I.
The Death of Fear
In griffon territory, mountains are a feature that dominates our beautiful landscape. It was upon these great natural wonders that the most powerful clans built their homesteads. Such homesteads have since become the foundation to the most powerful cities in the world. One such city, resting between the peaks of three separate mountains, was the most glorious of all.
This was the city of Gryphus, capitol to the Gryphonic Union and summit to the Council of Clans, and most importantly, it was my home.
The city was a monument in and of itself, a monument to both the amazing technology belonging to the griffon people, and to their sheer perseverance. Huge towers, that were given foundation in the very mountain itself, were connected by thick walls of bright white stone and completely encircled the three mountain peaks. Inside of these walls, a great platform had been constructed, forming the base of the city's many buildings.
And I was lucky enough to have laid claim to an office with a window, so that if I ever wonder what it is all for, I need only look over to see Gryphus in all of her glory. Of course, said window was not an actual window. In all honesty it was a balistraria, something to be used by archers in case of a surprise attack upon the Citadel. However, since such a thing was all but impossible, the balistaria found more use in being a window than being a defensive structure.
It was a regular day, and I had an unusually large amount of paper work to get done. The excess paper work had likely come about due to my absence while dealing with a small hydra infestation in the Lowlands. But, as we stated in our oath: ‘We officers of the council deserve no rest and shall carry our burdens with a happy heart.’
What I wouldn’t give for a day off...
As I signed off on some trivial piece of documentation, that I had not the slightest intent to read, a timid knock came from my door. I breathed a heavy sigh. It was probably some secretary or a captain’s servant coming to give me some morbidly detailed training maneuvers…
“Come in…” I called out hollowly as I placed my sketchy signature upon another piece of parchment.
The response was slow and careful, like an animal on the first day of spring just after a long hibernation. The door creaked open, and out from the crack came the brown-feathered head of my first lieutenant, Swift Talon. Now, his name may sound rather... pony-like, but there is a very, very good reason for that.
“Ah, lieutenant, I had been hoping for a distraction and you’re just the thing I need.” I declared, placing my quill back into the almost empty inkwell.
“Oh, well, I’m always happy to oblige you, Marshal Astor.” He opened the door the rest of the way, revealing a mantle of dark yellow fur. His front talons were the common yellow associated with most talons, but the other set were... well, a bit different. If one looked to the other half of my young lieutenant, they could see the flank of a brown horse along with a pair of matching hooves.
From what I’ve heard, the young hippogriff’s father was an ambassador of some sort, sent to obtain several exclusive trading rights for the Union when concerning The Principality of Equestria. While there his fancy was apparently caught by a maid or a servant of some sort in the castle. Needless to say, they got together.
While I personally find such a relation to be disgusting and wholesomely unnatural, I would not blame the boy for the shortcomings of his parents. If anything, I was impressed with the lad. Life for a hippogriff is notoriously hard but even with the odds stacked against him, he had the gall to join the army and then, through hard work and persistence, got promoted to an officer’s rank.
It was no secret that this unholy abomination, had quickly become my most prized subordinate.
“Have a seat Talon,” I said, gesturing towards one of the two overly stuffed chairs sitting before my desk. The lieutenant walked across the room and situated himself accordingly. “So, how have your parents been?”
“They’re both very well, sir. Mother has gone south to meet some relatives and my father is on his way to Zebrican... I hear they are having some issues with hyenas or something?” he stated with an awkward chuckle, leading me to believe that he had little experience with social interaction.
“Yes, quite right you are. The conflicts between the two are having poor effects on our trade routes along the whole of Zebrican. We’re hoping to settle the matter before it gets out of hand.” I waved a claw in the air dismissively. “But enough about that, I heard a rumor that you’re going to become an older brother in the months to come. Send your mother my regards.”
Talon’s eyebrows shot up at my words and his head cocked to the side. “I… I’m surprised that you know about that, sir... or even care for that matter.”
I flexed my claw in the air, spotted a bit of filth hiding beneath a claw and cleaned it out with my other nail. “Well, I find that knowing just a bit about your subordinates’ personal lives makes things a bit easier.”
The hippogriff slowly nodded his head in agreement. “Well, thank you sir. I’ll be sure to tell her you send your regards.” He put on a stupid-looking lopsided smile and let out a short chuckle. “I think you’re probably the only griffon, besides my father, that has said anything positive about the whole thing.”
“I would imagine so.” I reached down and turned the latch to the lowest drawer on my desk, revealing my impressive supply of liquor. I brought up a bottle of lowlander scotch along with two glasses. “Would you like a drink, lieutenant?”
“Oh, no thank you sir.” He put his claws up and gave a quick negative shaking of the head. “I don’t drink.”
“Still?” I declared, placing one of the two glasses back into the drawer. “It must be the pony half of you because I’ve yet to find a griffon that doesn’t drink, even if it’s just on occasion.” I poured out the thick brown liquid, brought up the full glass to my beak and took a whiff of its calming odor. “So, have you come to my office to watch me drink, or?”
“Oh! Oh yes, I’m sorry, I almost forgot. The chancellor’s secretary came to me earlier… she said that he’s requested your presence in the council chambers once the current meeting is finished.”
I stared at the lad for a few seconds and then back down to the drink in my hand. I took the glass away from my beak and placed it on the edge of my desk. I wouldn’t want to smell like booze when speaking with the leader of the Gryphonic Union. “And when does that meeting end?”
“Half past noon, sir,” he said without missing a beat.
I looked over at the grandfather clock wedged into the corner of my office. “It’s noon,” I stated blandly and started to tap my desk. “Would you do me a favor, Talon?”
“Yes sir, I’ll do anything for you.” The hippogriff stood up and gave a hearty salute with his right claw. “Your will is my command!”
“Uh-huh... yeah, can you go to my home and ask my wife to give you my uniform and then bring it back to me.”
Talon looked a bit disappointed at that, “Oh, that’s all sir? If I may ask, why didn’t you just put your uniform in the officer’s closet?”
I shrugged, “Several reasons actually: I like my wife to wash it instead of some underpaid citadel maid, I didn’t think I would need it and,” I reached up to the top of my head and plucked one of my grey feathers to show it to my subordinate, “it’s my molting season.”
Talon winced at the sight of me plucking out a feather, as it would have been quite painful had they not been ready to fall out. “I see. Well, I’ll be back before you know it, sir. My mother didn’t staple ‘Swift’ to my name for nothing.” He then walked over to the door and left my office.
