Author's Note

Moving right along, here’s the second part in what’s turning into a three-chapter mini-arc. There is no sex here, but some mildly suggestive content involving hints of wingplay and an aide to the Tribune who might have certain proclivities. That’s hardly the emphasis, though, and I’ll keep it simple regarding background music. Battles of wits are no less epic or worthy of music than physical ones:

ECHELON | Most Epic Hybrid Battle Music | 1-Hour Epic Music Mix

As always, I thank my eager prereading crew of Silentwoodfire, AJ_Aficionado, ASF, Wechsel and Silverblade5. They liked it, so hopefully you will as will. Have at it just as soon as I post the standard boilerplate:

This chapter is brand new content, taking place after chapter 9 of the original story. You are not only invited but strongly encouraged to check out the original Feathered Heart if you haven’t already, as it inspired many of my own works.

—Firesight

34: Gilda vs Cipio

Ten minutes later, following some clipped closing remarks from the Tribune where he dismissed his honor guard and ordered his senior staff to coordinate a search of the city for additional Cloven-infected hosts, he sat opposite Gilda in the Queen’s personal meeting room—to her surprise, it appeared to be only that, given there wasn’t a bed or any form of erotic artwork to be seen—at the far end of a long, low table lined with seats and cushions.

The ones on her side were taken up by Giraldi, Fortrakt, Imlay, and Miles Fortuna, while a single seat next to the Tribune held an unhappy Optio Virgo, who stood poised with quill and parchment to write down orders or otherwise take the minutes of the meeting. He was further backed by a rather striking leopard-spotted Magus eagless and a pair of heavily armed bodyguards, with two battle-scarred earth griffon Paladin tiercels posted behind the Tribune whose scratched and scorched forms indicated they had already seen considerable action.

They might have been more intimidating had the Senior Scimitar not stationed two equally bloodied and only half-healed Ravens at the opposite end of the room, who had declined further treatment until their more gravely wounded comrades were tended. Obsidian Ire and Karin Kazal were present as well, though the drakina stood against the back wall with her wings folded, glaring at the Tribune over crossed arms.

But he ignored her and the Starshina who stood watch over the room from a corner to glower at Gilda instead, saying nothing, with the two sides of the standoff separated by a quartet of sleek black-armored Changeling Guard drones with colorless pupils—their ‘Silencers’? —who stood impassive but had already announced they had orders from their Queen to prevent any physical altercations.

Gilda had no intention of testing them or causing one if she could help it, but she couldn’t speak for the Tribune, given it was clear to her from his stance alone that he was in no mood for concessions or to partake of Queen Lepidoptes’ hospitality. Though the Changeling monarch had told them that good food and drink were available in the cabinet, they had made no move to find them, glaring at each other for the better part of a minute before Gilda finally spoke.

“Enough, Tribune. Since it’s dumb and dweeby to just sit here and stare, let’s get down to business. Your aide said you wanted to debrief me? Well, here’s your chance,” she told him in Equish so Imlay would understand her, wishing Marco was there. He wanted to come, but Imlay had told him no, saying he didn’t trust him not to make an already tense situation worse.

Probably just as well, Gilda silently granted, placating Marco by asking him to check on Chris and Tara instead. Her thoughts lingered on him only briefly as she gathered up the sheaf of talon-written documents her underlings had produced, stacking and aligning them by banging their lower edge on the table a few times. “These are our battle reports. For all that we went through and for as much as we learned about Cloven and human capabilities, I suggest you read them carefully.” She slid them across the table to him.

In response, he tore them in two without looking at them, his green-eyed gaze never leaving hers. “You did this to my orders, so I’ll do it to your reports,” he informed her in Equish as her beak clenched; she could only imagine what Fortrakt and the others were thinking to see several hours of painstaking work and cramping talons dismissed. “If you want respect and for me to listen to you, Behertz, you can start by knowing your place and obeying me as you’re supposed to.”

“And so we did,” she told him with a low trill through a clenched beak, her curled talons dragging across the chitin-covered table hard enough to make noise and leave furrows in the organic material. “Because we had no choice and no other way to reach Aricia. But make no mistake, Tribune—if I had any option other than staying at that crow-begotten Lake defending what wasn’t an abandoned Changeling hive, I would have taken it regardless of your instructions.”

To her surprise, he grinned. “So in other words, you openly admit that you would refuse to follow the orders of your superiors?” He glanced at his still-anxious eagless aide, who immediately wrote something down. “That does not speak well for you or the command chain you shouldn’t be wearing, Behertz. You swore an oath to Queen and Kingdom that you would obey lawful orders—including mine! And this is not obeying them!” He slammed the remains of her missives down on the table in disgust, crumpling them up before her.

She wasn’t impressed, meeting his glare evenly. “Yes. That was the oath I swore—not the humans! You risked them without any regard to their importance or the fact that they do not serve the Kingdom!” she fired back, feeling her already-intense ire rise further along with the pink gathering at the edges of her vision.

His eyes narrowed at her tone. As she watched, he glanced over at an impassive Imlay, who remained standing behind her with his rifle held ready, leaving her wondering if he ever relaxed or slept. “Irrelevant. I serve the Kingdom, as do you! And if I think its interests are served by risking them, then I will do so without hesitation. We are at war, Centurion, and with the survival of our very race at stake, I do not care about diplomatic niceties! And neither should you!”

“Crows take it! You think this is about niceties?” she snarled at him, her wings flaring in anger hard enough that they brushed against Fortrakt’s in the cramped confines of the Queen’s meeting room, who she could feel flinch slightly at the unexpected contact.

But even though she glanced at him and saw him flushed—she couldn’t tell if it was more due to anger or embarrassment—she didn’t pull away, letting him do so instead; he moved fractionally backwards to where they could flare their wings without accidentally touching. “By the Ancestors themselves, do you not understand that you gambled the entire Kingdom by endangering the humans?”

Though his aide blushed to see it, fumbling her quill for a moment, the Tribune just smirked briefly and rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. I wagered a decade and a half of human lives against an entire Cloven army, including the massive factory that replenished them and the Overlord who controlled them—a more than reasonable trade!” he told her angrily.

“It was a great victory when we sorely needed one, slowing the Cloven advance and buying the Kingdom time to redeploy forces from the Ibexian border! I would be more than happy to give you and your soldiers due credit in my report to the Queen, were it not for your insubordinate conduct and the crow-damned fit you’re throwing.”

“A ‘fit’?” Gilda leaned over the table to glare at him, feeling her wings flare further with their outer edges curved forward in ire. “A ‘fit’ does not even begin to describe my feelings on this matter, Tribune! You should have evacuated us the moment you learned our location! It was well within reach of the city walls and could have been done in under an hour!” she informed him angrily, talking right over him when he looked like he wanted to snarl a reply.

“Shut up and listen!” she said vehemently as his beak began to open, causing him to flinch like he’d been slapped; she guessed he’d never been talked back to like this since making Tribune. “If the Cloven wanted the humans that badly, you could have induced them to attack the well-guarded walls of the city itself defended by human weapons, which could have had the same result at far less risk or loss of life! And with the Changelings of Queen Lepidoptes out there providing us intelligence on enemy activity, we could have easily planned our own offensive operations to take out the Cloven factory and Overlord!”

Either due to her insubordinate attitude or what he thought was her mistaken reasoning, the Tribune’s anger only grew, causing his wings to flare hard and suddenly enough that they brushed sharply against his aide’s. The contact caused them both to jerk back slightly, exchanging a furtive glance of their own as the aide sidled further away, her blush deepening. “You are a recently promoted Centurion who is neither a strategist nor aware of the greater situation the Kingdom faces. So kindly spare me the lecture on military affairs, Centurion.”

Gilda exchanged an angry look with Fortrakt, whose own wings she saw were partially flared a half a body length behind her, looking like he was only barely restraining himself from jumping into the conversation headfirst. “I got us this far, moving my unit twenty leagues through hostile territory, commanding up to two centuries of mixed forces through at least six separate battles. I fought and led from the forefront, so spare me any lecture on my inexperience or lack of military sense, Tribune!”

“She speaks true,” Giraldi confirmed calmly; she noted that he alone seemed serene, sitting with his wings relaxed. “It is as I told you outside, sir. She led us, not me. And did so superbly.”

“She did,” Imlay finally spoke. “For getting us to safety and risking her life repeatedly, she has the respect and loyalty of my Marines, Tribune. We’d gladly have her as our commander from here on out.”

“As would I,” Obsidian Ire added from where she was leaning against a wall in back with her arms crossed over her chest, her wounds healing beneath patches of chitin while still wearing her battered armor. “The Centurion commanded my clan sisters well and even rescued us when we initially disobeyed her. For saving our lives and proving as able with her wits as her blades, she more than earned our respect, Tribune Cipio. But for such a major error in judgment regarding the humans, I am having severe reservations about ever obeying your orders again.”

