Author's Note

Welcome back, folks. Been about half a year since the last chapter, but the story is resuming again. There is no sex here, but it’s coming next chapter. And since it’s Halloween Night...

Best Spooky Halloween Playlist 2023🎃 Haunted Graveyard Ambience 👻 Relaxing Halloween Music For Sleep

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

37: Queen's Gambit - Prelude

Gilda had thought that the Ancestors were firmly on her side when events conspired to prevent her indiscretions with Karin Kazal from being revealed to the Tribune and her friends.

Silently thanking them as she settled in with Giraldi, waiting to witness the Tribune’s sensual subjugation by the Changeling Queen as punishment for his many affronts to her hospitality, she couldn’t wait to tell Marco and Tara, hoping to swiftly get word to them along with Private First Class Guerrero and Lance Corporal Brennan—the only two Marines who knew—that their secret was safe and not to spread it any further.

But everything changed in an instant when Queen Lepidoptes abruptly deflated, sighing as her manner turned something close to solemn.

“I’m afraid that I have some troubling news, Centurion. I have just communicated telepathically with the Starshina. Unfortunately, he assumed that revealing your secret to the Tribune was a foregone conclusion, and once he knew, all would know,” she began ominously, causing Gilda to look up sharply, a sinking feeling entering her gut.

“So therefore, not wishing it to be sprung on them or told to them in some tainted manner by the Tribune, I regret to report that he revealed what happened between you both.”

Gilda couldn’t move or speak for a moment. Even with the cider still in her system, she felt herself going faint; her legs starting to shake as she sat back heavily. She went from thanking the Ancestors to asking if they were toying with her in a single second, certain her career—and her friendships with Giraldi and Fortrakt—were about to end.

For his part, Giraldi only looked up curiously after he’d finished pouring the rum into bowls, noticing their change of mood immediately; even the young Optio Virgo had perked up from where she was lovingly sketching the Tribune as he remained suspended in the air. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. What is this about?”

Queen Lepidoptes didn’t respond right away, her eyes still closed as some part of Gilda distantly guessed that she was continuing her mental conversation with Karin Kazal. “I could tell you, Optio. But I think it is best that the Centurion and Starshina do. I am deeply sorry it came to this, Grizelda Behertz. In hindsight, it would have been best if the Starshina stayed and participated in the memory replay directly. But what is done is done, and what I told you before still holds: I truly believe that once the circumstances of these events are known, your honor will be affirmed by all.”

Gilda’s only response was to fall forward enough to lean on the desk, burying her face in her talons while propped on her elbows. She was amazed at how, yet again, the very air seemed to have been yanked out from under her wings, causing both her prospects and spirits to plummet. “Ancestors preserve us…” was all she could immediately mutter, fearful of what would happen to Karin Kazal as much as herself.

She sensed herself beginning to fall into despair, but then felt a magical tendril on the bottom of her beak, forcing her face to rise. “Stand tall, Centurion,” the Queen told her, letting her see the compassion in her gaze. “Show no fear or regret, for they will reflect badly on both of you. You will understand that we must address this matter immediately, before word spreads. And it will spread,” she said with surety, causing Gilda’s guts to clench. “Better now when it can be properly explained, than later when rumor and gossip will hold sway. Better now than when you are not there to defend yourself. Or him.”

“By your command. I am not ashamed…” Gilda told herself in a shaky voice as much as the Queen. She desperately tried to steel herself as she sensed her worst fears about to be realized, her excitement now ebbing along with the size of her mammaries, even though the cider was still very much in her. Her vision remained pink-rimmed, but it was no longer her arousal it was enhancing, but her dread, threatening to send her spiraling into despondency. “I am not.”

“Not ashamed?” Optio Rubens Virgo repeated blankly, looking over at her in confusion. “Of what?”

But Gilda didn’t get a chance to answer before the Queen spoke again. “I know. I have seen your mind and emotions, young eagless. But you fear the reaction of your commander and comrades, which can appear to be the same thing,” Queen Lepidoptes warned before glancing up at a still-muted Tribune Cipio, who remained suspended in the air.

Her eyes then narrowed. “Whatever you see or hear in these next few minutes, know that it does not absolve you of your affronts against my crown or the Centurion, Cauda Cipio,” she warned him, then lowered him back to the floor, letting his trembling form lean heavily on the table again. “From here on out, you will comport yourself properly in my presence, treating me and my hive as well as your subordinates with due respect. If not, your penance will be extended. And may not be so readily enjoyed…” She finished ominously as her horn cast again, causing a fresh magical effect to wash over the entire room.

To Gilda’s great surprise, she felt at least part of the cider effect quickly ebb from her as the Queen’s aura enveloped her, along with the lingering arousal and physical changes it brought to all. “As we have used that fertility potion you were force-fed before, we also know how to quickly purge it if there is a danger of overdose or discovery,” she explained shortly, leaving Gilda with a sudden headache on top of her other worries. The pink rim on her vision remained, however, causing her to rub her temples along with Giraldi.

“I’m afraid I cannot help with the cider without a more concerted magical effort, however. And as I see you are now suffering a minor measure of withdrawal symptoms…” The Queen cast a second spell that caused the pain and cravings Gilda felt to fade. “There. But before I re-admit our other guests, know that what I said to the Tribune holds for all of you: I expect everycreature present to behave with due respect for not just me, but each other. I realize that the discussion to follow will be a difficult one. But there is no reason it cannot be a civilized one.”