I, on the other claw, sat there thinking to myself. Chancellor Vrees wants to meet with me… alone… personally. Why do I get the feeling that this won’t turn out well in the slightest.
Looking into the mirror, I could see that my wife had done a fine job. The dark blue cloth had been scrubbed clean and the golden buttons, along with the few medals I had acquired, had been shined to perfection. Yet, despite its flawlessness, I was still having trouble with the damned flaps where my wings went through.
“Lieutenant, if you would be so kind,” I said looking over my shoulder while gesturing towards my back with a claw. The lad acted quickly and after a few moments of maneuvering, my wings slid into their proper places. “There we are,” I announced flexing my wings. “So, do I look fit for a meeting with his eminence?”
“You look fine, sir. Chancellor Vrees will have no problems with your uniform.” My subordinate walked over to my cabinet on the far side of the wall. He reached in and pulled from it a long sword which had a red pommel and was sheathed in fine white manticore leather. “Though, I don’t think it would be proper if you forgot your sword,” he said, bringing it over.
I took the weapon from his grasp and promptly attached it to my belt. “Excellent, I’m glad you remembered. I always forget the thing since I hardly ever use it. Now, how much longer before the meeting ends?”
Talon looked over at my office’s clock. “Ten more minutes, sir.”
I nodded and gave my uniform a quick once over, checking to ensure that everything was still perfectly aligned. Once satisfied, I went over to the door and swung it open. “Thank you for your help today lieutenant,” I said without turning around, “have the rest of the day off. I doubt anything of consequence will happen.”
“Yes sir, thank you sir,” he responded, and I could only assume that he gave me a quick salute while my back was turned; such was his nature. “I wish you luck in your meeting with Vrees.”
And with that I walked out the door and headed down the hallway. The walls of the citadel were lined with the portraits of ‘great’ generals who completed such feats as defeating a hydra ‘horde’ or putting down some diamond dog ‘insurrection’. Really, what qualified as ‘great’ or ‘heroic’ was laughable. I’ve done most of the things that these painted faces had done and none of it was all too difficult.
Huh, they’ll probably have my face plastered to one of these walls when I’m dead and gone in a few years.
I didn’t much care for the thought of being memorialized on a canvas. The artist always gave those of us in uniform a sour, serious expression that made us all look like vicious warriors or contemptuous superiors. That’s just not how I want to be remembered.
Aside from the paintings though, the halls were also busy with messengers, pages, secretaries, guards, etc. Most of the time, when I’m simply here to do the paperwork and then leave, I would be bumped into, slammed and pretty much pulverized at random. Now that I had my uniform on though, I was finding the stroll through the corridor to be much more peaceful.
While walking I found that my immediate path was being blocked by two lovely young women in officer’s uniforms, talking to each other at the side of the hall. When I reached them, I gave a polite cough and spoke aloud, “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt your conversation ladies, but I have a most urgent meeting with Chancellor Vrees and find myself in need to get by.”
“Oh, I’m sorry Field Marshal Astor. I didn’t mean to block the hall,” declared the youngest, which was also the one farthest out into the corridor, as she stepped to the side until she leaned against the wall.
“It’s quite fine,” I said, brandishing the most disarming smile I could muster. I walked up a few steps and then gave a quick nod of the head, “Thank you ladies, and may I just say, both of you look beautiful today.” The younger of the two let out a giggle while the other one merely turned a slight bit redder.
My weakness for the opposite sex is countered only by my ability to woo them. I may be married, but what’s the harm in flirting now and again just to prove that I’m still the stud I used to be?
I finally came upon the double steel doors that lead into the lobby room before the council chambers. Standing in front of these doors stood two griffon guards standing on their back legs. Each was wearing the full body armor of a Union soldier. Everything was present: the faceless helm, the shining bronze chest piece, the chainmail leggings and, of course, the signature guardian halberd.
After another glance, I noticed that upon their back hung a cylindrical metal tube connected to a wooden stock. ‘Muskets’ I believe was the name bestowed upon them. They were some new invention that had been developed in response to the increasing manticore population. I have yet to see one used in combat, but I have heard that the strange new weapons were quite potent.
“Can we help you, Marshal?” asked one of the guards, breaking my gaze upon the musket.
I shook my head as my attention was snapped short and then arched my head back to look up at the standing guardian. “Ah, yes. I was given word that his eminence, Chancellor Vrees, has requested my presence at the end of his current meeting.”
“We have been informed of your arrival,” announced the other guard. “Please enter the lobby.” And with that the guard slammed a talon against the doors and shoved them open.
If you knew I was coming, then why waste my time? I thought to myself as I passed the two of them. The lobby was just as well decorated as the rest of the citadel. The floors and walls were made of a cool blue marble that reflected light from a chandelier hanging over head. Along the side of the room were magnificent pillars, which I doubted did anything other than make the place look grand.
The room itself was completely empty, save for an enchanting young lady sitting in a desk just before the gem studded doors leading to the council chambers. The female griffon’s fur was a dark, almost jet black while ivory white feathers adorned her head, but the tip of each feather was just the slightest bit green. And then there were her eyes, I don’t think I could ever recall anyone with such eyes. They held an air of unyielding intellect and seemed to be cut from pure emerald.
The woman was filing the nail at the end of one of her talons and as I came closer she put the filing instrument away with business like precision. She then looked up at me with those emerald eyes and gave me a beautiful smile.
“Field Marshal Astor,” she announced in a voice so full of melody that I could have sworn she had just sung my name aloud, “the meeting with the regional commanders is going a bit past its allotted time. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait for a bit.”
“That’s perfectly alright; I don’t mind waiting. Besides, the chancellor need wait for no one as we all wait for him.” She gave another dazzling smile and looked me up and down with those eyes of hers. “May I just say, your eyes are absolutely fan-” I was about to lay down the old Astor charm but the young secretary promptly interrupted me.
“It’s true what they say, you know. You really are the most attractive male in the citadel.” Well this is new. “Astor, oh, I hope you won’t find it rude that I called you by your first name field marshal,” she said, sliding her talons across the desk. “But yes, Astor, I know that this may be a bit sudden but I think that you and I may enjoy becoming a bit more... intimate.”
Hmm, I don’t think I've ever had a woman make advances on me before, and this was certainly to the most extreme that it could have been. I mean, just offering herself up like that! If I was a younger griffon, I doubt I would have been able to say no... I was finding it difficult, even now, to do just that.