That earned a stare from the Tribune. “You swore an oath to aid the Kingdom, drakina, in exchange for the future liberation of your lands. As I am the military commander of this district, that means you obey me.”

“I swore no oath to you, nor would I,” the tall dragon female retorted. “My loyalty lies with those who will help bring that liberation about. And currently, that does not include you.”

Tribune Cipio stood up. “Then we will duel for that loyalty, and the terms of my victory will be your obedience to my orders!”

Obsidian Ire lowered her head and inhaled hard to make the gaps between her chest scales glow bright, earning an alarmed look from the Paladins and magus behind him, the latter of which raised her staff to cast a spell. “And when I win, you will surrender your command to her!” she pointed at Gilda, who wasn’t sure if she was more honored or panicked by the prospect, holding up her wings to symbolically form a barrier between them.

“By order of Queen Lepidoptes, there will be no fighting here,” one of the drones reminded them, speaking in a sharp female voice. “This includes declared duels. If you insist on having them, you must leave this ship.”

“Stand down, all of you,” Gilda instructed in strained tones. “You honor me with your trust and confidence, Obsidian Ire. But for as much as I might like to see his face ground into the dirt, I’m not ready for that level of leadership,” she admitted, to which the dragon female stepped back with a parting glower, allowing the air in her lungs to cool. “I know the Tribune’s quality as a commander. We need him, but only if he can acknowledge his mistakes, both as a military leader and as a diplomat!”

“I made none, on either front. But you have decided to deliberately undermine my authority, and for what, Behertz?” Tribune Cipio leaned over the table again. “Perhaps because you are physically involved with a human? And were only stopped from having sex with him again because the war broke out?” he suggested in contempt, earning a shocked look at the news from his eagless aide and a far more disgusted one from the two male Paladins behind him.

He grinned evilly when Gilda’s cheeks went red and her wings flared in full fury, their leading edges arched forward to point their tips directly at him. She felt the pink in her vision growing along with her rage, only able to restrain it by reminding herself repeatedly that to give into the Tribune’s provocations was to play right into his wings.

But it wasn’t easy as Cipio recognized that he’d found a sensitive spot and twisted his talons in deeper. “Yes, I was told about your indiscretions with the human named Marco Lakan by our superiors in Arnau. But even if I find the idea of laying with an alien ape appalling, it does not affect my judgment regarding you. But as you were reeking of stale sex and human spoor even in the receiving line, it is clearly affecting yours!”

The wide-eyed aide fumbled her quill again as her beak dropped open and talons began to shake. But Gilda barely noticed; her vision turned bright pink as her temper flared into white-hot fury. Her feathers ruffled hard and a roar built deep in her belly; for a single terrifying moment she felt certain she was going to completely lose control; upend the table and launch herself at him regardless of the Silencers eyeing her warily or the consequences she would incur after.

She knew that he was trying to incite her into making a fatal mistake. She knew that attacking him outside of a declared duel would result in her arrest and automatically forfeiting her rank and chain regardless of her prior standing, followed by imprisonment or even potential execution. But in that moment, she didn’t care, willing to do whatever was necessary to answer the slander of her mate and protect her human friends.

But before she could take the final, fateful leap, she felt a strangely soothing mental pressure and a set of restraining talons against her lower back. It was quickly followed by a magical touch against her foretalons that made them flex, not in anger but in sensual memory.

The former belonged to Fortrakt, she instantly sensed without even looking back, with her onetime junior partner once again trying to keep his head on behalf of both of them, acting to save her from herself. The latter she recognized as Karin Kazal’s, even though a glance at the mirror to the side showed his horns were not aglow. Despite that, his aura gently caressed her digits, trying to calm her.

Not willing to give the Starshina’s actions away, she glanced back at Fortrakt instead. He met her gaze evenly, letting her see the anger and worry in his eyes. “Don’t let him goad you, Gilda,” he told her gently, starting to rub her back near the base of her tail in an action she would not only have never allowed not long before, but probably slammed him through the nearest breakable surface for taking such a liberty with her. “You’re a much better and more honorable griffon than that, even if he isn’t.” To her surprise and no little amazement, he deliberately insulted the Tribune.

Cipio stared at him in disbelief while the Paladins behind him were watching through narrowed eyes. “Is everycreature in this room insubordinate and insane?”

“No, sir. Just you for risking the humans,” Fortrakt turned back to him, earning an impressed look from Gilda.

“How dare you—” The Tribune stood up again, earning a warning gaze from the Silencers.

“He speaks for me as well. Your words are an affront to not just the Centurion, but all of us, Tribune Cipio,” Giraldi said in an unusually quiet and emotionless tone, which gave Gilda a strong feeling of severe anger.

“Every Guardsgriffon you see before you has laid with an ‘alien ape’, and none of us regret it in the least. As I do not wish to see the Centurion sacrifice her honor and the favor of Queen Lepidoptes to answer that affront, I will stand in her stead and offer a duel. But as I also do not wish to violate the Queen’s rules, would you care to step outside the airship, sir?” He stood up and walked halfway towards the Tribune, his head lowered and war hammer displayed.

“Me too!” To Gilda’s surprise, Obsidian Ire stepped up and put a set of talons against the back of her neck. “I didn’t know she was rutting that brown-skinned human, but I can’t say I really care, either. Though I have no interest in them myself, they are certainly warriors worthy of respect for their powerful weapons and their willingness to risk themselves alongside us. But as you have offered them none, Tribune, I will be more than happy to duel you outside on the Centurion’s behalf, if the Optio proves too little a challenge.” She puffed some violet smoke into the air.

Gilda felt her cheeks warm again, this time at the loyalty of her comrades. “Thank you, Obsidian Ire. Thanks, all of you. You honor me greatly, and I won’t forget it. But nocreature fights my battles for me. And besides, I don’t want to duel or relieve him of duty—I want him to see reason. So please step back, Optio,” Gilda requested, finding she could suddenly control her temper at the reminder that she was not alone and her friends stood with her.

Huh. And who would have thought that the ponies were right about all their dweeby ‘friendship’ trash? She suppressed a smile, as well as a sudden flashback to the image of a griffon eagless being groped by multiple sets of dragon talons to feel those of the drakina on her. And Archon Archex said that really happened? Where? How? And to whom? She almost desperately wanted to know.

“I see. Whether now or later, I am more than willing to meet your challenges. So tell me, do you agree with all this, human?” Tribune Cipio addressed Imlay next.

“I have a name, and it’s Corporal Michael Imlay, sir.” For the first time, Gilda thought she might have heard an element of anger in his voice, directed at someone other than Marco. “I’m not an officer, but I do agree. It’s clear from listening to you that you don’t know what we can do and just why the Cloven want us so badly. Meaning you’re liable to get us killed and corrupted through sheer ignorance, which could cost the Kingdom dearly,” he said calmly, his eyes unreadable behind his goggles.

“And as for the Centurion and Marco Lakan, what she does on her own time is her business, and his. Yes, we know about them and we don’t care. He’s a good kid, even if he sometimes has a big mouth and a bad attitude. He fought alongside us effectively and without hesitation, so I’m not about to call him a coward, either.”

“Thank you, Corporal.” Gilda bared her throat back to him. A big mouth and a bad attitude… she then echoed with her thoughts. So do I! I wonder if that’s where my attraction to him comes from? she asked herself idly before putting it aside, nodding at Fortrakt to indicate he could let her go before nodding in turn up at Obsidian Ire, who removed her talons and stepped back. Seeing that, Karin Kazal withdrew his aura from her foretalons as well.

She found herself given pause, strangely aware of the sudden lack of their physical and magical touch against her, and even at least slightly bereft of their affection. But as surprised as she was to feel any form of touchy-feely after a lifetime of hating the very idea of it, she set it aside and focused her attention back on the Tribune again.

“I do hope that you note where their loyalties lie, Tribune. And the reason is that since they were there, they know I’m right. Corporal Imlay is absolutely correct—you don’t understand what the humans can do! So I’m once again telling you to your face that to risk them like that was a grave and potentially fatal mistake for not just Aricia, but the entire crow-damned Kingdom!” She leaned over the table to spit out the words, then took a deep breath to try to restrain the still-present pink at the edges of her vision, fearful it would yet induce her to attack him if she wasn’t careful.

“Spare me. The only fatal mistake I see here is yours in challenging me, Behertz,” he growled back. “Are you quite through burying yourself and your career, yet?”

Mastering her emotions again before replying, she deliberately sat down and leaned back enough to clasp her talons before her while propping her elbows on the table. “Not even close, sir. And the only career in danger here is yours. If you’re unable to admit to that error, then I’ll just have to make sure that you can’t ever issue such orders again. As such, by the power and authority granted to me by our Queen and now-Legate Narada in Arnau, I am keeping the humans under my direct command. As such, you may not use them in any operations without my explicit approval.”

