Grimlock walked through the streets of Roc Point, his expression mirthless. Today was not supposed to be the day a visit like this was scheduled, but given the recent news regarding immortals running amok, he had been forced to reexamine his time table.

Accompanying the irate hippogriff were a pair of griffons. One was the grimacing Ajax, whose golden feathers were mostly obscured by a grey cloak, and an irritated female who on came up to Grimlock’s shoulder. She carried a pair of daggers under her wings, and it was likely that several more were hidden in the fold of her cloak. Her black talons tapped the pavement as she walked, and, to Grimlock’s irritation, a bag of clinking coins joined that sound. Aside from the sound of coins, there was also the sound of clopping hooves and the clicking of metal on the ground, neither of which Grimlock was happy about giving off.

The streets of Roc Point were crowded that day, given that it was a market day. Griffons packed the wide streets, arguing about prices, the value of a certain piece of information, and so forth, leaving the three pirates practically undetected. Despite that, Grimlock couldn’t help but worry that they would be given away by Ajax’s grumbling.

“I can't believe that I’m stuck babysitting,” Grimlock’s first mate muttered for perhaps the seventeenth time, drawing irate glances from both Grimlock and the smaller griffon. “You could have picked anyone to take along on this mission, and who do you pick?”

“I pick my idiotic first mate,” Grimlock said, a slight smile crossing his normally stony face. “I know, terrible decision on my part.” He nodded his head in the direction of the Acheron, which sat some ways away, about a mile from the city- the crew had decided to avoid trying to pull into the harbor for fear of alerting a nosy official, especially given their somewhat decent track record when it came to lethal encounters. “I could have taken anyone from that ship, and I picked you? Definitely regretting it.”

Ajax gave his captain a painful grimace. “That’s not what I meant and-”

“Shuddup,” the smaller griffon snapped, blowing some blue feathers out of her face. “We don’t have time for you to be asine.” She was promptly smacked by Grimlock on the back of her head. “What was that for?”

“Focus,” Grimlock said. “We’re here for a reason. If this is what it’s like, next time I’ll just dump you two on an island while I do important work.” He waved slightly to a griffon who had just done the same to him. Grimlock gestured to the griffon once he was no longer looking at them. “There’s your answer, Ajax. Nobody pays attention to a father and his two kids.”

Ajax looked offended, almost running straight into a pair of giggling children, who were making their way through the streets, a small bag of coins held in the talon of one. They gasped when Ajax stumbled and knocked the coins from their hands, although whether or not it was intentional was anyone’s guess.

Ajax let out a muffled groan, but he bent to help the children retrieve their coins. “My apologies,” he muttered, scooping them up in a talon. He handed them back to them, helping them back to their feet. The children thanked and ran off, giggling once again, waving to Ajax as they vanished around a corner. Several of the nearby shopkeepers, distracted for a moment from peddling their wares, gave approving nods to Ajax, who couldn’t help but wince as eyes turned to him.

Eventually, the gazes left Ajax, who glared at his two colleagues, the smaller of whom was grinning slightly. “They’re kids,” he muttered under his breath.

“To be fair, so are you,” the smaller griffon said, pushing a low-hanging set of feathers out of her face. “You’re what, twenty?”

“Shut up, Mag,” Grimlock muttered, resuming his walking as he did so.”And he’s twenty-two.” The three of them continued making their way through the streets, taking more care this time to avoid bumping into anyone.

The city of Roc Point, which had still not recovered from the fire that burned down its library, and a decent section of the city, was still thriving. Merchants crammed the streets, peddling wares that ranged from exotic weaponry to ‘the crown of the Stormlord.’ Most of them were makeshift, composed of the same green wood that grew at the base of the city, A few of them creaked or waved in the slighty breeze, but most of them were stable.

The smell of sea salt wafted through the air, displaying one of the key oddities about Roc Point. Unlike most cities in the griffon empire, which tended to favor a more cliffside or at least rocky locale, it was located on an island in the middle of the sea, making it somewhat difficult to exactly pinpoint from high in the sky.

Smackdab in the center of the city sat the burned stump of Roc Point’s library, once a massive tree, now it was reduced to a far less impressive sight. However, it was the location of Grimlock’s objective that day. It had taken far too much coaxing to get Finch to acquire the building plans for the lower levels, but after several long meetings, a pretty nasty concussion, and the phrase ‘I practically raised Gale’, Finch had coughed them up.

As they continued to walk for a little while longer, Ajax piped up again. “Um, how in Tartarus do I look like your son?”

“You don’t,” Grimlock conceded, giving a slight nod to the grinning Mag before continuing, “but if Mag looks related to me, and you’re just wearing a cloak, it’s fairly easy for them to assume that she got my end of the gene pool, instead of you.”

“Now this is asinine,” Ajax muttered under his breath. “Can we just focus on getting what we came for?”

Mag fell into step next to Ajax, nudging him in the side with a wing. “C’mon, what’s a little banter between friends?”

“You’re not my friend.”

“True, but Grimlock trusts me, so you should do the same. After all, why would he keep me on his crew if he didn’t trust me?”

“I thought it was because he's your only living relative.” Grimlock whipped around, shooting daggers at Ajax, who blanched. “Never mind,” he muttered under his breath. “So, captain, why do I have to stay with your daughter?”

“I trust her to keep an eye open. I trust you to keep the pair of you alive.”

Mag grimaced. “I can keep myself alive.”

It was Ajax’s turn to grin. “You’re ninety percent bone. There’s no way you’re going to survive if the authorities show up.” He glanced at his captain, a puzzled look spreading across his face. “Say, couldn’t I just keep watch?”

“I don’t trust Mag if she’s at the ship without either of us.”

“So I am being your babysitter.”

Mag snorted under her breath, and Grimlock shot the both of them dark glares. “I am this close,” he growled, raising a gauntleted talon, which glowed faintly from the rune emblazoned on it, “to dumping you two on an island somewhere.”

Mag leaned close to Ajax and whispered something into his ear, drawing a raised eyebrow from the first mate. Grimlock groaned inwardly, but he kept on walking, his hooves clopping against the ground. The street they were on turned suddenly, and Grimlock pivoted on his hooves, turning left into the back alley behind the market. Mag and Ajax took a moment to realize that he had turned, but they dashed to keep up with him.

They walked through the alley, with small houses to their left and the walls of the recently started construction of the ‘new’ Roc Point Library, even if it was being built in the exact same spot, with most of the same infrastructure and books. They stopped to admire a set of wanted posters, which hung on one wall. At the forefront of the posters, their portraits done far larger than on the others, were Gale and Raven, the latter of whose sneer was positively devilish when combined with her missing feathers.

Mag frowned as she looked at the posters, her gaze drifting towards the poster of her father. “You’re at the bottom. Seriously, what are we doing? We’re not even worth a twenty-five thousand bit bounty- we’re stuck at twenty-two thousand.”

Ajax gave her a condescending look. “Bounties are based on the crimes one has committed. Acheron and the crew are only responsible for thirteen deaths,” he nodded to the posters, each of which also had a list of crimes that the griffon was wanted for. Below Grimlock’s morose portrait sat a list of his crimes, which were mostly comprised of theft of valuables and artifacts. “Murder is the crime with the most severe punishment, the other captains have caused more deaths, ergo we’re lowest on the list.” He waved a talon toward Drake’s portrait. The rainbow-colored griffon was grinning at them from his picture, a charred staff held in one talon. Below his picture were listed his bounty, numbering four hundred and ninety thousand, followed by three score deaths that he was responsible for. “Although Drake’s edging his way to the top. Turns out arson is also pretty handy for getting your bounty up.”