“T-thank you for the... offer, but I will have to decline,” I stated, bringing a talon up to toy with my collar, hoping that some of my sudden nervousness would be vented out, “I believe that this is indeed all too sudden and despite that, I am a married griffon.”
“Is that what’s stopping you?” she said, clicking her nails together. “Marriage is nothing to griffons of influence, such as you. The chancellor often partakes in forbidden desires with mystery women, right there in the council chamber, and neither the councilors or his wife are the wiser.” I found my nerves becoming a bit more strayed as the secretary revealed to me personal secrets concerning my ultimate superior.
“Oh don’t be so stressed about it,” declared the woman as she caught onto my nervousness, “affairs are perfectly natural in a healthy political system. Besides,” her emerald eyes locked upon me and seemed to give off a slight glimmer, “such things make everything a bit more, let's say, intriguing.”
I found myself entirely flustered and unable to intelligently retort against the attractive female. I was about to counter with something entirely crude, but thankfully the gem-studded doors burst open before the words could leave my beak.
The first out of the room was none other than the Lord Marshal herself. Her uniform was the default dark blue shade for all military personal appointed by the council, but there were several strands of golden ropes dangling down from her shoulders. Her feathers were a vibrant yellow, matching the medals and ribbons adorning her, while her fur was a silky white.
I never really met with her personally, and I probably never would. As she passed me I stood straight and gave a solid salute. She simply waved a hand dismissively in my direction, putting me back into a stance of ease. She did not speak to anyone as she walked and seemed to be in a hurry to leave.
Several other generals and marshals walked away from the chamber, each of them having something to do with either one of the great mountain cities or with some border outpost. But as the crowd thinned, I caught the visage of one of my least favorite griffons in the Union…
General Macht von Highrock.
His feathers, coat and even his uniform were a solid black, probably a reflection of that black pit that acts as his heart. As a general, he only held power in the territory claimed by his clan, but Macht had levered his way into almost entirely controlling the ruling family of Highrock and its council members.
But just as I had spotted him, he had spotted me and was now en-route towards my position. “Marshal Astor!” he called out in his thick Highrock accent, “vhat a pleasure it is to be seeing you here. I vas under the assumption zhat you would not be able to attend the meeting because of you holding no real sway.” He looked around at the dispersing crowd. “But I do think zhat you may already be a bit late.”
“Yes, well, I wasn’t summoned here for the regional meeting. Chancellor Vrees wishes to have a private audience with me.”
“Truly mien friend?” he said with a slight chuckle, “vell I do not envy you. Lord Marshal Sora and Vrees got into quite the little spat; something about succession and how he could not keep going without zehr’ being some inclination to an heir.” Macht gave another annoying laugh and then continued, “To say the least, Chancellor Vrees had a far more different opinion on the matter. He is not in a good mood.”
“Well, I really should be going then, I’d hate to give him reason to be mad at me.” I retorted, turning around in an attempt to break the conversation.
“Good luck to you Marshal! Oh, and I think you may have dropped something!” I looked over my shoulder to see that he was holding one of my grey feathers in his talon. “I vill have to make a return visit in the fall, by then you should have molted completely and I shall have the pleasure of seeing you bald for an entire month!”
It was then that I realized that there was only one thing I hated more than paper work, and that thing was none other than Macht von Highrock.
And with that thought in mind, I entered unto the council chambers for my meeting with the most powerful griffon alive.
The cavernous room before me was… intimidating, to say the least. Pillars, similar to those in the lobby, shot up to meet the ceiling overhead. At the center of the roof was a large circle of painted glass which depicted several talons wrapped around a single quill. Beneath the skylight was the only furniture present in the room, a grand round table made of the finest lumber the lowlands had to offer, which could seat at least a hundred separate griffons.
And then, situated on one side of the table, I could see a raised platform with a desk situated atop of it. Sitting at that desk was none other than Chancellor Vrees himself. Both brown and white was present all about him, as his coat was speckled, but it could barely be seen due to the heavy purple robes draped over him.
Vrees was putting away some papers, but when he saw me he merely tossed them haphazardly upon his desk. “Marshal Astor, I’m glad that you could make it.”
“I had little choice in the matter, Chancellor,” I declared with a courteous bow.
“Too true… all too true.” He unfurled his wings and glided down to stand before me. “I suppose you are wondering why I have called you here.”
“The question has crossed my mind a few times.”
“More like consumed it entirely, eh?” He came closer and placed a talon upon my shoulder. The reassuring gesture only made me feel more uneasy. “Your father and I were friends, long ago before all... this.” He gestured up towards the ceiling and then over to the table. “Tell me Marshal, do you have any children?”
“Um... yes, Your Eminence,” I stated awkwardly as I wondered if the most influential figurehead in the Union invited me to his office for small talk, “I have a son.”
He brought his talon back and gave me a heavy slap on the back. “A soldier just like his grandpa and father, is he?”
“No, actually, he’s an archaeologist,” I responded but my answer caused the chancellor’s brow to furrow into a thinking gesture.
“Hmm, what a shame. I had hopped that soldiering would never die in your family line.” He broke the physical connection with me and started to walk back over to his platform. When he got there, he grabbed hold of a little lever that had been hiding on the other side of the desk. When he pulled it back there was a grinding of gears and the wooden table began to shake and shudder.
After a few moments, the center of the table was pulled back to show a scale replica of all the lands within the Gryphonic Union. Every last detail present upon the replica was completely perfect, not a mountain or village out of place. I almost expected little griffons to be living within the tiny buildings.
“Tell me, Marshal Astor,” Vrees said in a voice that was filled with melancholy, “do you love the Union?” When he announced this, his eyes remained fixed upon the miniature land mass, as if he was talking to it instead of me.
“Of course I do. I would not have joined the army had I felt any different.”
The chancellor nodded his head, still opting to remain fixed on the map. “Why... why would you love such a thing?” his voice was hoarse now, almost on the edge of becoming inaudible.
“Your Eminence?” I questioned, unsure on how I should respond to such an inquiry.
“You recall how the Union came to be, don’t you Astor?”
“The signing of the Griffon Unification Proclamation after the war between the mountain clans and the lowland houses,” I said in response, “it’s the first thing they taught us when we were young.”
“Hah!” he cried out as he brought a claw down upon his desk, sending papers scattering all across the floor. “What they say about that document is complete and utter foolishness. It was not a ‘proclamation’ brought about by the desire to unify our people. It was a declaration of submission by our Lowland brothers. If one shred of the story behind it is tru-”
The chancellor was suddenly interrupted by the sound of talons clicking against the stone floor. He looked in the direction of the doorway, and I followed his gaze. Before me walked the secretary from the lobby, carrying in her hands a bottle of some kind.