His feathers ruffled and talons clenched hard against the table. “Your authority only lasts as long as you have that crow-damned chain, Centurion. And I have already contacted Arnau to demand that it be removed.”

She gave him a sneering smile back. “But that demand was clearly not granted, or else you would have come here ordering my arrest,” she instantly recognized, causing his cheeks to go red and Fortrakt to smile as Giraldi nodded slowly in agreement. “In fact, given that you showed up here exactly as I ordered, you were told to obey me, weren’t you?” She curled her foretalons like she was digging them in deeper.

He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, and this time, she could tell that it was the Tribune who was having trouble holding onto his temper. “I was instructed to hear you out and then make a report back after meeting Queen Lepidoptes. And thus far, that report is going to be quite scathing.”

“As will mine to Queen Molyneux,” Gilda said easily, gratified to feel herself relaxing and her own temper cooling as she sensed herself getting the upper wing in the exchange. You can tear up our reports if you want, but that doesn’t mean she and her military advisors won’t get their own copies. I’m sure she will be quite interested to know how you treated alien soldiers as expendable pawns and discounted the deadliness of their arms. To say nothing of how you insulted not one, but two badly needed allies essential for the Kingdom’s survival,” she suggested coldly.

“To which I will tell her that the humans make excellent distractions for the Cloven, given their outsized awe of a few cannon-equipped soldiers. I’m also sure that she will be equally interested to know how you insulted and derided the commander who gave the Kingdom its most crucial and crushing victory thus far,” he responded instantly. “A victory that has stabilized the front in the Western Territory and bought our armies the time they need to regroup and mobilize. And if the cost of that was a few dead aliens or some of their single-shot soldier ballistae in the claws of the Cloven, then so be it.”

Gilda stared at him in disbelief as Fortrakt’s jaw dropped open and Imlay rubbed his eyes.

“With due respect, our ‘cannons’ are not single shot, sir,” the Marine Corporal told him, hefting his rifle from where he stood with it, tapping the curved metal protuberance beneath it.

“This magazine, or ‘quiver’ as I have heard other griffons refer to them, holds thirty bullets. They’re not cannonballs, they’re pointed metal accelerated to incredible speeds that are very accurate and lethal. It can not only far outrange most of your crossbows, but my weapon, called a ‘rifle’, is repeating—in its fastest fire mode, it can launch all thirty bullets in two secondsif I choose,” he told them to looks of disbelief from not just the Tribune, but the Paladin sentries behind him.

“That is not possible.” Cipio eyed the strange weapon warily while the Magus behind her fractionally raised her stave again; Gilda suddenly wondered if the Tribune was thinking, as she was, that at such an impossible output, Imlay’s single rifle could kill everycreature on his side of the room in mere moments.

“Be assured that it is, sir. By the Centurion’s command, we have a demonstration ready for you. And since I have permission from my superiors to explain our weapon capabilities, I will do so: Each shot from our rifles can kill at a distance of a quarter-league, meaning that had the Cloven captured us, we could have easily breached your defenses by sniping your soldiers from where you couldn’t fight back or find them, followed by using our heavier weapons to blow open a hole in the wall to allow the Cloven to flood in. All of which I would be more than happy to show you.”

“You exaggerate,” he said, though Gilda was gratified to hear an element of uncertainty in his voice. “Our walls do not so easily crumble to a few small cannonballs. And our new bowcasters could have easily slain you in that instance.”

“Even if they were shrouded from visual and magical sight by corrupted mages?” Karin Kazal asked in annoyance. He ignited his horn to hide Imlay from view for a moment, causing the Magus behind Cipio to raise her staff in warning, its end glowing. “A simple invisibility spell would suffice. Or perhaps I could simply teleport them from place to place to make sure you can’t pin them down, allowing them to continually kill your soldiers until they fear to defend the walls?” He zapped Imlay’s location to produce a flash, followed by two more in the room; one of which was behind the Tribune, causing his head to whip around.

“So where is he, Magus?” the smug Starshina asked the suddenly nervous eagless who pointed her stave to and fro, casting a spell on both locations to no visible effect. “In the time you take to find out, your commander could already be dead. So again I ask: is he in either place? Or neither?” He dropped the stealth spell to show that he hadn’t moved or even touched Imlay at all.

“By my Ancestors, I swear if you do that again…” the unnerved Magus began to threaten, to which Karin Kazal smirked and depowered his antlers.

“As much as I would enjoy a contest of aura, Magus, I am not about to do so here. The point, Tribune, is that I know exactly how I would employ the humans against the city using ibexian magic. And as the Cloven already corrupted far too many of my team, that means they have the knowledge and ability as well. Or did it never occur to you to wonder just why they wanted the humans so badly?”

When Cipio didn’t immediately reply, Gilda decided she’d finally shaken his confidence. Which means it’s time to press our advantage! “Corporal? Show him one of your rounds,” she ordered him, to which he hesitated only briefly.

“Yes, sir,” he finally obeyed, going for one of his spare quivers to pop a single round free just as Marco had, tossing it onto the table and letting it roll to a stop before Cipio. “That’s a round, or bullet. It’s what you would call our ‘cannonballs’,” he informed the Tribune. “And I can promise that it’s a lot more deadly than it looks.”

Cipio stared at it in disbelief, along with his shaking aide; a glance at her parchment showed that her writing was ragged and occasionally streaked with ink. “This tiny thing is dangerous? Our crossbow bolts are far bigger than that!”

“They don’t have to be big when their cannons can fire them through the air faster than the speed of sound,” Gilda told him, causing him to look up sharply. “No, I am not exaggerating, Tribune. At that velocity—that is the word, right?” she glanced back at Imlay to receive a nod— “its pointed tip can punch through all but Paladin armor and heavy Fortis Knight shields. And even then, they have special armor-piercing bullets that can get through those, too,” Gilda flashed back to Marco’s swapping his quiver out in a near panic, reloading his rifle with them when confronted with a charging corrupted Paladin his regular rounds had not stopped.

“In summary, sir, the humans and their weapons are the only reason we survived long enough to make it to the Lake,” Giraldi spoke up again, having sat back down to Gilda’s right and slightly in back of her. “They smashed no less than three Cloven attacks involving a combined six centuries of ground soldiers almost by themselves, and their heavier cannons proved effective against even the hardened Elder Ram forms I’m sure you’ve encountered,” he offered, to which the Tribune looked surprised and at least one of the Paladins grimaced.

“In summary, had they not been there, we would have been wiped out in the initial ambush and had no chance at all to make it to Aricia. And if that does not impress you, then perhaps simple numbers will: Their weapons were so powerful that the Cloven had to muster a full millennium of mixed pure and corrupt forms before they could hope to overrun our force of thirty griffons backed by a mere fourteen human Marines. And three human civilians who were also equipped with such arms,” he added as an afterthought.

“If you will not take her word for it, then take mine, Tribune,” Miles Fortuna stepped up for the first time. “We saw those weapons in action. Their range and rate of fire are incredible, as is the damage they inflict. Not even our repeaters compare. And if they fell into the hooves of the Cloven…”

“Then the Cloven would be almost unbeatable,” Karin Kazal finished for her from the corner he sat in, leaving Gilda wondering if he was staying there so he could keep watch over the entire room.

“By the Ancient Rams of the Rodina, your decisions risked the Ascendancy as well, Tribune. You may not care, but I do. For that reason, I will defend the humans—and the Kingdom—to the last, knowing that if they fall, my nation is next. And I will defend the Centurion for being smart enough to know that the humans must be protected at all costs.”

But the Tribune still seemed unconvinced, drumming his talons on the desk. “And your opinion of these fanciful claims, drakina?” He addressed Obsidian Ire next.

She regarded him coldly before speaking, giving Gilda the impression that making him wait for an answer was a measured form of disrespect. “Sorry if this disappoints you, but they are true, Tribune. I, too, saw the power of their weapons for myself and would likely not be here without them. In fact, it may interest you to know that I only went out there with my sisters to see just why the humans were so important to the Cloven,” she said simply.

“When we arrived, we were as skeptical as you to see their soft bodies and small cannons, believing they would quickly fall before a determined attack. Though we initially intended to do what damage we could to Cloven formations before fleeing and leaving the Centurion’s entire force to their fate—no offense, Grizelda Behertz,” she added with a glance at Gilda, who looked up sharply— “we quickly discovered two things:

“First, Cloven flyers were now quite capable of killing us when they couldn’t before, meaning that any attempt to escape by air would result in our deaths. And far more importantly, that human weapons could turn the tide of battle in favor of either side. Even a few of them could obliterate enemy soldiers almost as assuredly as the fire of a Dragon Lord. And just as our ibex friend here finally realized, that alone meant we could not let the Cloven have them, or all would be lost for both our races.”

