sporadically, almost as if it had a mind of its own. She nodded. “Oh, yes.” Her voice squeaked slightly. She couldn’t help it. “And you are?” Her voice stuttered as she spoke.

He grinned. “Calm down. I’m just here to watch the ships.”

“Oh.” The pair of them stood in a silence for a few minutes as they watched The Bounty be unloaded. Aquila gave the occasional yell at a clumsy crew member, the odd griffon would drop something, but for the most part it was uneventful.

The black griffon waved a talon at Aquila. “Who’s she?”

Kestrel glanced at him, a bemused grin on her face. “You don’t know who Aquila is? She’s one of the most powerful griffons around, aside from the chiefs and a few others.”

The griffon frowned. “Is she the captain?”

Kestrel shook her head. “No. She’s a fighting master, though. And first mate. She’s got permission to take justice into her own hands, where pirates are concerned.”

The black griffon frowned, but nodded, watching the ship quietly. After a few minutes, the he spoke. “Apologies, I haven’t even introduced myself.” He bowed slightly, and then straightened his back. “I’m Simurgh.”

Kestrel frowned ever so slightly at the name. It tugged at the edge of her memory, but it was out of reach. “I think I’ve heard of you…”

“I’ve been mentioned here or there,” Simurgh said calmly. “I just came to visit a few old friends.”

“Oh.” Kestrel returned to the watching the ships. After a moment, she returned her attention to Simurgh. “You need a place to stay, by any chance? My uncle runs a tavern here.”

Simurgh gave her a look of mild surprise. “Really? Hm, that might fit the bill.” Kestrel began to to make her way off, to show him the way out, but he stopped her. “Not now- I’ve got some things to take care of first, but I’ll come take a look tomorrow. Will you still be here?”

Kestrel shrugged. “Unless a ship hires me, probably.” She returned her gaze to The Bounty, her expression dreamy.

Simurgh nodded, a slight grin on his face. “Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow. Then you can introduce me to your uncle.”

Kestrel turned to look at him, perhaps to ask him how he’d find her, but he was gone. She spotted his tail disappearing behind a wall, but she didn’t pursue him. After a few more minutes of watching The Bounty being unloaded, she made her way through the darkness, back to the inn, fully prepared for another tirade from her sister.

She swung open the door to the inn as quietly as she could, trying to avoid alerting anyone to her presence. Her uncle wasn’t there, much to her relief, and she crept her way through the inn towards the stairs, wincing when she stepped on a loose floorboard.

She stood there for a moment, waiting to see if anyone would come, and when nobody did, she let out a sigh and continued up the stairs, this time doing her best to fly slightly above the stairs themselves.

When she reached the second floor, she alighted on the planks, walking gingerly to avoid waking any of the inhabitants. As it turned out, griffons tended to be ticked off when someone walked in long after the sun had set and woke them all up.

On nights like this, she almost felt like a thief inside her uncle’s inn. But there was always a price to pay for staying away to see the ships- one of them being Cetan’s irritation. But it was a fair price to pay, in her opinion. Captains like Peregrine were amazing to watch, both for their skill at sailing and their sheer greatness. At least, that’s what Kestrel believed. Anyone who said that the captains were anything other than brilliant were loonies.

Kestrel grinned slightly to herself as she swung the door to her room open. It was a relatively small thing, at least in comparison to some of the other rooms, but it was cozy. On one wall hung a bookshelf, along with a variety of books which varied from the rules imposed by the city officials to pirates, dead or alive. One of the perks of her room, a window, was included with the package. Before Cetan had realized that you could sneak a griffon through it, she had used it to see the ships. Nowadays, she just went off in the morning and came back in the evening.

A small hammock hung in the room, the result of many weeks of pleading and a fair amount of hard work on her end. She flopped into it, staring at the ceiling in silence, the night’s events running through her read. As exciting as The Bounty’s return might be, the existence of that black griffon confused her more. Unfortunately, sleep was overcoming her, and she didn’t have the brainpower or time to pursue that train of thought any further, and she fell asleep after less than ten minutes.