“It’s not a competition,” Grimlock said quietly, his pale blue eyes surveying the sneers and grins of his colleagues. Gale’s always concealed face gave way to a cruel sneer, while Passerine and Gareth seemed to be looking directly out of the poster. Grimlock’s picture, by comparison, looked haughty and aloof, looking away from the reader. “Although they did get some damn good artists for Raven and Passerine.”

Grimlock turned away from the powers, continuing down the street towards the entrance of the under-construction library. Mag and Ajax continued to admire the wanted posters for some time, only dashing after Grimlock when he turned around another corner.

Eventually, the walls gave way to massive gate, which glowed faintly from runes. Behind them sat the charred remains of Roc Point’s ever-famous library, with only the second, first and lower floors remaining. It was a sight to behold, especially with ropes, stones and scaffolding adorning the shreds of the tree, tended to by the workers. Today there were barely more than a dozen workers at the site, due to market day, but according to his sources, up to thirty could be working on a specific day. Grimlock waved for Ajax and Mag to go ahead, both of whom cast him nervous glances.

“We, uh, just go in?” Mag asked nervously, her eyes not leaving the glowing blue runes on the gate. “There’s no lightning runes to kill us or anything?”

“It’s a public building. People work here on a daily basis. And Finch doesn’t hate us enough to lie about that.”

Mag grunted. “Fair point.” She stepped forward, swinging the gate open with a creak. The runes glowed faintly as she did so, but nothing adverse happened. She went first, once again blowing her dark blue feathers out of her eyes. Grimlock followed, with Ajax bringing up the rear, who kept shooting glances behind them as they did so.

They made their way to the wooden doors of the building, which still held telltale signs of the time that Drake had decided that fire was excellent for redecorating. The tops of the doors were black, growing more brown as one went down. Above the door frame, which was also black, were the singed remains of the previous floor, which were cut short. The fragments of the new floor were connected to the burned second floor, and a few workers waved to them as they swung the burned doors open.

Inside, they were greeted by the shelves that held centuries of griffon lore and history. While Drake had succeeded in burning down at least fifty percent of the library’s documents, the swift thinking of the authorities in Roc Point had managed to save a fair portion of them. There was also the added benefit of a large portion of the library sitting underground, meaning that Drake's fire had not burned down the bottom floors.

A librarian waved to them as they entered. “Morning, sir. You here with your family?” Beneath his robe, Ajax grimaced, but Grimlock nodded. “Anything I can do for you?”

“Maps,” Grimlock said. “Captain Sparrow’s voyages. Know where they sit?”

“Fourth floor down, in the catacombs. But you need a captain or cartographer license for to access them, sir. Do you have one?”

Mag rolled her eyes, her talon reaching for the daggers she had concealed. Ajax cast a cold look at her, but he made no move. Grimlock shook his head. “Fraid not, sir. Are there any available maps for us to look at? Such as Admiral Geralt’s?”

“Third floor down has the majority of them.” The librarian leaned forward in his deck, grinning slightly. “You’re lucky- they were barely saved when Drake burned this place down those years ago.”

“That madman Drake,” Grimlock chuckled. He thanked the librarian and headed towards the stairs, his posse following. Deeper into the Roc Point Library, the wood gave way to stone. Centuries ago, the library was a burial chamber for griffon warlords. They had since converted into a library, and some tombs had even been moved to store the various documents that had been saved from the fire.

Torches hung from the walls, their light enhanced by glowing runes, most of which were, amusingly enough, for fire prevention. Aside from protective runes, there were ones for muffling sound, hardening the stony ground to prevent chipping, and to provide extra light.

The three of them made their way down to the fourth floor, passing the floors for mythology, classical literature, and history, a smile growing on Mag’s face when what they were doing dawned on her. “Breaking and entering?”

Grimlock gave his daughter a slight smile as he nodded towards the entrance to the catacombs. A heavy steel gate sat there, this time glowing with runes that they knew were hostile. The lock was sophisticated, with the faintest of runes glowing inside the lock, as well as on the outside. Behind the gate, they could make shelves, crammed to the brim with rolled up documents. The occasional coffin could also be seen inside, scattered amongst the shelves.

Ajax raised an eyebrow. “What about the librarian upstairs?”

“We’re at least forty feet down. He won’t hear us.” Grimlock nodded to the runes on the walls. “Plus, they put up runes to muffle sound. I promise you, however, that that’ll be the first thing they change when word gets out.”

“And fire their current librarian,” Ajax muttered under his breath.

“Perhaps,” Grimlock murmured. “I hope not, however. Few could hope to match up against us, and I pray that he stays in his position, regardless of my actions.”

“And the lock?” Ajax asked, nodding towards it. “How do we get that open without causing a ruckus?”

Mag grinned at the younger of the two griffons. “He’s got a trick or two up his sleeve- ones that you don’t know about.”

Ajax raised an eyebrow, drawing a slight chuckle from Grimlock. He raised his gauntleted talon, on which the faint rune still glowed. “We’ve all got our tricks. Being a blacksmith for five years, followed by this job, tends to give you an idea or or two.” He set his talon against the lock, muttered something, and the rune on it glowed brightly. There was a muffled crack, and the lock swung open, its mechanism shattered.

“What the hell?” Ajax muttered, casting a nervous look up the stairs.

“Force rune,” Grimlock explained. “It’s fueled by my own energy. I feel weak for a little bit, but it lets me create enough force to shatter bone, or in this case, metal. Or both, should the need arise.”

Ajax whistled appreciatively. “Those hours locked in your cabin? Took you that long to perfect it?”

“Research, actually,” Grimlock chuckled, swinging the door open with a quiet creak. “This was fairly easy. Two hours making the gauntlet, another one making sure the rune was appropriately carved. The rest was me making sure the theorems were sound, and that I wouldn’t just kill myself creating that type of force. It’s still largely a prototype.”

“Oh.”

Grimlock stepped into the catacombs, nodding towards the stairs above. “Make sure I’m undisturbed while I search. Make sure that Mag doesn’t get killed. The usual arrangement.” Ajax nodded, dragging Mag along with him, and Grimlock began his search.

Inside, Grimlock was immediately awed by the sheer scope of it. Grimlock, despite being the most traveled of the Oracle commanders, had never been given the chance to visit the library. Either Gale, or Raven, or Drake, or personal matters, one of the four had always called him away from any pleasure time he might have had near Roc Point. In fact, he was only working in the city due to a plan that had taken far too long for Finch and Gale to approve.

Books filled the shelves, with maps stacked on top of those. Grimlock was able to spot the names of many of his heroes on those shelves, from Gamora to Heron, Ulysses to Macaw, all of them individuals who had striven to expand the size of griffon knowledge. “Drake’s a bloody idiot,” Grimlock muttered, running a talon along the names listed. “If I find him burning anything else like this, I’ll shove his own fire down his throat. I wonder how fire resistant he is on the inside.”

Grimlock continued walking, the beating of his hooves and of his heart the only sounds he could hear. Occasionally, he would pass a tombstone or coffin inscribed with a name he would recognize, and he would pause, his heart racing as he realized that he was inches away from the remains of some of the greatest griffons to have ever lived.

Eventually, however, Grimlock realized that he was simply delaying his objective. He slapped himself with a talon, mentally chastising himself for his foolishness. You’re hear for Sparrow’s damn maps, Grimlock. Focus.

He continued to search, finally arriving at his target. Squirreled away at the back of the catacombs, pressed under a pile of other maps, sat Captain Sparrow’s maps and captain’s log. Grimlock’s heart skipped a beat as he removed them from the shelf, carefully setting them on the floor. He picked up the journal, flipping through it to find the date he knew he was looking for.

23, 2, 32nd Year of Notus' Rule.