She then turned to meet Gilda’s glare. “You have every right to be angry at me, Grizelda Behertz. But such was our plan. And had all been lost and our defeat seemed nigh, our final act before dying would have been to incinerate the human bodies and melt their weapons to deny the Cloven their prize. The only reason we didn’t when we were on the verge of being overrun was because the mental assault of that accursed Cloven Overlord prevented us from acting.”

Though Fortrakt looked as aghast as Gilda felt, Imlay could only nod thoughtfully. “Understood, ma’am. And I don’t hold it against you. I can safely speak for all my Marines when I say we’d rather die and have our bodies destroyed than be captured and turned against our friends.”

In response, Obsidian Ire bowed her head. “Thank you, Corporal Michael Imlay. And since I didn’t say so before, thank you for saving us when we were crippled with two of my sisters wounded. We couldn’t have made it back to the hill without human aid.” She extended her right arm towards him.

“My pleasure, ma’am. For what it’s worth, we were very impressed with you as well. In the end, you had our backs, and that’s all we ask.” He clasped her foreleg like a griffon, giving the tall female a respectful nod.

Gilda waited until they were finished before she addressed Cipio again. “Are you satisfied yet, Tribune?” she asked him pointedly. “Are you finally ready to admit that you were wrong? Or are you going to continue to act like a crow-damned fool who can’t accept what no less than three officers, a Raven commander, and several foreign soldiers are telling you?”

“Centurion…” Giraldi said softly as the Tribune’s eyes flashed again, the former holding up a wing before Gilda to forestall yet another explosion of temper from either side. “With apologies, sir, we are all short of sleep and have had too many close calls in the past day to give proper respect. All we really want is for you to see that you cannot so casually sacrifice the humans, who wield weapons far beyond anything we have. That the Cloven would concentrate so much force against them should by itself indicate how powerful they are, and why our enemy would be so desperate to claim them.”

But the Tribune remained unmollified. “Even if true, it changes nothing. And chain or no, I will not obey your orders absent a direct order from the Queen, Centurion. If that is a problem, then I will happily duel you over these terms,” he suggested in a low voice, speaking beneath narrowed eyes.

She smirked at the clumsy attempt to goad her, still sensing she had the upper wing. “I’m afraid that you’d have to wait in line, sir, given I already promised duels with Obsidian Ire and the Senior Scimitar over your orders.” She glanced over at the latter, who didn’t react. The former, however, bared her teeth with her smile. “And speaking of the Senior Scimitar, that brings me to the question of your most crow-damningly idiotic order of all.” She glared at him as he abruptly stood up and gave a low trill at the near mortal-insult.

In response, she turned fractionally away from him in an open show of disrespect, causing his wings to flare harder; they went so wide that they brushed those of Optio Virgo again. She flinched hard and nearly fell over at the renewed contact, earning a smirk from Gilda and what sounded like a snicker from Fortrakt.

“If you’re through rubbing wings with your aide, you’ll be pleased to know that Miles Fortuna faithfully carried out her orders to alert the Cloven when we took refuge in what we thought was the abandoned Changeling hive, even though she rightfully found them insane,” she informed him, earning a glare from the Tribune and squeak-like sound from the young aide, whose mind now looked decidedly elsewhere.

“And by doing so, she nearly started a battle between the humans and Ravens right then and there! It wasn’t just them, either—I was ready to kill her when I saw what she did! It was only by the grace of the Ancestors that we didn’t fight and wipe each other out!”

He stared at her in disbelief after another glance at his aide. “And you’re blaming me for that? I didn’t instruct her to do it in front of you! That was her choice, not mine,” he said, sounding suddenly flustered.

Gilda glared at him, scarcely able to imagine what Miles Fortuna thought to hear it, though she could hear the other eagless’s beak beginning to grind. “Is that your excuse? By the crows, you put her in an impossible situation! She thought that if we knew her orders, we’d try to stop her, and she was right!”

“The Centurion speaks true, sir. And with respect, how else was I supposed to do it?” the Senior Scimitar asked him pointedly, not even caring that she was speaking out of turn. “If I went far enough away that they couldn’t see me, my absence alone would have been suspicious! They would have thought I was corrupted and probably killed me!”

“Then that would have been the preferable choice, given it would likely have prevented suspicion from falling on your team, who would have survived you,” he said coldly, eliciting a glare. “But there was no need. Had you just stealthed yourself and done it out of sight, then no suspicion would have fallen on you.”

The Senior Scimitar stood up sharply and stalked towards him, her wings flared in anger, stopping only when a Silencer stepped forth to interpose himself. This time, it was the Raven eagless who looked ready to challenge him to a duel on the spot, leaving Gilda almost fervently hoping that she would. “By all our Ancestors, the Centurion is correct—you really are a crow-damned fool!”

He stood as well. “Raven or no, I will not suffer your insolence any more than hers, Senior Scimitar!”

“Sorry, but you will suffer both hers and mine. I see you are unaware that the humans can see right through magical shrouds, Tribune Cipio,” Gilda said mildly to a nod from Imlay. “Yet another example of your appalling and inexcusable ignorance regarding them.”

Cipio looked at her like she was crazy. “No, they can’t. They have no magic except whatever weak wards the ponies gave them to prevent scans of their weapons or being ripped from their grasp.”

Gilda’s grin turned evil even as she wondered in what world magical wards cast by the Pony Princesses themselves would be considered ‘weak’. “Senior Scimitar? By my order, dim the lights. Then stealth yourself and hide in the room.”

“By your command,” she said without removing her enraged gaze from Cipio, making a waving motion with her wing at a crystal on the wall that instantly dimmed the sunlight coming through the ceiling, reducing the illumination to twilight levels. That accomplished, she bobbed her beak once to tap the nightshade crystal around her neck. After she faded from view, she triggered a flash gem on her own volition to force eyes to flinch away so they couldn’t track her outline as she moved around the room.

By the time the Tribune’s vision cleared, she was gone and Gilda couldn’t find her, meaning the Raven eagless was remaining so still that there was not even a telltale distortion in the air of her passage. She waited a beat to let the Tribune get even more angry and impatient, noticing the black-eyed guard drones at the room’s side entrance seemed to be staring intently at something.

One caught Gilda’s gaze and motioned to the Tribune’s right, in between him and his clearly unhappy aide, causing her to grin at what she guessed the angry assassin had decided to do. “That’s long enough. If you would do the honors, Corporal Imlay?”

“My pleasure, sir.” Grinning thinly, Imlay removed a small cylindrical device from his belt and made a motion with his thumb talon against it that resulted in a soft click. It immediately lit up with a violet beam that caused the area just to the right of the Tribune to dimly fluoresce, revealing the ghostlike outline of the Raven warrior with her twin blades drawn, one each at the throat of the Tribune and her aide.

The former swore violently and belatedly raised an armored gauntlet to block the threatened blow while the latter shrieked like a cub and stumbled back from the seeming specter, her eyes wide, spilling a jug of ink over the parchment she’d been writing on.

“Believe me now, Tribune?” Gilda asked smugly as behind her, Karin Kazal openly laughed.

“I will credit you with having an impressive set of antlers, Senior Scimitar—figuratively speaking, of course. I immensely enjoyed that. And in case you think it’s some trick, Tribune Cipio, please allow me to illuminate the situation further…”

The ibex buck’s antlers ignited with a far more intense purple light as he gained a malicious grin. It instantly and quite vividly lit up the Senior’s Scimitar’s stealthed form, showing her full outline and posture as she returned her blades to her back, silently sheathing them before she deactivated the spell and stepped away with a parting glower at Cipio.

“That is why I couldn’t do it while stealthed, Tribune. I had already learned that at night, those odd lights of theirs could find me even from far away. And if I went somewhere hidden to do it, my absence alone would be highly suspicious.”

“And even if she wasn’t stealthed, you will note that the light still makes her wings glow, since that’s where her internal magic is most concentrated,” Giraldi added, to which the Raven eagless flared her wings to show how they lit up under the violet light. To Gilda’s surprise, however, the Changeling drones in the room did not fluoresce under its effects, leaving her wondering if that was a product of their natural magical suppression, and if their disguises would fail to show up under the light as well.

“By all the crows, what human sorcery is this?” the still-flustered Cipio demanded to know as he stared after her, looking for a moment like he wanted to draw his blade.

“It’s not sorcery. We call them blacklights, sir,” an unsmiling Imlay said as he returned the small cylindrical object to his belt, which Gilda noted was significantly weaker in effect given its small size than the larger lights mounted on other Marine rifles. “Never mind why or what they are. But we discovered a while ago that they could illuminate magical surfaces, making them ideal for seeing through shrouds or any other form of invisibility magic. All my Marines are equipped with them. And we were using them constantly to make sure nothing could sneak up on us.”

“Then how by all the crows did he—” the Tribune glanced over at Karin Kazal.

“And before you accuse them of teaching me the trick, I learned it by simply observing the strange light and then duplicating it, as have corrupted griffon mages,” the Starshina anticipated his question as he extinguished the glow of his fully-healed horns. “I would be grateful to the humans for showing us a means to defeat Raven stealth, except that the Cloven now know it as well. That means your best warriors will now be far less effective in battle—no offense, Senior Scimitar.”