She waited to receive nods before opening the door behind Gilda’s side of the room. To her surprise, everycreature except Imlay was still there, including a very tired-looking Fortrakt and Obsidian Ire along with Miles Fortuna and her two Raven guards, who were both eaglesses. Karin Kazal was also present; he walked in apart from the rest with his head hung low, keeping space between himself and the griffons. But they were all preceded by the two large drones and four silencers, the former of whom planted themselves beside Gilda, guarding her at what she presumed was the Queen’s order. The latter took station at the corners, where they could watch over the entire room.

Though Gilda didn’t think she was in any danger of being attacked, she swore she could all but taste the shock and anger in the very air around them, leaving her wondering if having the Changeling Queen inside her head left her with some lingering ability to sense emotions.

Whether she did or not, she couldn’t bring herself to meet their baleful gazes, bypassing them entirely to raise her haunted eyes to a guilty-looking Karin Kazal, whose head hung low. “I’m sorry, Centurion,” he apologized with a tilt-headed bow of his head, presenting the back of his neck and antlers. “As I was certain what occurred was about to be revealed, I thought it best that they heard it from me instead of the Tribune.”

“Do not blame him. Or yourself for this, Centurion,” the Queen directed before Gilda could reply. “He was doing what he thought best for both of you. As such, I ask that all of you abandon any preconceptions of how or why it happened. For if you will not take it from her, then take it from me that their encounter was neither coerced, nor unnatural. For if it was, my hive could not have drawn so much love from it, powering us up just when we needed it most.”

“Encounter? Love?” Cipio finally managed to speak again, looking uncharacteristically unnerved as he started to pull himself back up. “You mean, aside from her herding with three humans?”

The Queen didn’t reply. She instead looked towards Gilda, who realized instantly that the Changeling Monarch would not speak for her this time. Because I have to be the one to reveal and explain it, or she’s right—it’ll come across as me being ashamed of it. Ancestors preserve me… she couldn’t resist praying again as she took a final breath to force the words out.

“Yes, Tribune. Going into this, I had completely forgotten about what happened with my human friends, because of something else that occurred later. Something that hit me—hit us—like a bolt from the blue,” she said to a brooding nod from Karin Kazal. “For what little it’s worth, Ancestors know that I didn’t plan it—neither of us did. It just… happened.”

“Then, it’s true?” Fortrakt asked her, swaying slightly from lack of sleep. “You… and him?” He pointed a trembling talon at Karin Kazal.

Mustering all her courage, Gilda forced herself to meet their collective gazes. “It’s true,” she confirmed, trying not to feel faint at the admission or look at either Cipio or Giraldi, whose stunned gazes she could now feel boring into the side of her head. “When we were saved from the dragon by the human missiles, the force of the explosions flung us hard across the lake. They sent us both skidding along the surface, clear into the cove. We passed out there in a heap, and then when we came to and found ourselves lucky to be alive…” She blushed along with him, and this time, she couldn’t help but look away.

“So he said, Centurion,” Obsidian Ire replied over crossed arms as she leaned back against the wall again, her tone almost as contemptuous as when they had first met back at the hill. “But that doesn’t excuse it in my eyes. As dragons, we have strict rules regarding rutting, though I am not so arrogant as to apply them to other races. But there is still a time and place for it. By the Ancient Dragon Lords themselves, that wasn’t it.”

“But… why?” was all a still-stunned Fortrakt could ask in a slightly forlorn tone; his air was that of a cub learning his longtime hero of myth and legend was not as pure or powerful as he had believed. “By all our Ancestors, why would you do that? Betray your duty, your mate, and yourvery race?”

Gilda felt her guts clench at the word ‘betray’. Not because she thought she had, but because she realized that was exactly how most griffons—and probably most ibex—would take it. “Because he saved me, cub. Saved us all, over and over again,” she said, feeling her earlier emotions come flooding back.

“He saved us from the first flyer swarm over Bale. Then saved us for a second time with those summoning gems we used to escape that crow-cursed place. Saved me from a corrupted Raven assassin before the final battle. And because when I was chased by that dragon and was sure I was dead, I swore to the Ancestors that if they saved me, I would never again turn down a worthy partner as I already had repeatedly,” she explained, struggling not to start shaking as she sensed how inadequate her friends found the explanation.

“I know how it sounds! But I swear to the Ancestors that’s exactly what happened. My prayer was answered almost instantly when the Starshina saved me. By doing so, he became that worthy partner, even if I thought he was one of the last creatures I could ever be attracted to. And yes, even if it happened at a time and place I would never have chosen.”

“Worthy?” Giraldi repeated somewhat numbly; even he suddenly looked at a loss for words as he put together the pieces he was presented with. “I admit he has helped us repeatedly, but… him?”

“Him. And yes. Worthy,” she insisted more forcefully, resolving that she’d stand up for Karin Kazal if nothing else. “And though I’m terrified of what’s going to happen to us now, I do not regret it. For if I did, I’d be dishonoring not just myself and the Starshina, but the Ancestors themselves for answering my prayer!” She repeated the Queen’s words to her.

“Indeed. As Changelings who have spent many centuries among griffons, we know well that eaglesses generally care far more about battle skill and personal honor than looks or station, Optio Galen Giraldi,” The Queen finally offered on Gilda’s behalf. “By fighting at her side, saving her and being willing to sacrifice himself to do so, I doubt that any here could claim that Karin Kazal had not met both.”