“Yes, Aya? What is it?” Vrees asked, seeming to come down from his angry rant.
She continued to walk forward and once she reached the table, she spread her wings to fly over to the raised platform where the chancellor was standing. “A gift from Lord Marshal Sora. She wishes to apologize for her rash behavior earlier.” Aya proceeded to hand the bottle over to the chancellor.
Vrees held the bottle up in the colored rays of light that filtered down from the ceiling and then let out a soft chuckle. “Wintertop brandy and it’s of a good year. Thank you Aya, I do think I could use a drink just about now.”
“I’m glad I could please you, Chancellor Vrees.” She turned about and as she passed back round, she looked over to me and gave me a hauntingly beautiful smile followed shortly by a wink.
I was fully intent to watch the woman leave the room, but before I could complete this goal Chancellor Vrees called out to me, “Would you like a glass, Astor?”
I turned back around to see the chancellor holding aloft two drinking glasses, which I assumed had come from one of his desk drawers. I was about to take him up on the offer but then recalled that I was to be on my best behavior... I was never on my best behavior when a drink was in my claw. “No thank you. I don’t drink while on duty, your Eminence.”
Vrees cocked an eyebrow and then placed one of the glasses back down into its respective drawer. “Sure you don’t,” he announced, chuckling while popping the cork to the brandy and started to pour the alcohol into the remaining glass. “Now, what was I saying?”
“Something about the Union, sir,” I answered honestly but with hesitation as I really didn’t enjoy where the conversation was heading.
“Ah, yes. Our precious little Union.” He took a swig from the glass. “Do you know what holds our great nation together?
“I have not the slightest clue, y-”
“Fear.” The Chancellor’s voice deadpanned before he took another sip of the brandy.
I was surprised by his answer and began to shift back and forth nervously. “Fear? Your Eminence?”
“Yes,” he took another gulp, “fear runs this government with an iron grip. Your father was a smart griffon, a damn smart griffon.” He came down from his platform so that he may stand upon the edge of the table, looking down at the map below. “He retired when he realized the truth. When he did this, I thought him a coward, but now I envy him.” He let out a ragged cough and took another drink.
I was quickly finding this conversation more and more uncomfortable. Had I the choice, I would still be in my office doing remedial paper work and putting my signature on random pieces of paper. Anything would be better than this.
Vrees started to walk around on the edge of the table, drinking his brandy as he went around. “I thought that I may have been able to change it.” He coughed again. “But I soon discovered that it is the fear that keeps the Lowland Houses docile and keeps the Council from becoming stagnant and worthless.”
Suddenly, a disgusted look dawned upon his face. “To rule over all this, one must become feared.” He threw the glass upon the map, sending shards of glass to rain down upon the miniature buildings.
“So that’s what I’ve become!” He looked over towards me and shook his head back and forth. “I can no longer be Vrees, the soldier or the leader. I must be Vrees the feared!” he started to scream, “I have become fear incarnate! So when you look upon me, know that I am not Vrees, nor am I Chancellor. I. Am. Fea-” Before he could finish his statement a gurgle erupted from his throat and he toppled down to land upon the replica below him.
Vrees’ words had left me dumbfounded and almost entirely numb. So when he fell down before me, it took me a few seconds to realize what was happening. Once aware, I looked about, wondering what I should do... but it suddenly became all too obvious…
“Guards! Get in here immediately, Chancellor Vrees needs help!” My cry echoed off the walls of the room and became louder than even I could have imagined. Within a few moments, the two guardians, who had been standing at the entrance to the lobby, were in the room and brandishing their halberds.
“What happened?!” declared one of the guards as he jumped over the table to kneel beside Vrees.
“I... t-the chancellor was talking about the Union and... and...” I looked down to see the shattered glass strewn all over the replica and then up to the container of brandy still resting in his desk. “The brandy, the gift from Lord Marshal Sora, it was-” But before I could finish, the guard that had went over to Vrees came back across the table and slowly shook his head in a mournful manner.
“Chancellor Vrees... is dead.”
I came over to look down at the fallen form of my chancellor and somehow, I knew that this would not be the last body to fall upon the Union,
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hey there! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter to this story and didn't find it too boring or drab. To those of the people that read this and also read my other stories...sorry bout the delay but I really wanted to put this out there before moving on.
Anywho, leave comments, opinions, concerns, etc below!
II.
Tip of the Spear
Thank the spirits! At last, I’m home! I thought as I threw myself down into the most comfortable chair within my home. The chair was situated just before a grand fireplace, which had been demanded by my wife when we were searching for a home, and was positioned so that the heat from the fire would be a comfort instead of an annoyance. To my right was a large window with its curtains fully drawn, allowing only the smallest beam of orange twilight to shine into the room.
I need a drink. But by the time the thought had come to mind, my talon was already reaching for the small liquor cabinet situated beneath the chair’s side table. I grabbed hold of the first bottle I could find, popped the cork and took a swig straight from the bottle.
Lowland Whiskey, I thought, reeling back from the strong, almost choking, taste that now plagued my mouth. I let out a heavy cough and placed the bottle down upon the side table, deciding that perhaps remaining sober, at least for a little while, may be for the best.
The entire day, no, the entire blasted week, has been nothing but one disaster after another. To start it off, there was, of course, the assassination of the single most powerful griffon in the Union, and then, thanks to my being a witness to it, I enjoyed a full day of interrogation. On the third day, Gryphus was in a complete and total uproar, and due to my regiment being stationed in the city, I received the joy of cleaning up the entire ill-begotten mess.
I lifted up a claw to rub the side of my head, which was now sporting a tremendous migraine brought about by either the stress or the sudden shot of strong whiskey… or both. The Gryphus griffons, the self-proclaimed epitome of civility and order, were making a mess of an already strenuous situation. It had taken my entire regiment four days to restore order throughout the city, and I had been with them the throughout the ordeal. In fact, I believe this is the first time I’ve been home since the assassination…
“Dear?” spoke a gentle, yet commanding voice from my left.
I turned around in my chair and looked out from the side of the too-large backrest. I was met with the visage of my mate and wife. Her feathers and fur were auburn red; her eyes a light green, almost yellow color; her talons were black; and above all, she was the most beautiful griffon in the whole damn world…
But I’d never let her hear me say it.
“Oh, hello Domitia, any letters from Lentus?” I remarked casually and returned to my original sitting position.