“None taken, Starshina,” Miles Fortuna said as she stepped back to Gilda’s side. “And sorry, but not sorry, Tribune. You can report me to the Council of Crows for threatening conduct if you wish, but I will be happy to tell them in return how you were willing to waste all our lives on an idiotic gamble that nearly failed right at the start.”

“It was far from a waste, Senior Scimitar.” With effort, the Tribune visibly mastered his raw nerves and racing heart, his talons clenched into fists that sat hard against the table surface. “Need I remind you of the Cloven army we eliminated? Or the Overlord?”

“I’m sorry. And just who is this ‘we’ you speak of, Tribune Cipio?” Obsidian Ire growled from behind Gilda. “Their strength was spent on the Centurion’s force. Their Overlord fell to the Changelings, not us!”

“Because of my plan. Because of the soldiers I sent you. Because of the arrangements I made with Queen Lepidoptes to protect you. Because of the risks I carefully weighed and accepted! Because of the risks it was your duty to accept without question or second guessing! We won a great victory, yet all you can do is whine over its cost and act like my eight-year old daughter!”

Gilda paused before speaking, once again having to hold her temper at bay. “Spare me such insulting comparisons to your cubs, Tribune. You didn’t take our toys away, you nearly took our lives away! Yes, you sent me soldiers, but only in numbers that were not even remotely adequate to the task!”

“Which was deliberate to bait the Cloven into attacking you, not knowing that a thousand Changelings were backing you!”

She rolled her eyes hard. “Yes. And by your own plan, they couldn’t help us until we were on the verge of being overrun with nearly half my force slain!” she immediately retaliated. “And speaking of those soldiers, I will be keeping the survivors to form my new unit. At this point, I’m sure they’d much rather serve under me than you.”

He grinned unpleasantly in return. “Sorry, but you can’t, Centurion. Your chain only grants you the right to command internal security forces like the Auxiliary Guard and Peacekeepers. Not the Knights or Talons I gave you. So, I could order them taken from you,” he reminded her through narrowed eyes.

Gilda guessed that he’d made a hasty review of available documentation regarding what she could and couldn’t do with her Diplomatic Command Chain—the same review she had made the first night she’d been awarded it, reading through several scrolls she’d been given by then-Tribune Narada.

I wonder what she would think of what I’m doing now? Or does she already know? “You could, except for the safety of our diplomatic guests, I’m ordering you not to. As I have already fought with them and they now know human capabilities well, I wish them to comprise my escort force. And if you studied the rules of them, you know that bearing command chains of your own doesn’t override the authority of mine!” she reminded him, stretching out her neck over the table to show off the chain before smiling sweetly and settling back.

She let him seethe for a bit before continuing. “Still, if you insist on taking my Knights and Talons from me, I suppose I’ll just have to commandeer the Paladins you have guarding your headquarters, including those two behind you. I do command them!”

He looked up sharply while the Paladins themselves sneered in contempt at the threat. “You are not taking away my best soldiers, Centurion.”

“You don’t have a say in the matter, sir.” She hissed out the word. “I will have my orders carried out regardless of whether you like them or not.”

“And vice versa. So where does this leave us, Centurion? With subordinates forced to report to two commanders working at cross-purposes while we wait for the Queen to realize what an arrogant idiot you’ve been and remove your chain?”

“I could say the same right back to you, Tribune,”she snarled, noticing a scent of cider in the air around her with her latest inhalation. “Because be assured, I will be writing a report to her explaining exactly what you did and what it could have cost us—which is everything!”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, spare me such melodramatic tripe, Centurion. Even if they’re repeating, a few human cannons in the hooves of the Cloven are not going to topple the Kingdom, and we’ll develop countermeasures quickly enough,” he promised, then sneered.

“But if it makes you feel better, go right ahead. I will proudly defend my actions before the Queen herself if she desires. But you, Centurion Behertz, don’t have a wing to fly on in issuing these orders. And when that chain is removed for your extreme misuse of it, you and your subordinates will be severely punished for your insubordination and willful disobedience.”

Despite the dire threat implicit in such a statement—the penalty for a soldier deliberately disobeying orders in wartime was death—she didn’t flinch from him. “The very fact that I’m standing here before you with my chain still around my neck says otherwise,” she answered instantly. “And even if it’s removed, I would strongly advise you not to order my arrest. Our human friends would not take kindly to that. And might well refuse to obey you.”

“So now you put them above your oath of service? Above the Kingdom itself?” he stood and shouted at her, his wings flared forward in fury.

“They are my oath of service! My duty as diplomatic liaison is to defend them and their interests!” she shouted back, her wings quickly taking the same posture. “Serving the Kingdom means keeping them from being killed and corrupted at all costs! And by all the Crows of the Kingdom, how do you expect me to not stand with them when one of them is my mate?”

His eyes flashed as his rattled aide fumbled her quill again, her flush growing and wings flaring in something other than anger despite her best efforts to restrain it, suddenly in danger of brushing the Tribune’s again before she could edge further away. But Cipio didn’t notice, his attention fixed straight ahead. “That you are allowing your feelings for one of these alien apes to cloud your judgment does not speak well for you, or your ability to be dispassionate.”

“Dispassionate? By the Ancestors, how can you be so unfeeling?” Fortrakt could restrain himself no longer, leaping up to shout at him, and this time, it was Gilda who held him back with a paw on his leather-clad chest. “We suffered horribly out there! Or did you not notice all the empty places in our formation when you were inspecting us?”

Cipio’s face crinkled as the two halves of his beak began to grind together in another sign of extreme anger. “I am neither impressed by your casualties nor moved by them, Decurion. For I have seen far worse than that over the past day!” he stated angrily, then got up to walk around the table from the side opposite his aide to stare him in the face. To Gilda’s surprise, the Silencers allowed it though they watched him carefully; she could only guess that it was because they could somehow tell he wasn’t going to attack.

“You are not owed an explanation, but since you are grotesquely ignorant of what happened here, I will grant you one: we had no inkling of anything wrong until wounded adolescent dragons arrived on the back of an injured and dying adult who crashed into the city, claiming their island had been overrun and the Cloven were coming!” he grated out, trying to cow a trembling Fortrakt with his size and station.

“We had but minutes to act before the first attack went in! Even forewarned, we only barely beat it back, and the only way I could relieve pressure on our soldiers enough to solidify our defenses was to make them attack you!” He rounded on Gilda next.

“So don’t you dare lecture me on your losses, Centurion! And don’t speak to me of the dead you’ve suffered! Do you want to know how many orphaned cubs and Caleponian foals will be sleeping in the streets of Aricia tonight, having lost their families? Or how the healer houses are so full of wounded civilians that our Magus can only barely balm because I have no choice but to place priority on healing wounded soldiers?” He slammed his fist down hard enough on the table to crack the chitin surface, his fury strong enough to make Fortrakt flinch.

“By the Ancestors themselves, I have spent the last day trying to save the city and all the surviving soldiers I could, dealing with everything from Cloven attacks to civilian refugees to disorder in the streets!” he shot back.

“Which is to say nothing of damaged airships that fled from further west with only a third of their crew aboard! Or nearly an entire legion lost fleeing Tierra that fell to swarms of corrupted and pure Cloven forms that then impaled themselves against our defense! We defeated them, but only because our civilians threw themselves into the fray with far too many centuries slain! Even with their help, we only held on by the tips of our wingfeathers! And after all that, you have the crow-damned gall to attack my orders and undermine my command?”

Satisfied he’d finally gotten their attention, he pulled back and partially furled his wings, walking back to the other end of the table before retaking his seat there. When he finally spoke again, his voice was calmer but still very icy.

“You and your soldiers are not the only ones who have suffered severely, Centurion. And you are far from the only force who needed rescue this past day. All of which means that you are not special to me regardless of whatever exotic weapons the humans hold. I am trying to save a city, not a century. And so far, I have. That is the case I will present to the Queen. And that is what will ultimately cost you your career and your chain—unless you back off and publicly accept my authority here and now!”

His vehemence gave her pause, and for a moment, Gilda couldn’t come up with a retort. But just as she saw the flaw in his logic—if saving soldiers was so important, then why had he been willing to sacrifice not just hers, but over a century and a half of additional Talons and Knights on top of them? —the door to the room opened between two of the Silencers and the armored form of Queen Lepidopes strode in, flanked by Archon Archex and the other large blue-trimmed drone.

“Please excuse my interruption,” she said politely with a bared throat, entering the chamber to a bow of her Silencer sentries, who she then dismissed with what Gilda was certain was a mental command. “But I think this has gone on long enough. As it is now clear you are unable to reach an accord on your own, I believe it is time for me to intervene.”