But Miles Fortuna shook her head. “With due respect, Queen Lepidoptes, that isn’t the problem here—at least, not for me. Like Obsidian Ire, it is the timing that I take severe issue with.” Her voice turned ominous, even though it remained calm in the Queen’s presence. “You are certainly correct about eaglesses, and I freely admit I’ve indulged sexually following fights for my life in enemy territory. I even admit to some… unlikely partners in doing so. But that was only after the danger had passed,” she emphasized, then turned to Gilda and glared.

“From what he said, it happened after the corrupted dragon was slain, during the final lull in the battle—and that is what makes it wrong, Centurion. That lull was of unknown length, and you two had responsibilities as Magus and Commander to attend. Had the Cloven caught you both out there alone and in the open, you would have been slaughtered in the middle of sex. And worse, had the Starshina been corrupted, our defenses might well have crumbled with his magical help. Or yours, Centurion, as you knew our preparations, human capabilities and positions,” she pointed out. “It was not the time.”

“Though I am flattered that you think I could overcome your defenses by myself, you give me too much credit, Miles Fortuna,” Karin Kazal offered weakly, sitting by himself near the corner again. “I was far too drained by then to do much.”

“Though normally a valid concern, I can assure you that would not have happened, Senior Scimitar,” Queen Lepidoptes offered. “They were under our protection, as were you all. We were watching and would have intervened if needed.”

“But with all due respect, they didn’t know that, Queen Lepidoptes.” Obsidian Ire was unimpressed, glaring angrily at Gilda. “The Senior Scimitar is right—the battle was not over, and they knew not when the Cloven would come again.”

“I’m afraid I must agree, Centurion,” Giraldi offered cautiously from beside her. “I am not one to speak of poor timing in matters of mating, given what I nearly did with the Shadow Decurion. But had I done so, it would have been dereliction of duty. As our drakina friend says, the battle was far from over, and you had no idea how long the lull would last. Worse, I spent five minutes increasingly certain you were dead, calling to you repeatedly. And now it turns out that you were rutting him in the cove while human and griffon communication methods kept pleading for you to answer?” he recited the damning facts.

This time, Gilda had no reply. Her beak began to quiver, feeling like a cub who had disappointed a parent. She couldn’t help it, given he looked and sounded like a father scolding a teenage cub to whom he had granted trust, only to have it betrayed. Worse, he was someone she looked up to and leaned on, not unlike a father figure. “I’m… I’m sorry…” was all she could think to say, trying not to cry. “It hit me so hard and so fast…” She could only hope that at least he and Fortrakt would remember how powerful the cider compulsion could be.

But Giraldi only shook his head reproachfully. “Even under the influence of the cider, to abandon your post like that for personal indulgence is not acceptable for a soldier of the Kingdom, let alone a Centurion. Had a Guardsgriffon under my command done it, I would have severely reprimanded them, separated them from their partner, and likely demoted them both if they were in positions of responsibility.”

Still unable to speak, Tribune Cipio nodded hard, his eyes all but bulging as he looked ready to launch into a tirade but for the Queen’s presence. But Gilda barely noticed, caring far more about Giraldi’s reaction than his, given how much she respected her longtime First Spear and now-second in command.

“The cider was part of it. But not all of it,” she finally admitted, deciding against explaining that her aborted encounters, which they didn’t know about, kept adding fuel to her fire. Then it’ll sound like all I do is think about sex, which just makes things worse right now… “I can’t explain it and I can’t excuse it. It just… happened. And at the time, it felt like exactly what I needed to happen.”

“Needed?” Fortrakt echoed in disbelief. “By all our Ancestors, he and his comrades were going to cubnap Chris! Perhaps they helped us, but only because they had to! And that’s to say nothing of Marco…” he told her, his dark and dirty feathers ruffling hard. “You betrayed him as well as us! So tell me, Centurion—does he know that you were unfaithful?” He sounded like he was using her rank as a pejorative.

She looked up sharply, finally able to look him in the eye as she felt her emotions surge again, this time in anger. “He does, cub! I told him after I made it back to the hill, when I went down to check on the wounded—I had to! Ancestors knew I couldn’t live with myself if I died without telling him.” She winced at once again contradicting herself, noting the remark earned a smoke-filled snort from Obsidian Ire. “He took it… poorly. At least until Tara talked some sense into him.”

“And she approved?” Fortrakt’s beak fell open further.

Gilda resisted the urge to pull at her own headfeathers in frustration. “Maybe not so much approved as understood. But I won’t speak for her. I’ll just say that without her there…” She shivered, recalling how close she’d come to losing Marco. “It would have ended far differently.”

“I will give you due credit for telling him, Centurion. It was honorable to do so, and I can only imagine how difficult. But that does notmake the act itself honorable,” Giraldi reminded her, and for the first time, she heard a definite undercurrent of anger in his voice. “So just when, by the Ancestors themselves, were you going to tell us about this?” he wanted to know, his tone not just scolding, but now sounding like a sire starting to ponder a punishment for his wayward daughter.

“Never, if I could help it,” Gilda admitted, still unable to meet his accusing gaze. “But not because I regretted it—how could I after all that happened? But because I knew how it would look. And what could happen to both of us.”

“Because it looks like exactly what it is!” Tribune Cipio finally exploded despite the Queen’s warning look. “Clear dereliction of duty and evidence that you can’t control this accursed cider compulsion! Never mind the dishonor of laying with an Ibex, but it could have gotten everycreature killed! So how can you possibly take her side after learning this, Queen Lepidoptes?” He rounded on her.