“Letters?!” cried Domitia with frustration as she crossed the room until she stood before me, blocking the fires warmth from reaching me. “You’re gone for days,” she flung her talons into the air, “in the midst of a riot, and you have to gall to come home, asking for letters?!”
“Well, he is my son.” I shrugged and leaned against the chair’s arm. “It’s important to keep in touch with family.”
Domitia let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you have any idea how worried I've been?!” She brought her talons down and gave me a stern look. “I go to my window, and I see soldiers marching in the streets, fires in the distance, and the whole time all I can do is where you are in all of that mess!”
“I love you too, my dear.” I said with a small chuckle, letting a smile stretch across my beak.
“Oh,” she cried, rubbing her eye. Within seconds she was grabbing onto me, resting her head against my chest. “You’re an idiot, do you know that?” she chuckled, her voice muffled by my feathers.
“Hmm, you know, I believe you’re the only one brave enough to call a Marshal of the Council such a thing.” I started to brush my talons trough the feathers on the back of her neck.
We sat there, enjoying each other’s presence. It was good, simple, basic, and after all the complexity that has been surrounding me of late, it came as a great relief. But the moment was cut short by a quick rapping at the door.
I groaned at the sound, allowing the knocking to persist for a few more moments, just to spite the griffon who interrupted my peace. After a minute or so of the persistent tapping, I tried to get up, but when I did, my wife pushed me back down, saying, “I’ll get it…” and with that, she got up and went to answer the door.
Even from my chair, I could hear my mate’s claws tapping against the wood floor as she approached the door. The door let out a loud creaking noise, as it always did, and within moments a conversation began between the unknown visitor and my wife.
“Yes, how can I… Talon? What brings you here?” exclaimed Domitia in a surprised voice. At the mention of my subordinate’s name I leaned into the side of my seat, trying to hear the conversation at the door as clearly as possible.
“Oh, hello ma’am,” replied my lieutenant in his usual pitched tone. “Is Marshal Astor home? I have some rather urgent news. I wish I could say more, but I’m under strict orders to only speak to the marshal when concerning this.”
“Well, I believe that he’s…” I could tell from her tone, that Domitia was about to lie and send my subordinate out on some wild goose chase. So, before my wife could tell poor Talon the lie, I interrupted her.
“I’m in the parlor, lieutenant,” I called aloud. “Please, do come in.”
Within moments, Lieutenant Swift Talon walked through the foyer and into the room I was in. He wore a standard dark blue officers uniform, but bits of armor had been strapped onto his neck, chest, and left shoulder. His worried expression betrayed just how frazzled the young hippogriff was, and his trembling wings suggested that he had been flying very hard to get to me as quickly as possible.
Upon reaching me, Talon gave a brisk salute which I returned with half the conviction. “Sir, word from the Council,” he declared, lowering his salute after a few words. “They demand that you report to the Citadel immediately for an emergency meeting.”
“Hah!” I laughed, grabbing onto the whiskey and taking another shot of the powerful liquor. “What isn’t an emergency these days?” I put the bottle back down and then gave my subordinate a cross look. “But I am wondering why you were at the Citadel to get this information when I appointed both you and Captain Tarn to keep peace in the lower city.”
Talon gave a surprised look and then shook his head while raising his claws in a defensive gesture. “Sir, I was sent a messenger bearing the command of the Council to come get you!”
I sighed, bringing a claw up to rub my brow. “So, they send messengers to my subordinates, telling them to send messages to me… I am humbled by the infinite wisdom of the Council…”
“I apologize, sir. I’ll be returning to my post now.” He started to walk away, but I let out a cough, causing him to stop.
“No, walk with me.” I said, getting up from my chair and stretching a bit. “If Captain Tarn has handled it so far, I doubt another hour of your absence would make much of a difference.”
Talon nodded his head. “Of course, sir,” he responded. I looked over to the room’s archway, and my lieutenant followed my line of sight to see the visage of my wife, whom was sporting a slight scowl. “I’ll just be waiting for you outside, sir,” coughed Talon, walking past Domitia.
“You’re leaving already?” she stated flatly, not moving from her position.
I strode forward and placed my claws on her checks. “I have to.” I said in a calm, reassuring tone. “I’ll be back before dawn.”
“You better be.” Her neck relaxed, meaning that I was the only thing holding her head up. When she spoke again, her voice was soft, delicate, and in complete contrast with what she said, “Because If you’re not, I’ll filet you alive.”
“And that’s why I’ll be back.” I craned my neck forward and brushed my beak against her neck. “The Council and their power be damned, you’re the only one I’m afraid of.” Before I left, we embraced once more and I found myself rather upset at the prospect of having to leave so soon.
We broke contact again, and while I was opening the door, she called out from behind me, saying, “And don’t let them pull you in any deeper than you already are!”
As I closed the door to my home behind me, I looked over to Talon and said, “This better be damn important…”
After passing an annoyingly paranoid guard stationed at the courtyard gatehouse, Talon and I entered unto the Citadel. From outside, the structure looked as if it could fit an entire regiment within a single of its many floors. Inside, however, the place was much more… compact.
The many halls of the Citadel were filled to the brim with pages, maids, soldiers, and a number of other similar things. Chaos was the only word to come to mind as I watched the hoard of griffons push and shove past one another, trying to get to their respective destinations.
After a while, my subordinate and I reached the stairwell that would lead up to the council chambers. The stairwell itself, while still sporting a large host of griffons going back and forth, was far calmer in comparison to the nigh riotous hallways.
As we walked up the stairs, I started to feel that something was just… wrong. I knew that I was missing something obviously important but it had gone by almost entirely unnoticed. Looking up, I watched as a servant scuttled past me on his way to the chaotic floor below. And then it hit me…
It was completely and utterly silent.
Of course there was the noise of claws meeting stone as griffons walked, and the occasional shuffling of papers, but no one was speaking. Usually the Citadel was filled with the conversations of a thousand griffons, but now it would seem that speaking was taboo.
I found myself becoming nervous for no apparent reason. A feeling of dread was looming over this place like a thick woolen blanket on a winter’s night; it may be uncomfortable, but you dare not take it off for fear of the cold.
I did not like the feeling of silence; it was unbecoming and held no value to me. So, in an attempt to break it, I looked over to my lieutenant and said, “Tell me Talon, what news have you heard since all of this began?”