“You promised us that you wouldn’t eavesdrop on our conversation, Queen Lepidoptes,” Tribune Cipio reminded her, looking oddly uncomfortable for a moment as the two large drones took station on either side of the table where the Silencers had been. The latter exited through the doors the Queen had entered, closing it behind them.

She met his gaze evenly. “I haven’t been, Tribune. But my drones have been listening and have told me that you are at an impasse. Even without their report, I could sense that your emotions are very dark and bitter, and only growing more so as this conversation goes on. It is clear that you two are not listening to each other, and unless you are, this meeting will go nowhere,” she said with a look at each end of the room.

“I would normally be happy to let you both vent your anger, but in this instance, I cannot let it go on indefinitely due to the eggs we keep below. Our younglings are feeding on ambient emotions even before hatching, but they cannot do so selectively. For that reason, we are careful to only feed them positive ones. At the moment, I am shielding them from yours, but you are beginning to affect my drones as well. So for the sake of my Hive, I must ask you both to quiet your passions and control your tempers.”

The Tribune’s expression softened, but only just. “With greatest respect, Queen Lepidoptes, this is an internal Kingdom military matter, and not something you need concern yourself with. I will be more than happy to end this conversation and leave once the Centurion accepts that she is not in command here. Because if she doesn’t, I’ll have her dragged out and into a jail cell.”

“That’s an empty—” Gilda started to growl, but the Queen held up a gilded hoof to reinforce her gentle mental pressure.

“And with respect to you, Tribune, my ship has been accorded the status of embassy by your Queen. Thus, you are on foreign soil here—of which I am the head of state. Meaning that even if you had the authority to arrest her, you may not remove her without my permission,” she reminded him calmly.

“I offered it as neutral ground to settle this dispute, but it is now clear to me you cannot do so on your own. Your positions are too intractable, and I can tell from your emotions alone that you are simply talking past each other. So, I will take it upon myself to mediate.”

As she spoke, she went to a rather ornate cabinet and opened it to reveal various drinks, including outright spirits. Grabbing a series of bottles and bowls, she began assembling them before her with her magic, gathering enough drinking vessels for all.

“And do you really think that offering us refreshments is going to solve anything?” The Tribune asked in strained patience as the familiar scent of the honey wine reached Gilda’s nose.

“I do,” Queen Lepidoptes replied easily as she began to pour it. “For I have found over my many years that simply being a barbird is sometimes the best form of diplomacy available. In proper amounts, a good drink both soothes passions and boosts them, enabling beings to empathize more easily. Though there tends to be a fine line between just enough and too much, I am quite good at walking it now.”

“I am not about to imbibe anything alcoholic, Queen Lepidoptes. And I remind you again that this does not concern you—”

“I’m afraid that it does, Tribune, as the safety and security of my Hive is directly affected by what happens here, and the decisions you make. For that reason, I must insist that the two of you reach an accord before this meeting concludes.” She poured her own drink last. “I have my own perspective of these events, unique from either of you. And thus, if you are not willing to listen to each other, then it is my hope that you will at least listen to me.”

The Tribune made no move to accept his bowl, giving his aide a warning glare when she looked interested in hers. He waited until she had resumed writing before answering. “With all due respect, Queen Lepidoptes, what would you know about military operations and tactics?”

She gave him a cool look. “A great deal. Aside from the fact that my drones must become able warriors in order to fight mating rounds with griffons and otherwise pass as soldiers in Kingdom society, all Changeling Queens inherit the memories of their predecessors. As my line stretches back for two millennia, I have the experience of many military engagements in my memory, Tribune, including the great Pony/Gryphon conflict and even the long-ago War of the Celestial Sisters,” she informed him, causing him to fall silent.

“Between that and my mother’s tutelage, which included studies of the great campaigns of Prelate Salvio Gaius and even the writings of the pony Sun Master himself, be assured that I am fully trained in all forms of military affairs, including tactics and set-piece battles,” she told him, eliciting a grin from Gilda to see the look on the Tribune’s face.

“In fact, I could recite you chapter and verse on everything from the Battle of Stalliongrad to last year’s failed attempt by ibexian irregulars to raid the Cheetahean peninsula. So if you believe that years of military experience is the measure of a leader’s worth, then I have literally centuries of it. Making me the most experienced and able military leader here,” she informed him in a dry tone.

Gilda had the distinct pleasure of seeing the Tribune momentarily squirm. “Be that as it may, Countess—er, your Highness—You are not responsible for an entire city. I am.”

“No. I am simply responsible for an entire Hive,” she corrected him before Gilda could mull too deeply on the mistaken address, a sudden edge to her voice. “One that comprises thousands of individual drones, hatchlings, and eggs that I am telepathically linked to and must tend at all times. And before you say that I don’t have that many drones here, I remind you that my Hive’s members live all over Aricia, and are no less endangered than your own civilians. We have already lost eighteen drones in the past day—nothing compared to your casualties, perhaps, but given we are all telepathically linked, every death is keenly felt.”

“I’m truly sorry, Your Highness,” Giraldi offered his regrets before Gilda could. “Forgive me, but I must ask—were they…?”

She bowed her head sadly as she shook it. “Fortunately, those that fell to the Cloven were able to poison their minds to make sure they could not be possessed—a failsafe we use to prevent knowledge of our Hive from falling into the wrong wings. But it is not perfect and there is always a chance the Cloven could overcome it. Indeed, had they corrupted even one of us, your plan to kill the Overlord could not have worked because the Cloven would have known we were there, Tribune Cipio. And likely amassed a much larger army with multiple Overlords before striking.”

Cipio stared at her as she finished passing out full mugs and bowls, all carved from crystalline chitin. “You didn’t tell me that.”

She raised an eyeridge at him. “You didn’t give me a chance. You simply delivered your orders and cut communications after to make sure your plans wouldn’t be intercepted,” she reminded him coolly, to which the Tribune fell silent again. “Please drink, Tribune. Please drink, all of you,” she invited again, to which Gilda took her bowl and nodded at the others to indicate they could do the same.

“And what is this?” Cipio asked suspiciously, sniffing at the golden liquid.

“A honey-based wine,” Queen Lepidoptes said easily. “The Centurion has already tried it.”

“I have,” Gilda confirmed, feeling her temper start to cool and the pink around the edges of her vision receding as she drank it for the second time; she wasn’t sure if her mellowing mood was more due to that or the gentle and soothing mental pressure of the Queen. “It’s good. And I agree it’s something they could potentially market to the Kingdom later.”

“Thank you, Centurion. May I offer you this as well, Corporal Imlay?” the Queen invited, noting he’d made no move to take his mug.

“Thanks, but no thanks, ma’am,” he said politely. “Maybe later, when I finally go off duty.”

“I believe I will try it,” Karin Kazal said, to which the Queen promptly poured him a bowl. He sipped at it with his bearded muzzle, then blinked. “Surprisingly good, if a bit weak. I could use something stronger after this ordeal, though it seems almost too much to hope that you have the beloved beverage of my Rodina as well.”

In response, Queen Lepidoptes smiled and produced a small glass jug with odd ibexian text that immediately caused his eyes to light up. “Рубин Родины!” the Starshina exclaimed in delight. “One of the best of all vodkalf labels. You are truly a hospitable host, Queen Lepidoptes.” He accepted a short glass in his aura, pouring himself a drink of what looked like a clear, water-like liquid; the sheer amount of alcohol in it wafted through the air and was enough to make Gilda’s eyes water when it hit.

“Of course,” the Queen acknowledged with a nod. “As we occasionally entertain individuals of all races here, we stock their favorite spirits. I have no doubt that we will be eventually adding some human ones as well.”

The Starshina didn’t reply immediately as he threw back the contents of the mug and exhaled happily. “By the Ancient Rams themselves, I needed that… may I offer you some as well, Senior Scimitar?” He turned to Miles Fortuna. “Come now. Surely you acquired a taste for it while on infiltration missions in the Ascendancy?” he suggested with a wry grin, not waiting for her answer before pouring her some in a bowl.

The Raven commander looked annoyed for only a moment before she relented with a nod. “I did. But I had to be careful with it given the average ibex could drink me under the table, even when I was transformed into one.”

“A shortcoming you will have to fix if you wish to pass as one of us,” he told her with a twinkle, “and your training starts now.”

“I remind you that you are on duty as well, Senior Scimitar,” the Tribune glowered at her, to which she glared back.

“As my mission for you is complete, and you clearly did not expect me to survive it, you will forgive me if I ignore you and indulge in a simple celebration of survival, Tribune. Especially since I consider such orders every bit as foolish as the ones you gave me yesterday.” She upended the bowl and coughed hard as her eyes watered, earning a grin from Obsidian Ire and a roar of laughter from Karin Kazal.

“A strong spirit, is it? Then as I find this Changeling drink a bit too cloying—no offense, Queen Lepidoptes—I might like some too, Starshina,” the drakina requested politely.