The tunnels are terrifying. They’re seemingly endless. All that we can hear inside them are the skittering of claws and the hissing of those hideous beasts. My crew and I, we’ve already lost three crew members to them. Jay was dragged away by one on the first night, and we could see it crawling along the ceiling as it devoured him. Lark, meanwhile, panicked. We heard her get eaten on the sixth night, several tunnels away from us. Lastly, Grouse made the mistake of trying to approach one.

Our supplies are running low. We need to reach an exit before we all starve, or become food for those monstrous creatures. They’re immortal, or so the stories claim. I see no reason to refute it. I saw their queen on the way in. Massive, she was. The sound it made, when her tongue ran along her mouth…

Regardless, I hope that my mad ramblings help someone, somewhere, even if I don’t make it out. Be a damn shame if I don’t. I had hoped to propose to Magpie when I got home. Guess that might be out of the picture, now.

The writing continued on the next page, but Grimlock didn’t need to keep reading. A sad grin spread across his face. “You make it home,” Grimlock murmured, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest as he spoke. “I’ve traced your family tree. You get the girl.”

He swallowed nervously, unrolling one of the maps. His heart skipped half a dozen beats when he saw what was within. A quick purview of the other eight revealed all of what he was looking for. He grinned, rolling them back up and stuffing them under his cloak as he did so. Then, he returned to the entrance to the catacombs, where Mag and Ajax waited.

Ajax, who sat at the stairs, looked up from the book he was reading when Grimlock approached. “Find it?”

Grimlock nodded, but he frowned as he took in what Ajax was doing. “You’re reading?”

Ajax shrugged. “What else was I supposed to do? Mag’s busy ‘shopping’, as she put it, and nobody has come down the stairs, so I figured I might as well see what they had to offer.” He showed the faded cover of the book to his captain. “It’s Gregory. Really good work.”

“Get up,” Grimlock muttered. “Mag, we’re leaving.” His daughter came out from behind a shelf, a thick book carried under a wing. He sighed and massaged his temple with his non-gauntleted talon. “I’ll go up first. You two follow.”

The pair exchanged looks, but they nodded and followed him up the stairs. Little had changed since they had entered. The library was still on duty, reading a book as he sat there. When Grimlock came up the stairs, he called a greeting. “Sir, did you find what you were looking for?”

Grimlock nodded and made his way to the exit, silently hoping that the library did not notice the scrolls under his cloak. Unfortunately, that was not to be. Mag, who was not really paying attention, came up the stairs as Grimlock made his way away from them, stepping on her father’s cloak as she did so.

Grimlock cloak slipped from his shoulders, revealing his equine back half. The library reeled backward, clearly trying to say something, but he merely spluttered for a second. Finally, he managed

Grimlock let out a snarl, leaping forward towards the librarian. Before he had finished sputtering, Grimlock’s hoof had collided with his chest, sending him flying into the wall behind him. He felt one of the librarian’s ribs crack, but the librarian collapsed before Grimlock was forced to take more extreme measures. Some books and scrolls fell to the floor, landing around the librarian’s prone form.

Ajax, who was just coming up the stairs, shot a dark look at the paling Mag, who was petrified. “Idiot,” Ajax muttered, retrieving Grimlock’s cloak from the floor and handing it to its owner. “They wouldn’t have even noticed if you hadn-”

Grimlock felt a warm sensation on his left talon, and he couldn’t help but say a thousand curses in his head. “Ajax,” Grimlock said, his voice deathly quiet, “shut up. We’ve got what we came for. He’s not dead. Let’s just leave.” He wrapped his cloak around himself once more, positioning it so that it covered the documents he had stolen once more. He gestured for the two of them to follow once more, which they did.

The three of them made their way out of Roc Point mostly undisturbed. The market was still going strong, making much of their actions unnoticed in the crowd. Eventually, they reached the edge of the city, where a single cutter sat, bobbing slightly in the water. Inside sat two members of Acheron’s crew, who were playing a game of wishbone they waited. They waved as Grimlock approached. “So, cap,” one of them said as he rolled his dice, drawing an irate look from his fellow crew member, “you find it?”

Grimlock was about to answer, when some kind of commotion could be seen coming from the direction of the library. A few griffons could be seen flying around the library, gesturing and pointing in various directions. The other crew member grimaced and began stuffing their game into a wooden box, gesturing for them to get in as they did so. “We don’t need an answer.”

Mag and Ajax entered first, Grimlock watching the city as they did so. Once every else was settled he stepped into the boat, his hooves rocked the it slightly, making an already jittery Ajax grasp the side with his talons. A griffon or two from the city were making panicked gestures in the direction of the cutter, which was then set into motion by Mag. It picked up a wind within seconds, and then began suddenly rising into the air, the runes on its side glowing as it did so. A grimacing Ajax held onto the side of the rapidly rising boat, his expression clearly seasick.

Grimlock watched Roc Point fade into a speck as they sailed for Acheron. Far below, griffons could be seen pushing their way through the market, likely guards in search of Grimlock. Once they were sufficient distance away, Grimlock reached into his cloak and removed Sparrow’s journal. He turned it to a random page and began reading.

Fifteen minutes later, when he was about four pages further into the journal, they arrived at Acheron. The crew awaited them at the bow of the ship, with a few of them also playing games of wishbone. The other four in the cutter got out first, securing the ship and gathering up their possessions as they unloaded.

Grimlock, meanwhile, was marking his page in Sparrow’s journal when his ring felt unnaturally hot, making the captain wince slightly. He muttered a curse under his breath, stepping out onto Acheron, wrapping his cloak around him as he did so.

“So,” one of his crew members asked, a grin crossing his face, “I take it everything went well?”

Grimlock nodded, pushing his way through the mass that was his crew. A few of them voiced their concern, but he gave them no response. As he turned towards the stairs below the ship, Mag caught up with him, an eyebrow rising. “Um, is it Finch?” She clutched the book she had stolen from the library close to her chest, a hint of nervousness in her eyes.

Grimlock nodded slightly, stepping below into the belly of the ship. Behind him, he could hear Ajax shouting orders to the crew, preparing for their next journey. Mag followed her father, almost tripping with the heavy book in her forelimbs.

As she followed, Grimlock couldn’t help but grimace. “Mag… I need you to stay out of this.”

Mag swallowed, but shook her head. “I want to see it happen.”

Grimlock glanced at his daughter, and he couldn’t help but clench his metallic talon. “Finch will kill me if I provide you with this kind of information. It’s sensitive to him, Gale, and the Six, and it falls to our discretion to determine what the other Oracles deserve to know.”

“Then use your discretion to determine that I deserve to know!” Mag snapped. “When you’re gone, I’d need to know what’s been going on if I’m to become captain!”

They had already come to his cabin, but Grimlock did not enter. He stood there, setting his metallic gauntlet on his door. “Mag,” he muttered under his breath, “I’ve got to get to this meeting. Finch is already in a bad mood, and I don’t have time to argue this with you. We’ll speak when I finish.”

Mag glared at him, but she nodded. “Fine,” she said, her tone infinitely grudgingly. “But I want you to pass on a message.”

“Anything,” Grimlock muttered.

“Tell Pandora to go screw herself.”

Grimlock sighed and opened his cabin door. “And that,” he muttered, “is why Finch doesn’t want you listening in on these meetings.”

Mag took off, heading back towards the deck of the ship. Grimlock stepped into his cabin, closing the door behind him. He glanced at the door once again, a slight sigh escaping his lips. He pressed his ring against it, making the runes on the ring and on the door’s rim glow brightly. He opened the door once more, and instead of the hallways of Acheron, he was greeted by a circular chamber, with runes glowing on all sides.

A table sat in the center of this chamber, with chairs set around it. A glowing door, each matching an identical one in each Oracle ship, sat behind the chairs. And inside those chairs sat his compatriots. Grimlock swallowed as he stepped into the chamber- he never liked the sinking sensation accompanied with gateway runes, and today was no exception.