“Because I already knew,” she replied softly, closing her eyes. “Indeed, my entire hive knew. We could all sense it when it happened: a brilliant beacon of the most intense and unlikely love, occurring even amid such awful carnage and chaos. It was so amazing and wonderful to behold that we all stopped what we were doing for a few moments, just to bask in it.” She smiled at the memory, causing Gilda to blush at the knowledge that they’d been observed from beginning to end by an entire Changeling hive.

“We took not just great heart but great strength from it, as it boosted our power while we stood on the brink of battle. And thus, when we finally did engage, it enabled us to annihilate the Cloven army and Overlord far more swiftly and at no cost. For this, we must thank you both, Centurion and Starshina. And apologize.”

“Apologize…?” Karin Kazal echoed blankly as Gilda turned her gaze on the Changeling Monarch as well. “For watching us?”

“Not just for that,” the Queen said, closing her eyes again. “I know not how you two will take this, but it is time to let you and your comrades know… that the events in that cove were not entirely of your own volition.”

“Not entirely…?” Gilda repeated numbly.

“No. My apologies for not getting the chance to pull you two aside and explain this privately, Starshina and Centurion, but that cove was created specifically by us to induce sex from visiting griffons and ponies. Designed to be both a beautiful and sensual setting, we were using it to harvest love from the trysts that so often occurred there, able to store it in the crystals that lined the waterfall walls we could then drain directly into our hive,” she explained, causing Gilda to look up in surprise.

“Those same crystals were also charged with various enchantments that enhanced passion and desire to make rutting more likely, while the specially cultivated trees and grasses there were magically treated to dampen inhibitions. They were there to make sure that encounters were not regretted while happening, which could taint the love we received,” she explained solemnly, sending Gilda’s psyche reeling again.

She dimly realized that she wasn’t alone, either, as everycreature had fallen silent at the revelation; even Karin Kazal had to sit down heavily. “Though I cannot say to what extent all this affected you two, there is no doubt that it did affect you,” the Queen further explained as Gilda found herself feeling faint, forcing Fortrakt to steady her as she began to wobble. “And thus, what happened there was not entirely of your own choosing.”

“Then you are saying it would not have happened otherwise?” an equally staggered Karin Kazal asked, sounding to Gilda every bit as stunned as she felt.

This time, Queen Lepidoptes hesitated before speaking. “I do not know, Starshina. What I can say with certainty is that the cove did not, by itself, cause it—either due to repeatedly saving each other or the simple fact that a proclivity towards it was already there on both sides, it would not have happened unless an attraction was already present,” she explained. “Understand that not even our magic can induce love where none exists. It can only enhance and enable what was already there. Dramatically enhance, perhaps, but multiplying by zero still gives zero.”

“Then… you’re saying that they already liked each other?” Miles Fortuna gave Gilda an askance look as the latter could only lean against the table and clutch her head, wanting to rip her headfeathers out in frustration.

Ancestors, I’ve been tearing my own brain apart trying to accept and explain it. Trying to DEFEND it! And now it turns out that it might not have been NATURAL? She reeled anew.

The Queen considered her words carefully before replying. “Sexual attraction is not as simple as ‘liked’, Senior Scimitar. There can be any number of reasons for it. It can even happen between beings who otherwise despise each other, which is itself a form of passion.”

“By the Ancestors above, I don’t hate him!” Gilda felt compelled to say at the looks she was getting, but then deflated, hard. “I mean, I did when we first met, but…”

“I should say that you did, given you threatened us with being eaten by the humans,” Karin Kazal pointed out dryly. “And I cannot say that I liked you either, even if I felt a measure of guilt over you.”

“Guilt?” Gilda repeated numbly, finally turning her haunted eyes on him.

“Da. You asked me right before it happened why I saved you from the dragon when it could have cost me my life? It was because, being an Ascendancy Adept, I felt in part responsible for what happened to you and your friends, Centurion,” he admitted softly, waiting until all eyes were on him before continuing.

“I didn’t get the chance to answer your question then, so I will now: As the Capricorn Conclave tried to kill you or at least indirectly cause the death of the humans, I swear before the Ancient Rams of the Rodina that I was trying to atone for what I found by then to be an unconscionable attack… by saving you for your human mate. Only to end up accidentally replacing him, at least for a short time.” He shook his head and laughed softly at the irony. “For which I must now apologize to him, and I swear to do so later.”

“A likely story,” Cipio scoffed, and the three Ravens sneered as well.

“I can tell by his emotions that he means it,” the Queen replied quietly, her horn radiating a calming aura. “Adept or no, he cannot hide his deepest feelings from me, just as I could tell by their emotions at the time that their passion was real. As I have well over a century of experience in matters of the heart, I feel safe in saying that it was a mutual reward for saving each other, as well as a simple celebration of being alive. And just like the Centurion herself, I cannot offer any regret for whatever role we played in it, given the power it imparted us all.”

“Then you are saying that it was Ancestor-sent for you, too?” Gilda barely dared believe.

“Indeed.” In response, the Queen closed her eyes and nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. “It was an incredibly nourishing meal for myself, my drones, and even the eggs we now store below just when we needed it most. So perhaps, by the grace of your Ancestors and our Hive Mother, you two were indeed brought to the cove for that purpose. For in the end, it served us as well as you, and helped doom the Cloven army.”