Talon shook his head and looked at me as if he couldn’t believe that I was speaking aloud. “I… well, I haven’t heard much, sir.” he said, regaining some of his composure as he spoke. “I heard that the former Lord Marshal, Sora, escaped before she could be captured.” He looked down as if he had forgotten something. “Oh!” he suddenly cried aloud, “They’ve issued a warrant for her immediate arrest.”
I gave him an unimpressed look and then shook my head. “I could have assumed that by the fact that they were trying to capture her.” He looked down in shame and gave an awkward chuckle. “Is there anything else?”
He looked back at me and gave a half-hearted nod. “I heard that the representatives from Highrock left Gryphus in a hurry," he paused and started to rub a claw against the back of his head. "Speaking of which, there’s a matter I think you should be informed of, sir…”
“Yes? Go on,” I said, encouraging him to continue.
“I’ve been going over the roster, sir, and it seems that nine platoon’s worth of soldiers have defected,” he spoke in a timid, almost sorrowful tone. “I looked into it, sir, and found that all of them were recruited in either the Highrock or Wintertop province.”
“That is… troubling,” I responded, nodding my head. “But if they were not loyal, perhaps this is for the best.”
“I suppose so, sir.”
After that, the walk up to the council chambers remained a silent one.
The lobby to the council chambers had a great deal more guards than when I last visited. What had been a two-guard post had since become a thirty. Talon and I were stopped multiple times by guards, who were just a few feet from one another, meaning that for every seven or eight steps we had to repeat the same thing… over… and over… and over… and over…
‘Why yes, I am Marshal Astor. No, I did not kill him and steal his clothes.’
Perhaps I should become an assassin; that way, all the constant suspicion from nameless guards would be warranted!
While walking, I risked a glance in the direction of the secretary’s desk, but upon looking over, I saw that it was completely empty. I suppose dead griffons don’t have much need for beautiful secretaries…
When we finally reached the door, Talon spoke aloud, “Well, sir, I should be going.” My subordinate took a few steps back and bumped into one of the many guards. He apologized to the griffon, but the nameless soldier just shrugged and acted like nothing had happened at all. “I wish you luck, sir.”
“Yeah, let’s hope that nobody gets assassinated again.” In response to my words, one of the guards shot me an angry glare. Well, I think it was angry; I wasn’t really sure since he was wearing a helmet.
In response, I shrugged, snapped for the soldier standing at the door to open it, and entered unto the council chambers once again.
“… Well yer nothin’ but an ignorant banker! You money-pinching Asgardian!” shouted a white robed, dark red griffon in a gruff, unbecoming voice. He was seated next to a small number of other griffons in similar garb.
Looking around the table, I saw that there were far more empty seats than few filled ones. As I looked between the separate groups, I tried to remember which colors represented which city. The dark-red griffon wore the colors of Rivan, a city known for its mighty defenses. The griffon he was yelling at wore the green color of Asgard, the foremost capital of wealth in the Union. Seated at the end of the table sat a pitifully small amount of yellow-clad representatives, meaning that they were from the mining city of Shatterholm. And, seated in the center of the table, closest to the late chancellor’s chair, sat the representatives of Gryphus in their blue robes.
The seats of the Highrock and Wintertop representatives, however, were completely and utterly empty.
“Come now, Gort!” declared an Asgardian representative. “You can’t expect our city to pay for your expenses! It is not our duty.”
“Hah! It’ll be a shame when the 1st Highrockian Regimental passes by Rivan on their way to raid Asgard, and we won’t be able to do nothin’ about it!” Gort gave a small shrug and then added onto his statement, “I shan’t be losin’ a tear on you though, Trist…”
“Representative Gort!” cried the Asgardian, “There is no evidence to support the claims that Highrock has betrayed the Union! While Wintertop has fallen to the former Lord Marshal, the betrayal of Highrock is nothing more than rumors and speculation!”
Gort snorted and then spit in the direction of Trist. “You feather-brained, egg-fondling, ugly pigeo-”
“Enough!” shouted an elderly council member wearing the colors of Gryphus. “I have heard enough of your senseless dribble,” he shifted his eyes away from the two representatives and onto me, “and so has Marshal Astor.”
There was a low murmur at the announcement of my arrival, and I could almost feel the tension building within the room as representatives fixed their attention upon me. I wasn’t exactly sure of myself as I took a few steps in the direction of the table, but as I approached, the murmurs and tension were broken by the heavy baritone of Representative Gort.
“Marshal Astor, it’s a pleasure to see ya!” he declared, followed by a sly smile coming across his beak. “I may be a retired soldier myself, but don’t think that I haven’t forgotten what it means to be one! It was fine work you did in maintaining order! That was some topnotch soldierin’!”
“Indeed,” chimed in the more elegant and refined voice of Representative Trist. “It is good that such competence can be maintained in the face of such a trying time.”
Gort let out an indignant snort. “Hah! I find it amusing when the ignorant speak of competence!” he declared and then started to gesture towards the Asgardian. “Perhaps you’d be willing to tell Representative Trist just how little he has to gain if his precious coin was in his banks while they are ablaze!”
The Asgardian was about to respond but before he could speak, he was interrupted once again. “Representative Gort!” shouted the Gryphus member of the Council. “If you continue to behave in such a way, I will have you escorted out, and you shall receive nothing from both the cities of Asgard and Gryphus!”
The red griffon gave him a spiteful glare, but eventually nodded his head in agreement. “Fine then, Val, we’ll have it yer way.”
“Indeed,” chimed in Trist, “we are not here to discuss matters of finance; we are here to bring the Union back together after the tragedy of the late Chancellor Vrees.”
“Is that what you’ve called me for?” I asked, finally speaking after a long session of waiting. “I thought that the inquisitor had been detailed enough to where a second round of questions would not be needed.
“By the Spirit of Mercy, no!” declared Gort, “I’d not have a griffon of yer prestige spend another second in the same room as a dreary old inquisitor! Besides, we’ve questioned all the witnesses to the event.”
“Well, all but one…” said Representative Trist, shifting his gaze from Gort back to Val and then over to me.
“And who would that be?” I asked.
“The secretary,” answered Val. “There were some… complications with bringing her in.”
“What kind of complications, if I may ask?”
Val reached over and grabbed a stack of papers out of the corner of his desk. He started to go through the stack; papers that weren’t related to what he wanted were quickly thrown aside. After a few moments of this, he gave it to a nearby page and then gestured in my direction, having the young griffon quickly dash over to me.
“Please, read the report for yourself… it’s rather fascinating.”