“Of course, my Drakon friend.” He poured her some next, watching as she sniffed at it once, then upended it into her snout and gaped, briefly venting flame that was less violet than bright orange.

“By the Ancient Dragon Lords… that even burns me!” she croaked out, but despite that, she passed back her mug for another pour as the Tribune could only watch in disgust.

“By the Ancestors themselves… have all my soldiers lost their collective minds?”

“No. They just know how lucky they are to be alive and are rejoicing in it,” Queen Lepidoptes answered for all of them. “One of the great ironies of war is that it can turn the most implacable of enemies into friends, like the Starshina and Senior Scimitar there. And sometimes even more,” the Changeling monarch said with a sideways glance at Gilda, who was just able to stifle a blush and restrain the impulse to look at Karin Kazal. She then raised a chalice in toast. “To alliances and friendships, both old and new.”

After her call was echoed by all—Imlay at least raised his canteen in toast—she waited until the Tribune had reluctantly taken a sip of his drink before speaking again. “There. Now, as I promised my perspective earlier, allow me to give it: I must mostly side with the Centurion in this matter, Tribune Cipio,” she began, topping off bowls and mugs.

“To begin with, you must understand that the Centurion's anger over your actions is very real, and her concerns are valid ones. You gambled not only the lives of your own soldiers and civilians, but those of a foreign power who had sworn no oath to the Kingdom and were guests of Queen Molyneux herself. And though I understand your reasons for doing so and recognize the great victory that was won, I also recognize that Centurion Behertz is correct—that the potential for disaster was very real.”

She held up a gilded hoof in the human manner to forestall a protest, which Gilda supposed was necessary given her four fairy fly wings didn’t furl and couldn’t be raised singly to make the normal griffon halting gesture.

Whether due to the motion or her gentle mental pressure, the Tribune stayed silent. “For it is not the human weapons that are dangerous so much as the humans themselves—by which I mean not their physical abilities but their expertise in warfare,” she explained.

“From the information my Hive has already gleaned about humanity, the one thing I can say for certain is that they are appallingly good at it. And thus, if the Cloven gained access to their memories and training, their fighting doctrine would evolve by leaps and bounds even without access to human cannons. Meaning we would be faced with a far more dangerous and deadly foe,” she continued calmly despite the anger still evident on the Tribune’s face.

“It would also mean that the Cloven would much better understand human fighting doctrine in turn and make it easier for them to devise countermeasures, including new and more deadly soldier forms specifically tailored to fight them. We already saw an early attempt at that with the use of spike-equipped ground soldiers at Lake Languid that were designed to counter the human range advantage. Each became what I can only describe as a miniature siege engine, enabling them to pin enemy forces with a bombardment from one group while storming them with another,” she said to a sharp nod from Gilda, who resisted the temptation to chime in.

“So, with the greatest respect, Tribune, I do not feel that the Centurion is exaggerating when she claims you endangered the Kingdom by deliberately endangering the humans. For to borrow the Sun Master’s phrase, one must not only know thy enemy, but thy ally. It is clear that you do not understand the full capabilities of the humans, which could be fatal to not just the defense of Aricia but the entire Kingdom.”

“Thank you, Queen Lepidoptes.” Gilda couldn’t quite keep the victorious grin from her face or the smugness from her voice, earning a narrowed gaze from the Tribune.

But her grin dropped quickly as the Queen turned to her next. “But at the same time, you, Centurion Grizelda Behertz, are badly overreacting and deliberately undermining the Tribune’s authority at a time when obedience to orders is essential,” she rebuked Gilda next.

“You sought to make clear your severe displeasure over his actions and show him why they were so dangerous? Be assured that you have done so, but you cannot berate or bully him into obeying you any more than he could do the same to you. To continue to try is to needlessly antagonize him—to potentially damage troop morale and the all-important military principle of unity to the detriment of Aricia, and all to seek satisfaction where none can ultimately be found,” she said, and Gilda found her expression falling the more the Changeling monarch spoke.

“Given griffon military culture, you should know better than anycreature that he cannot take back his actions, or even apologize for them. To do so would be to show weakness to both his underlings and enemies, whether inside or outside the city walls. Whether you agree with his decisions or not, he is the ranking officer and cannot appear as weak or kowtowing to a subordinate, even one bearing a command chain of her own,” she went on, leaving Gilda thinking she was explaining it as much for Imlay’s benefit as her own.

Imlay himself remained standing silently, though he was clearly listening closely. “Now all that said, I grant your concerns were valid and needed to be aired. But in seeking to extract a proverbial pound of flesh, as humans say, you have moved well away from your original purpose,” she explained softly, looking between them repeatedly as she began preparing a second drink; this one steaming and smelling of some form of tea.

“In my view, you are now engaging in little more than chest-fluffing and headcrest-flaring, to use your own terms, abusing your authority as diplomatic liaison in the process. It has gone well past the point of being productive or even effective. And thus, for the sake of the Kingdom, the humans you are responsible for, and your very mate, it is time to let this go.”

She finished the tea preparation and floated them both an ornate bowl that looked like it came from Feudal Neighpon, filled with a steaming liquid that smelled of spice and honey. Once they were served, she served herself and sat down between them on a plush pillow, sipping at her own cup.

“The war has just begun. And the Cloven will come again, using the bitterly won experience they have gained here to plan their next offensive. Much needs to be done to prepare for them or an eventual counterattack to drive them from your territory, but this cannot happen while the two of you are butting heads like stubborn rams. For this to work, you will have to meet each other halfway. And that starts with an acknowledgement of the other’s concerns. As it was your decisions that initiated this, I would ask that you go first, Tribune.”

Despite the invitation, he didn’t right away, continuing to glare at Gilda. She couldn’t sense what he was thinking, but the perceptive Queen did—or at least, Gilda guessed that the Changeling monarch was picking up the emotions roiling beneath the surface of his still-angry features.

Queen Lepidoptes confirmed it with her next words. “Do not make this a question of honor or showing weakness, Tribune. There is no cause to stand on ceremony nor anycreature else to impress. I’m sure all present will agree that what happens here, stays here.”

Glancing at her slightly nervously as he realized his state of mind was an unrolled scroll to her, he took a very deliberate sip of his tea to steady himself, struggling to master his emotions.

“Very well, Your Highness. To hear the accounts of the Centurion and her soldiers, perhaps you are right that I didn’t think this through fully. I saw an opportunity to take down a Cloven Overlord and its entire army, but it is possible that I didn’t correctly weigh the risks against the rewards. I also didn’t consider that the humans had sworn no oath to the Kingdom, and that I had no right to spend their lives like my own soldiers,” he granted somewhat grudgingly, and Gilda got the distinct impression that even that would not have been forthcoming without the presence of the Changeling monarch.

“Nor had my hive, Tribune.” There was the barest note of rebuke in the Queen’s voice. “Your plan demanded that we reveal ourselves and abandon our home of seven centuries. You also gave us no say in the matter when you issued your orders, forcing my drones to prepare for imminent battle and evacuation on very short notice. You instructed us to protect the humans from being overrun until the Overlord appeared, and we did. But I do not think you appreciated how difficult and dangerous your plan truly was for us, as well as the Centurion’s forces. Or that it could have been compromised from the start had the Cloven captured any of my children.”

For the first time, Cipio looked chagrined, closing his eyes and looking away for a moment. “I… understand that it cost you your home. For which I am sorry, Countess—er, Queen Lepidoptes,” he slipped again, causing Gilda to exchange a glance and grin with Fortrakt at where she guessed the confusion was coming from.

“But at the same time, I must point out that you are far from alone. You lost your home, but so have countless others in this conflict. As I already told the Centurion, Aricia’s streets are now filled with griffon and Caleponian refugees, including far too many orphaned foals and cubs.

“It is all we can do right now to care for and feed them. And with respect, it was ultimately not possible for you to remain out of the war. I appreciate that you trusted me enough to reveal yourself, but if you truly wish to live among us openly, then I don’t have to be Queen Molyneux to say that she would require you to prove your worthiness by fighting—and dying—at our side.”

“And so we did,” she reminded him evenly. “Despite its wrenching cost. Our casualties to this point are nothing compared to yours, perhaps, but as our minds are linked to at least a limited degree, I remind you that we feel every loss keenly. Nor can we turn off these empathic abilities, as they are part of our very being and essential to our survival. That meant we also felt the full rage and despair of your soldiers when they thought you had callously abandoned them and all was lost,” she said softly.

Gilda grimaced. She didn’t want to think of what Queen Lepidoptes had sensed from her during her multiple temper tantrums at being told they were to stay, but yet again, the Queen answered her unspoken question almost before she could form it.

“The Centurion here was particularly upset, with good reason. We told you that they had arrived at Lake Languid, but not what they had gone through to get there. I don’t know the story myself, but we could tell from their emotions alone that they were in dire straits—that they had been fighting all night just to get into a position for rescue, only to be denied evacuation for what they felt was no good reason.”