“I was not aware of that,” Karin Kazal said softly, still sitting off to the side with his head bowed low, staring down at the floor. “For the record, Centurion, I, too, swore an oath to our Ancient Rams while we were chased by the dragon—not to be with you, but to leave the not-always-honorable life of an Adept behind and settle down with my wife and kids, who have asked me to do so repeatedly.”

“You, too?” For the first time, Giraldi sounded sympathetic to him. “I have heard much the same from my Uxor over the years.”

The ibex buck gave him a sideways glance. “Then I would suggest that it is time to take her advice, Optio, should you survive this war. Unfortunately, in my case it is not that simple. The Capricorn Conclave sets the terms of our service. You marry them, first and foremost, and leaving them is not easy.”

“It is much the same for the Ravens,” Miles Fortuna admitted quietly, nodding slowly to herself along with her two lower-ranked comrades. “But typically, we take Raven mates so we can share the life and danger. Indeed, given our high level of combat skill, it would be hard for a mating round with anygriffon but another Raven to arouse us,” she noted to some weak smiles from the other two gray-dyed eaglesses.

“As touching as all this is, this revelation means that your final headfeather is plucked, Centurion Behertz,” Cipio spoke up, his mood calmer as Gilda guessed he sensed he was finally going to get what he wanted—her removal, if not her arrest.

“If you couldn’t even be bothered to pick up a communication gem or fly back to base, abandoning your post in the middle of battle to be with… him, then regardless of the reasons or any side benefits, you are clearly unfit for command! Nothing excuses this, Behertz. Nothing. And I guarantee you that once she knows the truth of this matter, Queen Molyneux will agree.” He leaned his head low over the table as his manner turned something close to smug.

“He’s right, Gilda.” She was stunned when Fortrakt concurred. “You can’t justify this. It will cost you your rank and chain. It could even get you charged with treason and sent down to the mines—if you’re lucky.”

Gilda’s eyes flashed and for the first time since her indiscretions were laid bare, her temper flared along with her headcrest. “Crows take it! I am not guilty of treason, cub, and I’ll duel anycreature who says I am!” She clenched her beak, staring down at the floor as her talons flexed against the chitin-covered surface; it was only then she noted that the furrows her claws carved in it swiftly healed themselves.

As the silence stretched on around her, she considered her options and found them wanting, with the only thing coming immediately to mind being to ask for asylum from Queen Lepidoptes. Though she didn’t think the Queen would decline her request, given how much love her presence along with Marco’s gave her hungry hive, she realized instantly how much trouble that could make for both them and the Kingdom.

I’d be asking them to shelter several Ibexian Adepts who were on an infiltration and cubnapping mission, along with a griffon who could be reasonably seen as a deserter. Or worse, a traitor, she silently knew, and for the first time in a long time, Gilda almost wished she was back in Equestria again, away from her unending litany of trouble in a place where life, dishonor and death didn’t hinge on every decision she made or word she spoke.

Especially since she didn’t see anything she could do or say that would help. They weren’t there, so they can’t know how it happened or why we couldn’t hold back. Their mind is set, and there’s nothing I can do to convince them. Unless… She raised her head to look at the Changeling Monarch.

“Queen Lepidoptes? I respectfully request that you resume replaying my memories,” she asked with a bared throat. “There’s no other way. Let them see and experience for themselves what happened, and why I wouldn’t take it back even if I could.”

“No!” An alarmed Cipio stood and shouted before the Queen silenced him with another spell and a glare.

She exhaled softly before speaking. “I would be happy to, Centurion. Unfortunately, having terminated the last memory replay, I would have to restart the entire process with all present, which would take far longer and require everycreature’s memories to be replayed,” she said apologetically, causing Gilda’s wings and tail to sag towards the floor. “Which I do not recommend, given how many sets of memories it would involve. The untoward effects aside, assimilating too many memories and experiences at once is very difficult for beings unused to doing so. In extreme cases, it could send you into a coma or even cause madness.”

“Then use my spell,” Karin Kazal offered, causing heads to turn towards him. “The Capricorn Conclave has its own set of memory sharing magic that has no such restriction. It is much more limited in that it can only share one set of memories at a time, to a very small number of linked minds. We use it to pass experiences about locations or beings we might have to interact with in advance of missions. The drawback is that even at full power, I cannot safely link myself with more than one or two other minds. But if I share the spell with you…” His voice trailed off meaningfully.

“Then given my much greater power, I can share the Centurion’s memories with everycreature else using the same spell.” The Queen nodded thoughtfully. “Very well. I am willing if the Centurion is. And if all present are willing to participate,” she hastened to add. “I would not force this on any of you except the Tribune, but I would ask that you stay. To experience all that she did, and then decide if she could have stopped it or was being any way dishonorable.”

“With respect, Queen Lepidoptes, I am really not interested in reliving another creature’s rutting,” Obsidian Ire said again.

“And I am not interested in trusting the magic of a Capricorn Adept. Particularly with any spell regarding memory, given he invaded my mind once already!” Miles Fortuna spat out, earning a glare from Karin Kazal.

“In case you forgot, you gave us away to the Cloven, you idiot eagless! I did so only at the Centurion’s order—we had to determine whether you were trying to get us all killed!”

“And in case you forgot, it was on his orders I did that, you crow-cursed goat!” she pointed an accusing talon at him, and then at the Tribune, who was still silenced. “I didn’t do it because I wanted to!”

“Then tell us all, Miles Fortuna—did I probe your mind too deeply? Did I extract anything but the information we needed? The information the Centurion ordered?” the Starshina challenged her.