***
***
…Three Days Prior…
The streets furthest from the Citadel suffered the brunt of the turmoil brought about by the death of the people’s beloved chancellor. How the news had spread so quickly was a complete and total mystery, but after current matters were settled, the knights of the Inquisition would look into it.
In the middle of one of the rioting streets strode three such knights, clad in the white metal armor and red capes associated with their station. One of the three wore a golden band across his brow, signifying that he was an officer, while the other two wore helmets that covered their entire heads. Each of the griffons were armed with short-swords, which rested within sheaths tied to their belts
“Out of the way, commoner!” yelled one of the faceless knights, shoving an elderly female griffon off to the side of the street. At this blatant show of force, the other civilians still in the street quickly retreated onto the side of the road; for even in such a terrible time, it is common knowledge that one does not interfere with the business of the Inquisition.
The three knights fanned out once they reached a humble house situated on the corner of the street. The officer looked up at the building’s balcony and then gave a sharp gesture to one of his companions. The griffon answered the gesture with a nod, opened his wings, and flew to the top of the building.
Once the knight was in position, the officer motioned for the other griffon to approach the door. The griffon did so, and once there he turned around and gave the wooden entrance a solid kick, sending the door flying back into the house.
The officer and his remaining companion entered the building in short order. Once inside, they searched all of the rooms on the bottom floor to ensure that there were no surprises waiting for them.
“Anything?” asked the officer.
“No sir, all the rooms are clea…” A slight tapping sound began to emanate from the building’s second floor, causing the knight to cut his sentence short.
The two shared a quick glance and then darted up the stairs. On the second floor there was only one hallway leading to a single room. The walls of the hall were covered with pictures of family and friends, all perfectly in place despite a generous coating of dust.
The officer’s companion jumped forward at full speed and slammed his shoulder against the door, causing it to break free of its hinges and come down to the floor along with a number of the nearby pictures. Once the barrier was gone, the two knights walked into the room.
The room within was furnished modestly and was painted in a calm, soothing shade of green. It was hard to tell what the room’s exact purpose was due to the lack of any defining characteristics besides a thin glass door that let out to the balcony.
Wedged into the room’s corner was a large wooden rocking chair, and sitting in it was the late chancellor’s secretary, Aya.
Aya glanced over towards the two griffons with an amused expression. “You could have just knocked…” she said, smiling the whole while. “I am, after all, a most generous hostess.” She stood up and started to walk over towards the balcony.
“Don’t even think about it!” declared the knight, drawing his short-sword from his belt.
She gave the knight a look of unpleasant surprise but showed not the slightest bit of fear at the sudden threat. “Calm yourself. I merely wish to admire the view of the cit…”
Suddenly, a sound came down from the roof, causing Aya to look up. She chuckled a bit while shrugging her shoulders. “Must have been pigeons… blasted things get everywhere…”
The officer and his companion exchanged an unsure glance with one another and then returned their attention to the strange griffon before them. “Ma’am,” stated the officer, “by order of the Council, you are to come with us.”
Aya rested her head upon her shoulder and let out a soft moan that was a mixture of both amusement and disagreement. “I’m afraid that’s all but impossible.” She turned around and fully faced her two guests. “You see… I already have several engagements that I simply must attend to. Really, I should have been gone a few hours ago...”
The officer squinted his eyes and leaned forward a bit. “Then why are you still here?”
An amused grin came across her beak. “Why? I was waiting for you, of course.”
“And how did you know we were coming?”
She let out a pearl of laughter as she answered his question. “Well, one does not give the leader of a country a poisoned drink without expecting company.”
The officer’s eyes went wide, and his talon came down to rest on the hilt of his sword. “You knew that the drink was poisoned?!”
“I don’t see how I couldn’t have,” she chirped. “After all, I am the one who put the poison in.” She stared at the officer, still smiling, and waited for him to react.
“Traitor!” cried the knight as he waved his sword about. “I’ve had enough of your banter, criminal scum!” The officer’s companion strode a few paces forward before he stopped dead in his tracks and simply stared at Aya through the slits in his helmet.
Aya’s eyes glowed a bright, vibrant green and were locked onto the knight’s eyes. Her demeanor suddenly changed as the smile disappeared from her break. “Traitor?” she asked in an innocent tone. “Who is this traitor you speak of?” As she asked her second question the entranced knight started to shake violently.
The officer looked on with confusion before finally calling out to his companion, “Ser Lern! What are you doing?! She has confessed! Arrest her immed-”
“Be silent Wintertop filth!” cried the knight, turning around to face the officer. “I’m done listening to your traitorous tongue!” He looked down and stared at his sword for a moment with a surprised look in his eyes, as if he had just discovered it. “I think I’ll cut it out…”
The officer was caught off-guard by his subordinate’s words and was about to respond, but the knight pounced upon him before he could say another word.
There was a flurry of violence and the room was enveloped by the knight’s bloodcurdling battle cry as he hacked at the officer with his sword. The fight was over shortly, leaving only the now blood-soaked knight to stand in the room with Aya.
He shook once more and started to look around, as if he had no idea where he was… and then he saw the bloody mess that he had created just moments before. “I-I-I… what have I done?!” stammered the knight as he backed away from the corpse of his commander.
“It’ll be okay,” said a smooth, reassuring voice.
“What?!” cried the knight, turning around to find the female griffon within arm’s reach.
“You won’t have to worry about it much longer.” She brought up both talons and took off the knight’s helm, revealing a face contorted with confusion and covered in tears. “Don’t cry, it’ll be over soon,” she said, brushing her talons against his checks in a soothing manner.
The knight seemed to be comforted by it for a short while, looking down to the floor as he continued to cry. “Wait…” he said, looking back up to look directly into Aya’s face, causing his eyes to become wide with realization. “You’re the traito-”
His words were cut short as the comforting talons brushing against his feathers suddenly grabbed hold of his head and twisted to the right, breaking his neck. The knight’s body went limp and fell to the floor just before Aya’s feet. She let out a sigh and then went over to the balcony door.
She opened the glass door and called out into the open air, “I know that you’re there… little pigeon.” Aya stepped out onto the balcony and looked up into the sky. “If you wish to share the fate of your comrades, please come down so that we may be done with it,” she paused. “But I think you’re more intelligent than that. So go little pigeon, send word to your masters and I shall send word to mine…”
For a moment, nothing happened. Aya shifted her weight to her right side and let out a frustrated sigh. “Hurry now, pigeon, before I change my mind.” she said with the slightest hint of anger.