“You got that right!” Gilda snarled, not even caring that she might be speaking out of turn. “To use the human phrase, we went through Hell to get that far, Tribune, surviving an ambush in the woods and an extended siege at Bale that even included an attack by possessed adult dragons—oh, and did you know that the Marines had weapons that could shoot them down?” she asked him pointedly, causing him to look up in surprise.

“Surely you jest. With but small cannons?” he asked incredulously as the Paladins behind him exdhanged a disbelieving look.

“With giant enchanted arrows they’re also equipped with, though I’ll let the Corporal speak to those. They’re the biggest reason we’re still alive! That was what you risked being turned on the Kingdom!” Gilda felt her ire rising anew and the pink in her vision along with it, suddenly having to restrain another urge to launch herself across the table to throttle him.

This time, the Queen seemed to notice, staring at her warily; a glance at the door showed her that even her two escort drones perked up and took notice. “I am uncertain if you are aware of this, Centurion Behertz, but you and your two subordinates are emitting a sharp cider scent that contains an odd and very potent magical mixture. Though I do not recognize its source, it seems to enhance your emotions, and possibly your strength as well,” she recognized cautiously.

“They are?” Cipio gave her a suspicious look that made her think he was suddenly wondering if she was somehow a Cloven infiltrator. Behind him, his Paladin guards and Magus tensed, ready to draw their weapons. “Care to explain, Centurion?”

“We are. And by your command,” Gilda replied shortly, taking a deep breath and another gulp of the honey wine to keep her temper from spiraling out of control again. What I wouldn’t give for a swig of Marco’s whiskey! “As I’m sure you’ve heard, Tribune, the human civilians and I were poisoned with zap apple cider spiked with fertility potion, along with Optio Giraldi and Decurion Gletscher here,” she recalled bitterly as her remembered anger over the attack roiled her emotions anew.

She took several deep breaths before continuing. “It was done by Ibexian Adepts at the orders of the Ascendancy’s Capricorn Conclave. Their intention was to get us to rape or kill the humans in the hope it would thwart any chance of an alliance or trade agreement. It failed.”

“She speaks true,” Karin Kazal admitted quietly, having to look away. “Though my team was not involved in that operation and was unaware it was happening, we certainly learned of it after the fact. And given all that has happened since, I am relieved that we did not succeed, given the great need for human soldiers and weapons now.”

The Tribune nodded but didn’t look at him. “I did hear about that—indeed, the whole Kingdom did. But weren’t you cured of it after?”

Gilda’s beak clenched as she exchanged a glance with Fortrakt, who grimaced. “We thought so, but apparently not. We were severely sick and had to be gradually weaned off it, but just in the past few days it’s been coming back hard. Speaking for myself, whenever I get mad or… emotional” —she just caught herself from saying aroused— “it kicks in and the zap apple part of it makes my emotions stronger,” she confirmed to a frown from the Tribune and brooding nods of confirmation from Giraldi and Fortrakt.

“We can’t stop it; all we can do is be aware of it and try to redirect it to things like combat, where it makes us stronger and faster. Still, I’ve been worried about it, too. I was hoping to get us scanned by healers once we made it to Arnau to see if it can at least be suppressed.”

“I see…” the Queen said cautiously, leaving Gilda certain she was able to read between the lines of what else the ‘odd magical mixture’ did. “I, too, have heard of this attack—we do keep up with the news, of course—and at the time, I was greatly relieved that war with the Ascendancy did not result. But even if it provides boons in battle, I would exercise extreme caution, Centurion, as its effects appear to be a double-edged sword. I know not if it can be fixed, but I will be happy to offer up my Hive’s expertise if it will help. We have our own ways of dispelling foreign magic.”

Gilda gave her a curt nod. “Thank you, Queen Lepidoptes. But right now, I feel my anger is justified, so I’m not going to fight it. Don’t worry, I’ve had plenty of practice controlling it by now. So no, I’m not going to attack him. Or be goaded into a duel I can’t win.” No matter how badly I may want to…

“Pity. For I would have thought you would duel on behalf of your so-called mate if you truly seek to honor him. But perhaps he is not worth such honor,” the Tribune said, earning a glare from Gilda and a frown from Queen Lepidoptes.

“That will do, Tribune,” she told him in a deceptively soft tone before Gilda could snarl a reply. “Insults of subordinates do not become you or your station. And I would say the same to you with regards to your superiors, Centurion.” She turned to Gilda next.

“You are my guests, and I expect all of you to comport yourselves properly. By my order, there will be no duels or blood spilled here. Indeed, there is no need for it. Not when I can promise that you will reach a resolution by the time you leave this room.”

Though Gilda had no idea how she thought she could guarantee that, she held her tongue, unsure if it was more due to Fortrakt’s comforting talons against her lower back or the Queen’s gentle mental pressure again. “That’s up to him,” she said. “And I’m still waiting for an acknowledgement of error regarding human capabilities, Tribune.”

But instead of directly answering her, he addressed Queen Lepidoptes. “You are also correct, Countess—er, Queen—that I do not currently know enough about the humans to protect or properly employ them in battle, so I will endeavor to learn—to see if these wild tales are true. Such information would also be useful if the Cloven ever succeeded in corrupting some of them. But even so…”

He turned his unrepentant gaze back up at Gilda, who guessed he had yet again accidentally addressed the Queen by the title of her griffon disguise. Countess, eh? Sounds like she’s been masquerading as a mid-level griffon noble!

But the thought was lost as she found herself pinned with a stare. “Even so, this information changes nothing, Centurion Behertz. Given the same circumstances, I would make the same decisions all over again on the grounds that the opportunity was there, and the potential boons of victory were so vast. We are in an existential struggle, and ultimately, even the humans must be considered expendable. Even if one of them is your mate.”

Gilda’s talons clenched, feeling her ire rise further. She felt an explosion trying to break free of her throat, but to her surprise, Fortrakt beat her to it. “Then by all our Ancestors, you’ve learned nothing!” he shouted at the Tribune, tears in his eyes from what she was sure was cider-roiled emotions crossed with endless combat and lack of sleep.

“And by all my Ancestors, I will have your rank for that!” the Tribune retaliated until the Queen magically restrained them.

“Sit down, both of you,” she commanded, reinforcing her words with a surprisingly firm magical shove that forced the two tiercels back into a sitting position. “The raw emotions in this room are intense and dangerously dark, and I can tell from them that you are simply trying to placate me with a few token concessions, Tribune,” she told him bluntly, causing his flush to deepen.

“This will not do. But when words alone fail to suffice, I can offer an alternative,” she said with a slow exhale of breath Gilda guessed was meant to cleanse her thoughts of all the extreme anger she was sensing.

“An alternative, Your Highness?” Giraldi inquired politely, leaving Gilda to note appreciatively that he alone seemed to have kept his composure.

“Yes, Optio. As I’m sure you all know, Changelings of the same Hive can communicate telepathically, but it is not a simple sharing of thoughts. We can also use it to share experiences and instantly impart knowledge. It is in fact the same ability the Cloven draw on to pass information and learn rapidly, though their version of it is far more crude. Theirs must go through an Overlord, given Cloven soldiers do not have an individual will to act or an ability to plan and reason on their own.”

“And what of it?” the Tribune asked irritably, looking more than ready to leave.

She gave him a look of strained patience. “If we choose, it need not be limited to the drones of my Hive. I can extend it to other beings in a limited manner, within a certain range. In so doing, you would be able to not just see, but directly experience all that they did, including witnessing the immense power of human weapons and the savagery of the Cloven attacks they defeated.”

She paused as Gilda exchanged a surprised look with Giraldi and Fotrakt; she could also hear Miles Fortuna and even Karin Kazal shifting uncomfortably in the corner behind her.

“Understand, I do not offer this service lightly, as it will force not just me, but any drones present to participate. Understand also that it can be a very overwhelming experience for those unaccustomed to it. You would be surprised how different and disorienting it can be to see through the senses of not just another being, but another race. Nevertheless, when used properly, it is a very powerful tool of empathy and understanding—one that can show both sides of this dispute what the other went through over the past day.”

Gilda glanced at Giraldi and Fortrakt again, earning a sharp nod from each. “Fine. If that’s what it takes to show him what a crow-damned fool he is, we’ll do it.”

But instead of immediately accepting, Queen Lepidoptes turned her gaze on Gilda again. “Before you agree, think carefully if you wish to participate, Grizelda Behertz,” the Changeling monarch admonished her.

“For I cannot censor or edit the experiences. By taking part in this, you will show not just the Tribune, but all your comrades everything that happened to you in the past day…”

Two story tracks are available from here. You can either follow the T-rated one, or the R-rated/M-rated one. Just click the appropriate link below:

—Firesight

===> next: Chapter 35 (R-rated)
===> next: Chapter 35 (T-rated)