Finch said, or so he claimed, that the technique was one that he had pilfered from a species of exotic shapeshifters that lived in the Reaches, but Grimlock had never truly believed Gale’s majordomo on that front. Grimlock, all in all, put little stock in Finch’s claims.

The image of Passerine was the first to greet him. The captain’s snakelike form was easy for Grimlock to make out in the finely lit room, given that he was probably nine or ten feet long. Passerine had always been a giant amongst griffons. Smooth gray feathers, pressed down flat against his skin, only increased the captain’s likeness to an enormous serpent, and his tail coiled round the chair in which he sat, threatening to crush it with the pressure applied by the thick chords. A bottle of wine sat next to him, minuscule when compared to his boulder-like talon. Several empty bottles rolled beneath his chair, although to the captain, it was likely nothing more than a warm up.

Much like his body, it was Passerine’s voice that was the first sound to greet him. “Ah,” came the deep, almost melodious voice, “it seems that Grimlock finally decided to grace us with his presence. Dost the noble captain deem us fit to be worked with?”

“Shut up,” came the reply, echoing across the chamber. Her talons folded together, her bright yellow feathers, the back ones tied together in a pseudo-ponytail, sat a much younger, much smaller griffon. From Grimlock’s view, she sat to his right, her wicked-looking scimitar hanging at her side. Most would have placed in between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one, which was an accurate assumption. She had a spotted yellow back half, reminiscent of the massive cats that Grimlock had once seen brought from Equestria. “He’s here. That’s all that matters.”

“As if,” Passerine said, his tongue running across his beak. “I’ve sat on my ass, with little to nothing to amuse me, for the past twenty minutes. I need an explanation for his tardiness, Pandora, even if you don’t.”

“He’s got a life,” Pandora snapped, glaring at the behemoth sitting across from her. “He’s got a daughter, as well as crew that appreciates him for who is, not just what he does. Unlike certain griffons, he takes advantage of the benefits given to him.”

Grimlock winced at Pandora’s words, but, thankfully, none of the other Oracles were focused on him. Drake, Gareth, and Finch were too busy watching Passerine and Pandora, with Finch clearly enjoying the confrontation. Grimlock, meanwhile, fiddled with his gauntleted talon, refusing to look up.

A cackle escaped Passerine’s massive beak. “Eager to defend ‘daddy’ today, aren’t we?” Unfortunately for Pandora, the arrangement of her feathers made it quite easy to see the red tint on her skin. Passerine leaned forward in his chair, his dark eyes glittering. “Want to keep going? Or shall we get to business?’

Pandora, had the meeting not been taking place in neutral ground, would have likely attacked Passerine then and there. As it were, she merely decided to provide her own verbal retort. “At least I know I had a family that loved me.”

Passerine snorted and picked up his bottle of wine, his enormous talons actually crushing it as he tried to pour it into his mouth. He swore, shaking shards of glass from his talons. “Grimlock, you never answered. Why did you leave me with this bitch?” He sighed and turned his attention to removing the shards of glass. "Nevermind. Finch, get on to business.

Finch glanced at Passerine, whose size made Finch look like nothing more than a speck from where he sat, but he simply sighed and fiddled with the stack of papers that sat in front of him. “Oracles, I’ve got good news, excellent news, and catastrophic news. We’ve got a new set of prophecies, we’ve got our chance to dethrone Grover-” A cheerful murmur went up from the room, all rivalries forgotten, but then Finch continued. “And Raven’s necklace is currently in the hands of someone in Griffonstone.”

“Well,” came the terse reply from the griffon to Grimlock’s left. His feathers were practically bleached in terms of color, and his fur was a similar shade, making him ghostlike. “We’re doomed.” His right talon reached absentmindedly for the swords hanging on his chair, both of them attached to a leather strap. “Should I just cut us down now?”

“No need, Gareth,” Finch answered, his voice mirthless. “She’s made her bed, and we have to fix the covers for her.” The white griffon raised an eyebrow, but he moved his forelimb away from his swords. Finch continued. “As far as we know, the necklace is currently in Griffonstone, in the possession of someone we have yet to identify. We’ll need it back.”

Drake spoke for the first time since Grimlock had arrived. His parrot-like feathers glittered in the light, only enhancing the macabre grin on his face. He clutched the tall, rune-engraved staff that never left his side, making the runes glow a sickly green. “And Raven?”

Finch glanced at the captain, sneering slightly. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Meanwhile, we do have an Oracle vacancy available, by order of Gale.”

That got the attention of the other five. Passerine swore, shaking minuscule droplets of blood from his talons as he shattered another bottle. Pandora’s and Grimlock’s faces paled, their eyes wide. Gareth actually placed his talons on his swords, a grimace on his face. Drake whistled slightly, blowing flame from his mouth.

Finch nodded. “Exactly. Raven’s out, at least until she gets her necklace back. Meanwhile, we’ve got to nominate a new Oracle.” He sighed and pulled a single sheet of paper from the stack. “You all know the drill.”

“I nominate Magpie,” Pandora said without hesitation. Grimlock cast her a glance, as did a skeptical Drake, but they made no comment. “Grimlock’s raised her well. She’s lived on a ship her whole life, she’s got excellent understanding of our work, and I think she’d be a magnificent addition to the Oracles.”

Finch raised an eyebrow, but made a note on the sheet of paper. “Nomination recorded. Anyone else?”

A snicker went up from Passerine. “What? You think any of us have got bloody anyone we want in on this?”

Finch glanced at the behemoth sitting next to him. “No, actually, but there’s protocol. It’s how almost all of us ended up here, and I’d be stupid to discard the tradition.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Any other nominations?”

Drake shrugged, leaning back and his chair and snorting smoke from his nose. Gareth frowned, casting a look at Grimlock as he did so, but he said nothing. Grimlock shook his head. Finch grimaced, looking at his paper before he continued. “Very well. The current nominees, then, are Magpie, daughter of Grimlock, and Vane, the pegasus.”

“Storming what!?” Passerine snarled, his tail wrapping itself around Finch’s chest before the smaller griffon had time to respond. “Who in Tartarus are you dragging into this?” Finch squeaked as the mammoth sized griffon applied pressure to his chest, Passerine’s tail tightening with every second.

“Drop him,” Gareth muttered to Passerine. “We don’t have time to kill him and work out this situation.”

Passerine grunted, but he dropped Finch, letting the griffon drop to the floor and start wheezing. “Dammit,” Finch gasped, doing his best to pull himself upright. “I’m in charge here, you idiots. I’ll have you drawn and quartered if you do that again.”

The other Oracles in the room, unseen by the still coughing Finch, exchanged a slight smile. The five of them had divided opinions on a majority of things, but they all agreed that Finch was on their list of ten least favorite griffons, and none of them put much stock into Finch’s commands.

Grimlock, when Finch had finally clambered into his chair- and scooted it a safe distance from Passerine- spoke. “Who is this ‘Vane’? An old acquaintance of yours?”

“Gale’s pick, actually,” Finch growled. He sighed and waved towards the door that led to Clipper, which swung open to reveal a pegasus. “Her recent batch of prophecies specifically mentioned her?”

Grimlock watched the pegasus as she entered, a pensive look on his face. His drummed the metal digits of his gauntlet on the table, taking in her disheveled form. The first thing he noticed was her unkempt gray mane, which hung down her neck like moss. Soon after, he noticed the eyepatch and emerald green coat. Grimlock allowed himself a slight smile, pondering why she was the one who Gale had nominated.

Passerine, meanwhile, was significantly less impressed by the pegasus. “Alright, Finch, who’s the brat? Some bitch you picked up in a jail cell somewhere?”