“Not that I could tell,” she grudgingly admitted with a clenched beak and glare at Gilda, her tail twitching with remembered anger. “But as you also boasted about your mental lockpicking skills, that doesn’t mean I’m certain.”

“I am,” the Queen replied before he could retort. “He is sincere, Senior Scimitar. And I hope I have shown by now that my power is not so easily overcome or corrupted. Or my ability to read emotions so readily fooled.”

Despite her words, Miles Fortuna gave him a baleful look. “If anycreature could do it, he could. And I don’t trust him not to modify her memories,” she claimed, earning an eyeroll along with a derisive bleat.

“Perhaps you are not well-versed in magic, but I cannot possibly do that, Senior Scimitar. The nature of this spell is that I can only replay, not modify. And even if I could change her memories ‘on the fly’, as you call it, the difference in how we perceive through our senses as races would make any alteration very artificial and immediately obvious.”

“As it is the same for our own memory magic, he speaks true,” the Queen replied. “So be it. I will consent to this, and though I cannot require it, I ask that all of you do so as well,” she said as she swept her gaze over the room, noticing as Gilda did several expressions of distaste and uncomfortable shifts of stance.

Miles Fortuna glanced at her two Raven comrades before answering, both of whom gave her a look of at least mild revulsion. “With respect, Queen Lepidoptes, I think I may safely speak for my fellow Ravens when I say that just like Obsidian Ire, we are not interested in experiencing an eagless rutting an Ibex.”

“As they say,” the tall drakina added. “I respectfully decline.”

“I…” Fortrakt suddenly seemed strangely flustered despite his fatigued state, his tail and wingfeathers twitching. “With respect, Centurion, I don’t see how this would help your case.”

“Nor do I,” Giraldi looked equally unsure. “With respect to you and the Centurion, Queen Lepidoptes, it seems like little more than an attempt to dazzle or confuse us with intense sensations, trying to provoke an emotional reaction that would cloud the real question here. Regardless of their intensity, a commander cannot act on their emotions or desires in battle.”

“I readily admit that is the ideal, Galen Giraldi. But in truth, it is rarely realized, even for veteran soldiers like you. Need I remind you of how close you came to acting on your own cider-fueled passions, as shown during our earlier replay?” she pointed out calmly, causing Giraldi to look away. “And I would also mention that not acting on emotions is exactly what the Tribune did with regards to your troops, willing to sacrifice all of you without any remorse in hopes of gaining a greater victory. Which is what caused this conflict in the first place.”

The room fell silent again. Perhaps sensing she had everycreature’s attention, the Changeling Monarch pressed her advantage. “It is sometimes said by griffons that you cannot judge another creature without flying a league in their wings. It is a wise adage, and I would submit that this is an excellent example of it. So therefore, in order to judge her actions properly, I now ask that all of you fly that league, even at the cost of personal discomfort. As I told the Tribune earlier, consider it an exercise in empathy. For if there is anything Changelings can offer the greater world of Tellus, it is that.”

As Gilda held her breath, nobody replied immediately. They instead looked around at each other, gauging opinions by dubious and often distasteful facial expressions.

Finally, Fortrakt exhaled heavily and stepped forward. “I’ve been the Centurion’s partner for nearly half a year now. We’ve shared and done everything together, serving and fighting at each other’s side. So even though I don’t know how it can help, I feel I owe her the benefit of the doubt. Exhausted though I am, I’m in, Queen Lepidoptes.” He bared his throat at her.

She nodded gravely as a grateful Gilda bared her throat at him in turn. “Very well, Decurion. But as you will require a degree of focus for your mind to remain a proper part of the spellwork, I direct that you drink this first.” She materialized a fresh flask filled with a dark and fizzy liquid, which she then poured into a bowl; Gilda’s nose twitched at the now-familiar scent of the same effervescent brew that Archon Archex had served to her and Marco. “It is yet another beverage of our own design that will give you a temporary energy boost, which I can purge from you later so you can rest.”

“By your command,” he said obediently, accepting the proffered bowl which he sniffed at and then dipped his beak for a tentative sip, blinking at the taste. “Huh. That’s good,” he said in some surprise, then took a longer draw. “If it’s an energy brew, I think it’s even better than our switchel.”

A slowly nodding Giraldi stepped up next. “As the Centurion’s second, it is my duty to stand at her side. Having seen her bravery and brilliance in battle firstwing, I cannot fathom why she would do something so seemingly insane or how it could be justified. But your point about flying a league in another’s wings is well-taken, Queen Lepidoptes. For delivering all of us from Bale alone, I owe it to the Centurion to learn. To try to understand her actions. So I, too, will participate.”

This time, it was Gilda who exhaled heavily. “Thank you, Optio. And you too, Decurion,” she took pains to tell them, already feeling at least a small measure of relief that her two closest comrades were willing, though she only received a terse glance and nod back.

“With your words, you prove yourself a superb soldier and honorable griffon yet again, Galen Giraldi,” the Queen complimented him. “And the rest of you? I remind you again that none but the Tribune are required to stay,” she said, to which Cipio gave her a shocked look.

She gave him a reproachful one back, restraining his limbs and wings when he looked like he was about to bolt out the opposite door, levitating him back into the air. “I tried to spare you this, Tribune, but as it is now clear you refuse to see the Centurion’s side of things for very poor personal reasons, I have no choice but to force you to do so. Consider it part of your penance for insulting me and your underlings, Cauda Cipio. For you, more than anycreature here, need such lessons in empathy as to make you both a better leader and lover. In so doing, you will serve the needs of both the Kingdom, and my hive.”