The sound of talons scratching against the roof could be heard as the third knight ran forward, gaining momentum for flight. As he jumped from the building, he could see Aya standing on the balcony, smiling at him as he flew towards the Citadel.
***
***
“Well, needless to say, that wasn’t what I expected,” I declared, returning the report back to the page that brought it over to me.
“Indeed,” chimed in Trist. “We are all surprised to see that Vrees’ trusted secretary was in league with the traitor, Sora.”
“And how do you know they were working together?” I asked.
“Despite her obvious skill in avoiding capture, I doubt that a griffon, no matter how skilled, would wish to risk such a task unless they were under the protection of a griffon as powerful as Lord Marshal Sora was.”
“Yeah… no matter how skilled,” I said, repeating the only part of his sentence that I cared about. “It almost seems like she was using…”
“Magic,” stated Gort, finishing my sentence.
“But that’s impossible!” cried Representative Trist. “No griffon has the ability to use the arcane arts. There is no simpler truth!”
“So you mean to tell us that two of the Inquisition’s finest were slain by a common secretary!?” Gort shouted across the table. “I agree that both sound absolutely ludicrous, but I have more faith in our knights than to believe that they would be defeated so easily without the odds being against them!”
“And where is the inquisitor that made this report?” I asked, coming a bit closer to the seated assembly.
“At the request of Representative Trist, he is currently being held at the House of Questions,” answered Val. “They are seeing if he is indeed telling the truth. However,” he waved a talon in the air, as if he was dismissing the issue entirely, “you are not here to concern yourself with matters of the Inquisition, Marshal Astor.”
“Indeed,” Trist chimed.
Gort merely gave a confirming grunt.
“If it is the Council’s will to tell me why I am here… before the Council… I would very much like to know,” I said, bowing my head and bending my front legs in a bowing gesture.
“I will not waste time trying to make things sound less dire than they are,” Val announced in a somber tone, his words echoing through the cavernous room. “The Union is in ruin and there is little we can do to fix it.” He started to tap upon the table with one of his talons. “Many believe that swearing in a new chancellor would alleviate our worries,” he took a moment to look over at Gort, “but chancellors must be elected by all of the clans… and as you can see, not all of the clans are present. Should we elect a new chancellor at such a time, it would be a scandal that could make things far worse…”
“However…” interrupted Trist. The Asgardian representative had a knowing smile strewn across his face and seemed to have an air of confidence about him.
Val gave Trist a blank stare but quickly continued, “However, the election of a Lord Marshal has always been the word of the majority and not the whole of the clans…”
I don’t like where this was going. I don’t like it one bit. I thought to myself as I started to realize why I was brought here.
“And while we do not have all the clans, we certainly do have a majority.” Val looked along the table at each and every one of the various representatives. “Should each of the clans present vote unanimously on a nominated candidate, there will be no controversy.” He looked over towards Representative Trist and gave a small smile of his own. “Do any clans have a candidate they would like to present before the Council?”
Trist let out a small cough, stood up and straightened his back. “The Asgardian Clan would like to put forward Marshal Astor as a candidate for Lord Marshal of the Council.”
Why…
“The Clan of Gryphus supports this nomination,” said Val. “And what of Shatterholm?” The yellow-clad representatives nodded in confirmation, and then Val turned his attention towards Gort. “Rivan’s stance?”
Gort let out a stream of gruff laughter but restored a somber tone as he spoke, “Rivan stands beside the new Lord Marshal!”
“That settles it.” Val turned his attention and nodded his head.
“A cheer for Lord Marshal Astor!” cried Gort, and was quickly followed by the cheers of his fellow representatives.
Once the cheering ceased, Val addressed the entire assembly in a loud, authoritative voice, “It is good that this matter has been settled! The Council will now go into recess until…” he exchanged a short conversation with one of his pages before completing his declaration, “dawn.”
The representatives all stood and started to walk out of the chambers, murmuring to one another. Gort, on his way to the door, gave me a hard slap on the back as he passed and gave me several words of encouragement… which I promptly ignored...
Eventually, the room emptied, leaving only me, Val, and one of his underlings. Val saw me standing there and quickly told his page to go elsewhere. Once the page was gone, the Gryphus representative came over and bowed his head to me.
“I congratulate you on your promotion, Lord Marshal Astor,” he said, spreading his wings in a humbling gesture while bringing his head back up.
“I don’t want it…” I whispered, giving the older griffon a hard stare.
Surprisingly, Val didn’t flinch, not even a little bit. He simply retracted his wings and returned my stare with a small smirk. “I know you don’t.”
“Why then?! Why would you do this if you knew I didn’t want it!” I hissed, barely able to contain my frustration.
“Because, Lord Marshal, it does not matter what you want.” he said, coming so close that I could smell the rich, fruity scent that came from his undoubtedly expensive cleaning supplies.
“What?”
He leaned even closer. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Astor,” he stated in a threatening whisper. “Only a clawful of Marshals remain loyal to the Council, and a very few number of them are in the position they are because of merit.” He backed away a bit and gave me a cold stare. “You will be the new Lord Marshal, Astor. You have no choice in the matter. And should you, for some reason, make this more difficult than it has to be,” his eyes narrowed as he gave an idle flick of the wrist, “I will destroy you… understood?”
I lowered my head in defeat. I had not spent my time in the Citadel building up a political web of influence like Val obviously had… his threat was simple and powerful. I knew that he could indeed make my life, and that of my family, a living nightmare.
“I understand,” I retorted, holding back my frustration. “There’s just one thing…”
“And what would that be?” he said, cocking an eyebrow.
“You’ve just made my wife a very unhappy woman.”
He let out a laugh, but his serious demeanor returned in short order. “Lord Marshal Astor, I daresay that by the time I am finished patching the Union back together, your wife shall be in good company with many other unhappy women…”
“And you’re fine with that?”
He shrugged. “No, but it must be done,” Val said sadly. “Although, I won’t be doing it alone… you’ll be right there with me, at the very tip of it all…”
Author's Notes:
Hey there! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter and didn't find it too boring or cheesy. Now, to those of you who are saying: "WTH, Zong! It says that Gilda is going to be in this right there under the chapters! Why you lie?!"
Well, I hope that I can satisfy you with the promise that there will be at least 37.8% more Gilda in the next chapter!
Big thanks to:
Book Smart
And
Meeester
for reviewing and editing the story :D
Hope you enjoyed the story, and if you like my style of writing I'd appreciate it if you checked out my other stories too... or just comment, commenting is just as good.