“That’s how Gale found me, yes.” The pegasus’ voice was a surprise to Grimlock, for he had expected one significantly more hoarse. Vane looked up, apparently taking in Passerine’s size for the first time. “That’s one big-ass griffon.”

Passerine’s dark eyes glittered, making Pandora and Drake actually scoot their chairs backwards. “Alright, Finch, game’s up. I’m not letting her be nominated- I could snap her like a twig if I wanted to.”

Vane glared at Passerine, a sneer creeping into her voice as she spoke. “I doubt it. You’re, what? Strong? Muscly? Anyone with a decent amount of speed could dodge a brute like you.” She looked him over contemptuously, gesturing towards his size with a wing. “If all it takes is physical prowess to get onto this group, I’d be perfectly qualified by that alone.

Passerine didn’t bother giving a verbal response. Instead, he swung round, far faster than anything of his size should have been able to, and slammed Vane to the floor, pinning her with a talon the size of a boulder. Her right forelimb twisted sickeningly, very clearly dislocated from the force of his attack. There was a hideous cracking sound, likely from Vane’s ribs, as the behemoth applied pressure. “Finch,” Passerine growled, his now-standing form towering seven or eight feet above Vane’s prone form. “She’ll die within an hour of nomination. You expect me to believe that she’s to be one our new nominations? Her and Magpie?”

Finch glared at Passerine. “Yes. Now let her up.”

Passerine gave a disgusted snort and removed his talon from the hyperventilating Vane. “Pathetic,” he spat, his eyes stormy. “Grimlock’s daughter and Gale’s newest catch. Is that what our new officers are?” He returned to his seat and gestured with a talon. “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

Vane sat there, moaning in pain as Passerine gave her a disgusted look. “Pandora?”

The captain hurried over to Vane and drew her saber, carving runes in a circle around Vane in a rapid set of motions. They glowed briefly for a moment, and within seconds Vane was standing, her forelimbs back in their natural positions. Vane gave Pandora a terrified, if somewhat grateful, nod as Pandora returned to her seat.

Finch glowered at the giant, but he returned to business. “Gale’s most recent vision claims that Vane is the gateway to whatever lies in the East.” Vane grimaced, but said nothing, an action unnoticed by Finch. “Not only that, but she’s taken naturally to her role on Clipper. Because of this, Gale thinks it wise to nominate her.” He looked expectantly at the other Oracles, who exchanged looks.

“Has your lover gone mad?” Gareth spat, a surprisingly vehement reaction from the Oracle. “You expect us to nominate some half-assed pegasus who turned up out of nowhere? Gale’s prophecies can be far-fetched, but this is stretching things.”

Finch grimaced. “Fair enough. Pandora? Your reasons for nominating Mag?”

“I’ve already said them,” growled Pandora, “but I’ll say them again. Grimlock, one of the finest Oracle captains ever, raised her. She’s lived on a ship her whole life. She’s had some of the finest griffons in the Oracles’ teaching her. As of now, I can’t think of a better qualified griffon to take the position.”

“You overestimate Mag,” Grimlock whispered, but it went unnoticed by the others.

Finch sighed. “Very well. As is the norm, we’ll vote in order of seniority. Newest members first. Pandora?”

“Mag,” came the reply instantly, the yellow-feathered griffon not hesitating in standing behind her pick.

“Vane,” Drake said, licking his lips slightly. “Mag’s a terrible idea. A fourteen year old leading the Oracles? Count me out.”

Finch swallowed. “Passerine?”

“Bah,” the mountain spat, drumming his talons on the table so hard that they left marks, “you’re asking me to choose between two individuals I already hate. Mag. She's a survivor. The pegasus will break within a week, I guarantee it to you, Finch.”

Gareth scratched his chin, pondering his options. Aside from Grimlock, he had been the longest serving Oracle, clocking in at nine years. “The pegasus. Mag’s eager, but she’s far safer with Grimlock.”

All eyes turned to Grimlock, even those of the pegasus, Vane. Grimlock sighed, casting a sad look to Pandora. “The pegasus.”

Finch let out a sigh, leaning back in his seat as he did so. “Wonderful! Vane, welcome aboard.” Grimlock noted, absentmindedly, that Vane did not exactly appear to be happy with that result. Finch continued, clearly oblivious. “All we need now is the necklace.”

“I’ll get it,” Gareth muttered. He stood up, retrieved his swords from his chair, and walked towards the door behind him.

Finch glared at the captain. “We’ve still got the prophecies to-”

“No,” Gareth snapped, making a rude gesture at Finch as he activated his rune-carved doorway. “We don’t. I’ve got Raven’s mess to sort out. Grimlock’s got other business to attend to. You’ve got your new protege to deal with. Pandora’s got to be at Maelstrom, and Passerine’s got to continue his research. Go aggravate someone else. I’ll be back with that necklace.”

"You don't understand," Finch snapped. "It's in an inn called Gemma's Rest, run by none other than Icarus-"

Gareth swung round, a savage grin spreading across his face. "Well then, who's wearing the necklace?"

"According to my spies," Finch murmured, "we think it's one of his nieces..."

Gareth's grin grew even more feral. "Wonderful. I'll look forward to this, then." With that, he stepped out of the glowing doorway into the interior of his own ship, swinging the door closed and leaving the other five to stand in neutral ground. Grimlock sighed and got up, and the rest of the captains followed suit.

The news of the what the god had been doing in Griffonstone took less than a day to spread out through the city. Icarus had barely opened the tavern for the day when Rook came in, ordered a meal, and began to spread the news of the Precursor, now acknowledged to be Notus. Those who hadn’t been at the celebration were shocked to hear the news, while those who had been there were both nervous and excited to hear the news of the maps that Grover would be distributing.

Kestrel, true to her word, had taken up working at the inn. She dashed amongst the griffons at the inn, removing dishes, delivering orders, collecting tips (of which there were many), and earning plenty of grins from the patrons, many of whom had been coming here since she could walk.

“So, how’d you find out?” Caladrius asked. He had risen early, and was drinking his usual round. Icarus didn’t bother to even ask if anyone wanted refills. He just filled whatever mugs were pushed near him and listened to the news. Meanwhile, Kestrel carried trays of food to the griffons who had ordered something. She listened intently to every word that was spoken, her eyes gleaming with delight.

“I ‘bumped’ into Grover this morning, and he just told me,” Rook’s voice was filled with enthusiasm, as he couldn’t hold back the news. “Turns out that any captain worth their salt is wanted to join in this race to compete. And, according to some version that you can hear, winner of the race will be looking at the greatest haul ever imagined. Wealth, fame, power, everything else the world has to offer, it essentially will belong to whoever makes it the end of the world. Grover came back with a sword, a wife, kingship, and a whole lot of legends. The rest of us, apparently, are looking at similar rewards, if not greater.”

“What could it be?”

Nobody said anything, fully expecting Rook to answer. He grinned, leaned back, and smiled. “Grover essentially said ‘whatever you want’.” An excited murmuring broke out from the griffons. Regardless of what else was happening, you could get a griffon excited with words like that.

Caladrius took a sip from his mug, then set it down forcefully, splashing ale onto the counter. Kestrel winced, rushing over with a rag to mop it up. “Why would Grover have kept this from us till this point? That there’s an angry god that wants him dead, and that there’s going to be some really nasty griffons, in addition to the Oracles, on the loose? What else is he hiding?”

Several griffons gave him a sour look. Icarus was the first one to speak. “Maybe this is the last of the secrets. I mean, it’s not exactly different from what we already knew. Gods have always been involved, one way or another.”

Caladrius snorted. “A god shows up. Grover comes out with some more hidden crap about what went on years ago. Yes. I think that there’s more that we don’t know.”