“No!” he shouted in something approaching panic as he suddenly bobbed his head hard in place of his spell-frozen limbs, tapping something on his chest with a sharp click. Gilda felt a sudden magical flare erupt from a crystal hidden beneath his formal uniform shortly before a second flare answered, this one originating from outside the meeting room.

Before anycreature else could say anything, the edges of the double door behind him glowed and were then flung inward, the enchanted locks shattering with a series of splintering sounds. And in their wake rushed the eagless mage flanked by the two Paladins, who went for their weapons while the Magus reared up to point her stave directly at the Changeling Monarch.

“We received your summons, Tribune! Now release him at once, Queen Lepidoptes,” the Senior Stave warned, the end of her staff crackling with what Gilda recognized as a very powerful stun spell while her two Paladins leveled heavy repeating crossbows notched with a mixture of electrical and magic-nullifying amethyst-tipped arrows. “I do not wish to harm you or any of your drones. But by my Ancestors, I cannot let you harm him.”

The Queen was unimpressed by the display, waving her Silencers aside when they interposed themselves, their black, pupil-less gazes locked with the two Paladins who eyed them warily along with the blades on their backs.

“I understand and accept that you are doing your duty, Magus. But I remind you and your Paladin guards that by order of Queen Molyneux, my airship is a foreign embassy, representing a nation of which I am the sovereign ruler. It is my word that is law here, not the Tribune’s. And my order is for you to lower your weapons and step back immediately. Be assured that Tribune Cipio is safe in my presence, as are you all.”

“I cannot accept your assurance when it was the Tribune who summoned me and is clearly in distress, trapped in your aura! Now let him go! I am under his authority, not yours!” She intensified the static crackle of her stave, threatening to loose not just a single bolt but a storm of them.

“Then let’s try it under my authority,” Gilda felt herself rediscover her nerve and attitude, baring her throat to show off her chain. “By my order, stand down, Magus and Paladins. The Tribune offended the Queen in my presence, and thus caused a diplomatic incident with an important ally. This is now a diplomatic matter, meaning my command chain holds sway.”

But her ire was raised as her words were only met with scorn. “Crows take your chain! I do not recognize your authority, Grizelda Behertz, only his! The Tribune summoned us, and it is quite clear why! Now I again order you to release him at once!” The Senior Stave spun her staff once for emphasis to produce a trail of arcing electrical sparks in the air.

But the Queen remained unmoved at her defiance, holding up a gilded hoof and reinforcing the gesture with gentle mental pressure to remain calm. “Your loyalty does you credit, Magus, as does the loyalty the Tribune inspires. But it also blinds you. He is calling for help because he fears not what I will do to him, but what he will be made to feel,” she emphasized, causing the Tribune’s cheeks to flush. “As acting on the basis of such fears could cripple the city’s defense, I am going to help him past that. No more and no less.”

“Say whatever you wish, but the fact remains that as a shapeshifting seductress, deception is your entire way of life! Move away from him. Now,” the striking leopard-spotted Magus ordered again, leveling her staff from an upright stance directly at the strangely unperturbed Queen, who simply stared at her for a moment before smiling and chuckling softly.

“My apologies. I mean no disrespect. It has simply been a very long time since one of my line faced down a griffon Magus, Senior Stave. It may interest you to know that to this point, the first and only time we did so was in the tunnels beneath Mosclaw, when the Gryphon Empire drove us from our original home. It was there that my great-great-grandmother, Queen Scylia Lepidoptes the IVth, was confronted by one of your mightiest Magus of history—the future Archmagus Camilea Aeylyn herself.”

Though Gilda found the name only barely familiar—she dimly recalled that it belonged to a famous Magus whose statue was out front of Arnau’s Magus Academy—its invocation caused the Senior Stave’s eyes to briefly go wide before narrowing again.

“So you once fought an eagless who eventually turned traitor. Am I supposed to be impressed?”

The Queen’s eyes narrowed in turn. “Do not slander her name in my presence again, for she ultimately proved as honorable as she was magically gifted. I mention her to point out that not even she could overcome my ancestor, whose memories I share and whose power I equal or exceed,” she answered with far more patience than Gilda felt. “I mention her to make you see reason—that if she could not overcome me, then there is no chance that you could.”

“We will see. Ravens! Help me secure the Tribune from this shapeshifting enchantress!”

But after glancing at her two comrades, who were being watched closely by the Silencer and Archon pairs in turn, Miles Fortuna closed her eyes and shook her head. “I decline. I know not the Tribune’s affront, but I witnessed enough to know that the Queen means us no harm. She tried to mediate this dispute, but the Tribune refused to see reason. In any event, the Centurion is correct—as this is a diplomatic affair, it is her chain and not the Tribune’s that holds sway in dealing with the Changelings. It is also clear that you do not know or respect the Queen’s power. So before you find out the hard way, I strongly suggest that you obey the order to stand down.”

“Please don’t fight her…” the previously quiet Optio Rubens Virgo spoke up. She had fallen silent upon hearing the news of the Centurion and Starshina, sitting down heavily and shaking while staring off at nothing in particular, leaving Gilda the impression that she was trying and failing to process the latest revelation of Gilda’s love life. “I was here the whole time. I swear by the Ancestors themselves that the Queen isn’t going to hurt him!” she said half-frantically, trying to interpose herself only to be ignored by the Magus and then gently moved aside by a silencer’s aura with a polite request to stay where she was.