Rook gave him an acknowledging nod. “Point taken.” He returned to relaying what he had heard. “Regardless, I expect every ship will be leaving the harbor over the next few days, or weeks. No captain in their right mind is going to pass up this opportunity.” He ate his meal for a few minutes, leaving the rest of the griffons to mutter in the ensuing quiet.

Unheard by most of the inn, there was the sound of a door opening. Icarus, one of the few who had heard, gave everyone a nervous look, and then turned to Kestrel, who came over to him, a pile of platter precariously balanced on her wings. “Can you hold down the fort?” He asked quietly. She nodded. “Alright. I need to take care of something.”

Icarus headed to the kitchen, then swung into his room. Unsurprisingly, he found Simurgh standing the room, the door to the back still slightly ajar. The oily griffon was looking through one of Icarus’ books, an amused look on his face. Despite Icarus making little noise, Simurgh still looked up when Icarus entered. He grinned, snapping the book he was reading shut. “So, what’s up?” Icarus gave him a flat look. “Come on, it’s not like I would have cared if you had gone through my stuff on The Vagabond.”

Icarus sighed. “Times change. Right now, I just don’t want you getting yourself in over your head. You’ve gotten into trouble with schemes like this in the past. I don’t want you doing anything stupid again. Especially if my library is what causes you to do it.”

Simurgh grinned and gave the book to Icarus. “Relax. Every griffon in the city is talking about it. It’s not like I’m doing anything out of place. I’m just smart enough to realize that the answer is sitting under their noses.” He pulled another book of the shelf and opened it to a specific page. He held it out for Icarus to see. Icarus took it, a grimace spreading across his features. “Is this really the type of thing an ‘innkeeper’ should be owning?”

Icarus took in a plate containing a beautifully painted illustration of a flaming griffon, seated upon a throne. It matched the figure that had appeared at the previous night’s party to a T, even down to the coal-like eyes burning its head. “So, you did come here looking for clues.” Icarus shook his head disparagingly. “You’re operating on a different level of information on all this, aren’t you? You’ve, what, been getting information from the Oracles? How long have you know about what’s going on?”

“Far too long.” Simurgh smiled slyly. “And no, I’m not on the Oracle payroll. And, frankly, that’s a bit stupid of you to assume. But I will tell you this, nineteen years away give you lots of time to explore various avenues.” He waggled his digits at Icarus. “Especially magical avenues.”

“You are definitely going to end up dead at the edge of the world. Seriously, have the results of relic hunting taught you nothing?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. It’s a hobby now.” He rolled his shoulders, a grin crossing his face. “How far is Gabriel’s from here?”

Icarus closed the book and slapped Simurgh across the face with it. “You’re an idiot. You realize that, right? He’s my brother-in-law! I’m not going to help you break into his house.”

Simurgh, still grinning, proceeded to massage his jaw. “Just drop it. I’m not a child for you to watch out for.” He nodded towards the entrance to Icarus’ room and the bar outside. “Come on, Icarus. Tell me that this doesn’t interest you in the slightest. A chance to do what we all dreamed of doing? Travel to the end of the world, be named champions of the gods, rule the world? Destroy the Oracles? Leave all this,” he gestured at the inn, “behind? Come on. One more adventure, and I’ll leave your life for good, if you want. You’ll never see hide nor hair of me till the end of time.”

He looked expectantly at his friend, a wild grin on his face. Icarus merely stood there, a somewhat bemused look on his face. Simurgh sighed and pressed onward. “Gemma would have wanted it. I promise you she would have wanted you to do this. And you’ll what, serve drinks in a backend inn till the end of time?”

The moment Simurgh said those words, some indication dawned on his face that he had gone too far. Icarus glared at him, tossing his book to the ground. The innkeeper looked ready to punch Simurgh, an almost feral snarl etched on his face. “Times have changed, like I said. I’ve got a life here now. I can’t go running around, chasing after fever dreams and getting people killed. If you keep running along in the footsteps of a flaming deity, then good for you. But don’t expect me to bail out your burned corpse!” He waved at the inn outside. “Me, I’m staying here to care for my nieces. They need me, far more than your deluded fantasies need me! And unlike you, I can trust them not to get those that i love killed!”

There was a moment of silence between them, with Icarus glaring at his friend, while Simurgh merely stood there, his expression stony. Finally, Simurgh winced. “Fine. I’ll leave.” Simurgh strode away from his friend, slipping out through the slightly ajar door, leaving a stormy Icarus in his room, alone.

Icarus stood there in silence for some time, thoughts racing through his head. He swallowed, for a moment doubting if he should have said that. After almost a minute standing there, stunned, he sighed and came back out to the bar. Almost immediately, the smell of smoke filled the air. Icarus gasped, rushing over to his stew pot, which had almost burned while he was arguing with Simurgh. An agitated Kestrel dashed up to him. “Cetan took off for the Shipbuilders, Simurgh just came out in a huff, Caladrius left without giving a tip, and you almost burned the stew. Are you sure you want me working here now? Couldn’t you just give me my two weeks notice or something?”

Icarus grinned and ruffled the feathers on her head, making her grimace. “Oh, come on. Your sister would strangle me if I let you run off to the docks again, and it looks like you got things under control.” He waved a talon at the inn. Most of the griffons had begun clearing out, paying for their meals or drinks, while a few, such as Rook, stayed around to chat.

Kestrel sighed and began gathering up dishes, accidentally sloshing some leftover stew onto her apron as she did so. She muttered a word that Icarus did not know where she learned, but nodded. “Sure, I guess. But I still want to join a ship, no matter what father says.”

Icarus frowned. “Is this really the best time? Given the stakes, I don’t think they’ll want anyone without a bit of sailing-.”

Rook chuckled and tossed a coin to Kestrel, who had just refilled his drink. “Nah, you're a bit outdated. Given recent circumstances, I imagine anyone would be happy for another crew member.”

Icarus paused in the middle of wiping the counter down for the hundredth time and glanced at Rook. “You think of any crews that might have a spot?”

Rook shrugged. “Depends on who runs it and whether or not they had a spot open. Most ships don’t have opening right now, what with all the dangers with sailing at the moment, but that might change, given recent circumstances. For all we know, ships could have more open slots than normal.

“I know The Bounty had a slot open, although Peregrine probably got that filled immediately. He needed a carpenter or something like, though, so that’s probably a bad idea. The bastard has a habit of leaving as soon as possible.” He chuckled and took another swig. “Goliath mentioned that he had lost a crewmember in a storm recently, but I doubt either of you would like The Prometheus.”

“What’s wrong with The Prometheus?” Kestrel asked.

“Don’t tell Gawain that any of us said this,” a nearby griffon chimed in, nodding towards Rook with a ‘blame him’ look on his face, “but everyone pretty much agrees that they’re a bunch of pirates who give griffons a bad name. Vocal minorities and all that. They’re the closest thing to bona fide Oracles here right now.”

Icarus flinched. “Watch it,” he muttered, “I don’t want trash talk in my inn. Knowing rumors, one griffon mention a thief pony and then everybody is shooting alicorns on sight.”

Rook shrugged. “To be fair, they tend to make good shooting targets, even if you only see one every thousand years.” Icarus gave him a flat glance. “Alright, point taken,” Rook muttered, chuckling softly. He tossed a few coins to Icarus. “Keep the change,” he said as he stood up and stretched. “I’m heading to see how my crew is doing. Have a good one.” He left the building, leaving only a few in the inn.

Icarus sighed as he watched Rook go. “Anyone else leaving soon?”