“She’s not lying about the Queen’s power,” Obsidian Ire spoke up, having not moved from where she stood against the wall behind Gilda, still staring at the scene over crossed arms. “And as for the Tribune, as he has done nothing but disrespect and insult us over the course of this meeting, I say the Queen can do what she pleases with him,” she announced, earning a shocked, then angry look from the Tribune.

For her part, the Senior Stave’s brilliant blue eyes narrowed. “I strongly suggest you watch your forked tongue, drakina. And don’t think for one second that I can’t deal with you, too.”

But before the hissing dragon female could reply, Karin Kazal stepped forward next. “You will have to deal with all of us, Magus. So if you still wish to have a contest of aura, I will grant it right now. Attack the Queen, and you go through me,” he warned, lowering his head and setting his antlers aglow in an equally powerful display, sending flames that were somehow ice-cold dancing around his horns.

“Then the Tribune was right—everycreature in this room is insubordinate and insane! If I have to take down everycreature here, be assured that I can and I will! Final warning, Queen Lepidoptes—release the Tribune, now!” She wrapped herself in a shield spell that was then encased in purple-crackling electricity that raised the crest of Gilda’s headfeathers, threatening to lose them in every direction except the Tribune’s as Karin Kazal likewise intensified his own elemental display.

But once again, the Queen was unmoved despite the conflict of coruscating magical energies. “Stand down, Starshina. Stand down, my loyal drones.” She further reinforced a mental command with a spoken one, causing her Silencers and sentries to retreat into the corners. Karin Kazal obeyed as well, if more reluctantly, depowering his antlers and stepping back.

“By your command,” he said with a parting glower, guessing as Gilda did that the Queen had her own means of dealing with the magical threat.

But if she did, she gave no immediate indication. Instead, she gently lowered the Tribune to the floor and released him from her aura before returning her attention to the striking leopard-spotted eagless facing her. “An impressive display, Senior Stave Diva Desiderii. You are clearly well-learned in your craft, and there is no doubt that griffon magical prowess has advanced considerably in the past seven centuries. But so has ours, and as such, your unusually potent power is one I can turn against you,” she said almost lazily, causing Gilda to exchange an uncertain glance with Giraldi and Fortrakt.

In response, the Magus, who had only barely lowered her still-crackling staff, raised it again while the two Paladins went to attend the Tribune, trying to help him up. But he shook off their talons and forced himself to rise, still trembling violently. “You will try nothing,” the eagless warned, covering the two elite soldiers with her magic. “And we will be leaving right now.”

“No, I’m afraid that you will not,” the Queen said matter-of-factly, sending the broken doors back into place with a fresh wave of aura that slammed them shut and resealed the locks, then reinforced the barrier with additional magic. “There is unfinished business here between not just the Tribune and Centurion, but the Tribune and myself. There will be an agreement reached here before you leave. And the Tribune will not only atone for his offense but see just how much of a fear-ridden fool he’s being.”

“How dare you…” The Magus began to threaten again, this time enveloping not just herself, but the Tribune and his two Paladin guards in a shimmering shield. “Simply locking me in won’t stop me, Queen Lepidoptes. If you wish, I could blast right through the ceiling and levitate us all away!” She aimed her stave upwards, readying what Gilda could sense was a massively powerful lightning bolt.

But once again, the Queen just gave her a knowing nod. “I’m sure you could, Magus. I took the measure of your considerable power the moment you stepped inside. You are right to take pride in it. But it is still no match for me. And given its cargo, I would greatly prefer that you did not damage my airship,” she said again, speaking more quietly.

“And I don’t especially want to cause trouble with a needed ally. But I will have no choice, unless you release us immediately,” the Senior Stave said again. “I answer to the Tribune, not to you! Now let us go!”

“This is my hive and my home, and you do not have the right to remove the Tribune without permission. You have been ordered to stand down by both myself and the Centurion, so I offer you one final chance to do so.” The Queen still did not relent.

“I will be leaving!” Cipio stated, trying to still his visible shaking. “And be assured, the Queen will hear of this! She will hear of everything that happened here!”

“Then she will hear the tainted account of a tired Tribune acting like a teenage eagless unable to deal with her first heat,” Gilda decided to insult him going out the door. “And the Queen will still hear my side of the story!”

“Well-put, Centurion. But worry not—it won’t come to that. I believe it was the pony Sun Master who said that the greatest of all military virtues was to win without fighting, and those are words I have long taken to heart,” she mused almost idly, and for the first time since the eagless Magus barged in, the Queen’s horn ignited, to which the eagless instantly reinforced her defensive wards, now holding her glowing staff horizontally before her.

“For you see, in the decades and centuries that followed the great pony/griffon war that nearly consumed us, we sought new and better ways to defend our hive, without resorting to the violence whose ugly emotions could poison our drones. Or worse, endanger our unhatched eggs,” Queen Lepidotpes said, a sudden gleam in her eyes beginning to grow.

“I am pleased to say that we succeeded. Over time, we developed a means to incapacitate our enemies by using their own auras against them, drawing out their hidden passions in the process and turning them to far more… productive ends. So, my powerful but overconfident Magus, let me show you all how Changelings could wage war without suffering or inflicting so much as a single casualty…”

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 38 (M-rated)
===> next: Chapter 38 (T-rated)