There was the creaking of the door a second later, however, distracting of all thoughts of unpaid tabs. Cetan entered the inn, doing her best to avoid being noticed. However, it didn’t take long for a griffon to notice and a cheer to go up from the patrons. “Hey!” One griffon cheered. “It’s everyone's favorite shipwright!”

Cetan gave them a slight smile, albeit an embarrassed one, and made her way to her uncle and sister. “I see you’re taking to this well,” she said, chuckling as she watched Kestrel scurry about the bar. “Icarus paying you well?”

“I want my two weeks notice,” Kestrel muttered under her breath. “The sooner I get fired, sooner I can get on a ship.”

Cetan winced. “About that…”

Icarus raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, he was pulled away by orders for food, leaving Kestrel to hear the news. “Well?” Kestrel asked, bouncing on her paws. “You get hired by someone?”

“Peregrine, actually.”

Icarus dropped the dishes he was carrying, causing them to shatter on the floor. A cheer went up from those still in the bar, and immediately half a dozen new drinks were ordered to celebrate the newest sailor.

Before long the inn smelled of newly opened beer as the patrons toasted Cetan, who, despite her embarrassment, joined in the drinks all the same. Kestrel joined in as well, although Icarus made sure to give her something that wouldn’t knock her out.

“How’d it happen?” One of the patrons asked as a second toast was started.

Cetan frowned slightly, thinking. “Oddly enough, he mentioned coming across I paper I had written. I’d assume that was my thesis, but I don’t know how he got his hands on that.”

Kestrel let out a squeak, but it went unnoticed by the others. She leaned back in her chair, happy to toast to her sister’s accomplishment. When the drinks began to go around for a second time, she made her way upstairs, certain that she would have fainted from any more alcohol. Making it to her room, she creaked the window open and crept onto the roof.

Kestrel sat outside her uncle’s inn, thinking as she rocked back and forth on the second story roof. Her wings were extended behind her, helping her balance as she moved. The necklace that she wore, and still felt guilt over stealing, hung around her neck. A little while ago, she had felt a slight pain where it hung, but it had faded, making her certain that she had imagined it.

Below her scurried the inhabitants of Griffonstone. Most of them carried various objects with them as they worked, while others merely carried messages to other captains. Today, of all days, was the best day to ship watch, given the recent news. She saw Peregrine, chatting with Aquila by the docks, and Rook, his hat the only thing making him stick up in the crowds at the docks.

Several ships, she had noticed, had already left for the East, their captains clearly eager to get the adventure started. She sighed, spotting her father working amongst the captains. She fingered the necklace, briefly considering if she should return it. Then, his words from yesterday came hurtling back to her head, and she clutched it all the tighter.

She sighed and leaned back on the roof, using her wings to prop her up. “Stupid Oracles,” she muttered under her breath. “I could be sailing now, if it weren’t for you.”

She sat in silence for some time longer, the distant hubbub of griffons aiding in her relaxing. At one point she thought she could see Simurgh, flying through the air, but she was fairly certain that was her imagination.

By the time the sun was almost in the center of the sky, Icarus came up to where she rested, a plate of food with him. He slid it to her across the roof. “Cetan on The Bounty, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, watching his niece for a sign of reacting.

Kestrel chuckled and took the offered food, biting into it with her beak with enormous relish. “I think that’s my fault. I was going to visit dad, and I had Cetan’s thesis on hand. Bumped into Peregrine on the way.”

“Huh,” Icarus murmured, doing his best to slide back through the window. “Let me know if you see anything interesting.”

Kestrel nodded. After she had finished her meal, she sighed and jumped from the roof, her wings helping her land with a somewhat-graceful spin. She winced as she hit the ground, her necklace having flipped and hitting her on the beak.

As she did her best to get up, she noticed a stranger walking up to the inn. She recognized most visitors to her uncle’s inn, mostly due to feather patterns or mannerisms, yet this griffon was unlike any she had ever spotted in the city.

He had a black cloaked wrapped around himself, which bulged oddly at the wings. His eyes were pale yellow slits, making her uneasy as he glanced at her. He approached, his face clouded in shadow. “This Gemma’s Rest?” His voice was oddly quiet, sending shivers down Kestrel spine.

“Well, yes, but everyone just calls it Icarus’ inn,” Kestrel said, pointing towards the door. “You want to see Icarus? I can take you to him, if you’re looking for him.”

The stranger frowned, and for a moment he looked at Kestrel as if seeing her for the first time. “I’m not looking for Icarus. I’m looking for his nieces.”

Kestrel took a nervous step backwards. “Um, why?”

The stranger, in response to Kestrel’s step back, took a step forward, a talon moving towards her necklace. “I take it you would be the younger of the two?” There was a macabre grin on his face as he stepped forward. “That necklace, it seems, belongs to a colleague of mine. I need you to-”

Kestrel didn’t need any more prompting than that. She dashed away, doing her best to avoid looking at the stranger. Her necklace swung back and forth as she ran, breathing hard as panicked thoughts ran through her head. It was safe, she figured, to assume that this stranger was definitely not on the same side as her uncle.

However, before she could dash far, the stranger had caught up with her. He snorted. “My legs are a good six inches longer than yours,” he growled, placing a paw on her tail and pulling her to a dead stop. “I’m not that easy to outrun.”

The pair of them stood behind Icarus’ inn, where they could still hear the cheers coming from inside the inn. The stranger, she noticed, was grimacing. “Necklace,” he snapped, his eyes hard as he took her in. He held out a talon, and Kestrel could make out the white feathers adorning his body for the first time.

Kestrel swallowed. “It’s my father’s, not-”

The stranger sighed and threw back his hood, revealing a face adorned with snow-white feathers. Several scars adorned his head, and his catlike eyes glowered at her. “You took it from him, that much is clear. So hand it over. I don’t have time to deal with this kind of idiocy. It belongs to Vane, and you’d be stupid to hold it out from me.”

“I thought it belonged to Raven, not-” Kestrel’s words caught in her throat, unable to continue as the identity of her attacker began to dawn on her.

There was the sound of metal on metal as the figure drew a sword from beneath his cloak. It was ever-so-slightly curved, and Kestrel could make out runes glowing along the length of the blade, which seemed to be flickering slightly in the summer heat. Still pinning Kestrel with a paw, he lowered the blade so that it was level with her neck. “Necklace. Now. Or I’ll cut it off of you.”

Kestrel’s next words caught in her throat. “You’re… you’re… those swords…”

“Gareth, yes. I know,” Gareth growled. He flicked his wrist slightly, leaving a slight mark on Kestrel’s neck. “Make up you damn mind, child.”

“I thought you were-”

“Idiot,” Gareth muttered. Kestrel felt a searing pain as his sword flashed by her neck, aimed at the necklace. There was a clink as the necklace, its cord severed, fell to the ground. Gareth sneered, picking the necklace off the ground. He proceeded to tie it around the hilt of his sword. “Was that really that-”

Kestrel let out a scream as she felt blood trickling down the side of her neck. Shouts began to ring out from inside the inn as the commotion was heard by Icarus and his patrons. It wasn’t a deep cut, not by a long shot, but it still burned as if it had cut to the bone.

“Dammit,” Gareth growled. “I don’t have time for this.”

He turned to go, but before he could walk away, a voice stopped him. “Let the girl go.” Simurgh, unseen by either of them, had somehow made his way to the pair of them. There was a light scroll held under one of his wings, and he appeared unarmed.

“Simurgh?” Gareth spat. “You have the audacity to challenge me now, of all times, you bastard?” The Oracle captain sighed, gesturing with a sword for Simurgh to approach. He raised an eyebrow and gestured to the bleeding Kestrel, who looked ready to pass out. “What does she matter to you?”

“And give her back the necklace,” Simurgh continued, striding towards the Oracle with a cocky grin on his face. He tossed his scroll to the ground and raised his mutilated talon, making a shooing gesture to Gareth. “You picked a really bad time to-”

Gareth snorted and swung his blade at Simurgh. Simurgh sidestepped, his form moving like water. Gareth allowed himself a slight grin as he rebalanced his sword arm. “You still know how to fight, I see.”

“Necklace,” Simurgh growled, pointing towards Gareth’s sword. “It’s not yours.”

Gareth sighed and swung his sword upward, nicking Simurgh under his left eye. Simurgh, blood trickling slightly from the cut, lunged forward at Gareth, whose catlike eyes widened, displaying the slits clearly.

Simurgh’s mutilated talon collided with Gareth’s chest. The Oracle almost dropped his sword as he let out a gasp. Simurgh, moving like a snake, swung his back legs at Gareth’s paws, aiming to knock the Oracle off balance. Gareth snorted and used his wings to rise into the air, and Simurgh pursued, shooting into the air like a rocket.

At this point, Icarus, Cetan and quite a few other griffons had gathered, and they had managed to pull a still gasping Kestrel away from the battle. Caladrius knelt next to Kestrel, using a rather large rag to block any more blood from flowing out.

Simurgh continued to do his best to battle Gareth, who in turn was doing his best to speed away from the city. Gareth snarled as Simurgh’s whiplike tail fastened itself around his wings, Simurgh speed downwards, back towards the inn and dragging Gareth with him. Gareth’s feathers were flapping wildly as they spiraled towards the ground, his wings moving in panicked motions.

“Damn you, Simurgh,” Gareth snarled as he and Simurgh collided with the roof of the inn, breaking several of the boards. Gareth let out a gasp, his eyes wide as Simurgh managed to stand up. “This was not what-”

“Necklace.” Simurgh stood over the Oracle, his eyes hard. “I don’t have time to deal with your idiocy.”

Gareth opened his mouth to argue, but Simurgh’s clenched talon collided with his head. Winded, Gareth let out a cough and nodded towards his sword, which had landed a short distance from him on the boards of the roof. “Take it,” he spat, gesturing to the necklace that sat tied to it.

Simurgh did so and threw Gareth’s sword to him. It clattered next to the captain, who took it while giving an ugly look to Simurgh “Get out of Griffonstone,” Simurgh continued, nodding towards the East. “Otherwise, I’ll kill you here and now.”

“You are going to die,” Gareth growled. "Have you learned nothing from the past twelve years?" Simurgh gave him that same cold look. Gareth let out a snarl and leapt off the roof, speeding away, taking his swords with him.

Simurgh watched the captain go. When Gareth had vanished from view, the panicked silence that had seemed to grip those standing by Kestrel broke. Almost immediately, panicked shouts and murmuring broke out amongst the inn’s patrons, while Cetan watched her sister as Caladrius tended to her. Simurgh let out a soft chuckle as he spotted Gabriel standing next to Icarus. Simurgh glanced at the pair, stored the necklace under a wing, waved, and the pair rose into the air and landed where Simurgh stood on the cracked roof.

Simurgh turned around to look at the two of them, and there was a moment of uneasy silence as they looked at each other. Simurgh gave Gabriel a slight grin, but was greeted with the governor's glare. “You’ve got a nice daughter,” Simurgh muttered under his breath.

Gabriel strode across the cracked and chipped roof, which Icarus was examining, to where Simurgh stood. “Simurgh… it’s been far too long.”

Simurgh grinned. “Well, at least we’re able to f-” Gabriel then punched Simurgh in the chest. Simurgh doubled over, letting out ragged gasps. “What the hell!” Simurgh spat, his words coming out hoarse. “I just saved your daughter’s life! Since when does that warrant this kind of reaction?” He pointed towards the cut Gareth had given him. “I even took a sword blow for her. Why do you assholes always seem to punch me when I do something useful?"

“Let’s see,” Gabriel snarled, his voice quiet. Down below, the spectators were exchanging nervous glances, but none of them had any interest in stepping between the Gabriel and the unknown griffon. “You show up in the city, nineteen years after you tear apart our lives. You saved my daughter, wonderful. And I am grateful for that. I forgive you for all wrongs you've done against me. But it’s not me that you owe apology to.”

Simurgh grimaced, brushing himself off as he glared at Gabriel. “Oh all the stupid-”

“I could have you hauled off in irons,” Gabriel spat, “or imprisoned for the next ten years. You’d deserve it. Should I?”

“Leave it,” Icarus said, speaking for the first time since he had flown onto the roof. His voice was pained as he looked between his two friends. “Gabriel, let him go.”

Gabriel’s jaw dropped open. “After everything he’s done to you?” He waved a talon wildly at Simurgh. "How do you think he des-"

“Kestrel’s alive thanks to him,” Icarus murmured, nodding towards where his niece sat, still tended to by the other griffons. “We owe him thanks for that much, at the very least.”

Gabriel gave Simurgh a long glare. “Fine. But if Icarus orders it, I’ll have you hung for all you’ve done.” The general strode off, leaving Icarus and Simurgh standing on the roof, a group of panicked griffons down below.

Simurgh glanced at Icarus. "Well? Willing to rejoin the crew now?" He grinned. "If anything, it'll irritate Gabriel."

Icarus gave his friend the look one would give a madman. "What is wrong with you? I'm not taking Kestrel anywhere near the Oracles, especially after today."

Simurgh shrugged, doing his best not to look hurt. “Fair enough. Want to get back to them?” Icarus nodded and they jumped from the roof and landed next to those down below. Simurgh retrieved his scroll, which he had dropped when he had begun his conflict with Gareth. A few of the griffon cast him nervous looks, but he made a placating gesture. "I just saved the day, folks. Oracle gone because of me."

Looks were exchanged. Simurgh sighed. "I'll be taking questions, if you like." Quite a few griffons rushed forward. "Tomorrow. I need to take care of few things first. I swear on the Stormlord that I'll still be here tomorrow." The griffons let out a collective sigh and dispersed, with a few still standing around after the majority had left. Simurgh then turned towards where Kestrel was.

Kestrel gave Simurgh an appreciate grin as he approached. He noticed that her face was pale, but it did little to curb her enthusiasm. “Thanks,” she began, her voice chipper as ever, “how’d you do it?” She made a shooing gesture at Caladrius, who had been attempting to wrap a bandage around her cut. “Shame he got the-”

Simurgh tossed the necklace to Kestrel, who looked from it to him, her expression utterly bewildered. “How?”

“I beat him up,” came the nonchalant reply. Simurgh glanced at the gathered griffons, a pensive look on his face. It would cause a stir, that much was certain. But it would have the desire affect. He wrestled with the decision for some time, but finally, he gave Kestrel a wild look, a grin beginning to form on his face. “Seems you’ve got the Oracles down your neck. Want to come to the end of the world in my crew?”

Author's Note

I wanted to name this chapter 'Bad Guys Yell At Each Other' or 'Definitely Not Local', but I figured that it wasn't exactly a good description of the other two scenes. On that note, this was not planned to run as long as it did. The original draft had the Oracle scene run five thousand words, as opposed to the seven that it did (plus Gareth's attack on Kestrel). Original drafts only had Grimlock's theft at Roc Point as far as villain scenes, but that was mostly because I was originally planning to set it before Gale's prophecies in the previous chapters. After some brainstorming, I swapped the order of those two scenes and ended up with this order.

Not something I have any plans of heavily covering, but Passerine's size is actually due to acromegaly. I spent a fair bit of time picking my father's brain on the topic, thanks to his medical career, but it wasn't exactly the most helpful for my question (to put it bluntly: he never took fantasy anatomy). Regardless, mostly a fun little tidbit about the reasoning for Passerine's design, as well as an in-universe reason for those of you curious about his size.