22 Hot Moon 1008

If there was one thing Ludvig hated about Turhamn, it was the rain. Even in the summer, it never stopped raining, with the exception of a few swelteringly hot days, maybe two weeks in total, between Thunder Moon and Barley Moon.

At least Everfrost, for all that it did homage to its name from Harvest Moon to Sap Moon, had a pretty dry summer as well. And the snow was unpleasantly cold, but warm enough clothes and a good fire had kept it away. But nothing prevented Ludvig from being rained on.

With a soft curse, he pulled his cloak a little tighter around him. The wet stones under his boots were slippery and not completely stable, and Ludvig had no intention of falling on his beak.

I swear to the Lady. if this informant was wrong, I will turn his body into mincemeat.

Ludvig turned right, departing from the street into an alleyway. He tensed for a moment, assessing the dark alley with his claw on the grip of his sword.

When, after a few seconds of waiting, nothing came forward, Ludvig allowed his grip to relax. For the time being, everything seemed clear.

Still alert, he continued on into the alley. For being quite far away from the centre of Turhamn, it was surprisingly clean.

Curiously clean.

Suspiciously clean.

Suddenly, a door opened. Ludvig dove to the side as a griffon poked his head out of it, trusting on the enchantments of his cloak, the darkness of the alleyway and the rain to keep himself hidden from sight.

The griffon pulled his head back after a moment, and then stepped outside fully. He wore a black cloak and some similarly-dark clothes underneath, or so it at least appeared. Ludvig couldn’t see if the griffon was carrying a weapon, but he didn’t think so. Perhaps a clawgun, but no more than that.

Ludvig considered his options. He could trust in his cloak to allow the griffon to pass by without seeing him, or he could step out of the shadows and act. A quick glance over his shoulder showed no one was passing by the alleyway.

The griffon turned and locked the door.

Here goes nothing.

With a burst of speed, Ludvig crossed the distance between him and the other griffon. Before he could react, Ludvig knocked him out with a single punch. The griffon would have fallen against the door, if Ludvig hadn’t caught him and dragged him into the shadows instead.

Once he was sure he wouldn’t be seen, Ludvig began to search in the griffon’s clothes. He quickly found the key of the door, as well as the evidence that confirmed his informant’s claims: this was a dark magic cult.

With a sigh, Ludvig turned away from the griffon and approached the door. The key effortlessly slid into the hole, and after figuring out which way he had to turn it, the door opened.

Ludvig poked his head around the edge and saw a stairway, again immaculately cleaned, leading up into the building. As soon as he set a claw inside the building, he felt a shiver run up his back.

Right then, time to do the Vakt’s job for them again.

Ludvig preemptively drew his sword, holding it ready should anything appear to be in acute need of a treatment by it. With that, he carefully walked to and up the stairs.

Once he had finished climbing them, he - predictably - was greeted by a hallway. Strangely, there was only one door, all the way at the end of the hallway. Ludvig scowled as he felt the dark magic emanating from that door.

Ludvig advanced on the door as softly as he could. Luckily, the planks forming the floor didn’t creak or otherwise work in tandem with his body to create something that might be able to alert the possible contents of the room he was approaching.

Ludvig laid his claw on the door, and pushed.

The door opened.

Someone screamed, and a dark shape charged him.

Without looking Ludvig raised his sword and cut down the charging figure, sidestepping it’s corpse as he paused to assess the room.

Seven cultists, all wearing the same dark clothes as the one he’d knocked out. Another one was on the floor, bleeding from his single cut. Terrific.

‘’Right then,’’ Ludvig said, managing a smile, ‘’what do we have here?’’

‘’Kill him!’’ one of the cultists shouted, and they all pulled out long, wicked daggers, before charging at him.

Ludvig parried the first attack, cut off three claws at once, swatted someone away with his empty claw, and by that point the rest decided to throw their blades.

‘’Wise,’’ Ludvig remarked. ‘’Though I was expecting a better challenge, it has to be said.’’

|-x-X-x-|

29 Hot Moon 1008

‘’Welcome to De Vleugels, Prince Stridande,’’ Gerlach greeted, rising from his throne. Gabriella rose with him, putting on her best smile for the Vedinian delegate.

Prince Stridande bowed, as was customary. ‘’It is an honour to be here, grand duke, grand duchess.’’

‘’Did you have an amicable journey?’’ Gabriella inquired.

‘’I did,’’ Stridande replied. ‘’The train was most comfortable.’’

‘’That is good to hear,’’ Gerlach said, taking over again. ‘’Shall we continue this discussion in a more relaxed setting?’’

‘’Of course.’’

It was the dance of nobility, as old as the concept itself. Sometimes exhilarating, sometimes mind numbingly boring. But always intriguing. And Gabriella loved every minute of it.

They’d picked the dining hall to meet with Stridande. If the negotiations lasted longer than expected, they could simply have food brought in to continue without having to pause. Gabriella’s only concern was that Grover might get sad if she or Gerlach didn’t visit him, but there was nothing they could do about that.

‘’Please, have a seat,’’ Gerlach offered, before pulling out the seat next to his own for Gabriella, like the gentlegriff he was.

‘’Thank you,’’ Stridande agreed, sitting down as well.

‘’Wine?’’ Gabriella offered.

‘’Please.’’

With a snap of her claws, Gabriella summoned a servant and commanded him to serve some wine. As they waited for said wine to arrive, Gabriella let her eyes wander across the paintings decorating the wall, admiring the skill of the painters to represent those Weijermars of past days. From Gerlach I the Negotiator, who united the fractured duchies and baronies of Feathisia into one realm, to Godrin the Explorer, who led the first fleets down to Zebrica, establishing contacts with Hippogriffia and even far-away Kiria.

‘’My lords, my lady, the wine.’’

Ah.

‘’Thank you,’’ Gabriella said, taking the glass once it had been poured full. The rich scent of authentic Strawberry Wine entered her nose, and she couldn’t help but sigh as the warm liquid fell down her throat.

‘’Shall we begin?’’ Gerlach suggested. ‘’We’ve plenty to discuss, after all.’’

‘’Very true,’’ Stridande agreed. ‘’Let’s start with the business at claw: the so-called ‘Lord-Protector’ in Griffinheim.’’

Gabriella balled her claw as thoughts of revenge on that murderous, insane bastard flowed through her mind. He was contained in the lands around Griffinheim for now, but he was going to try to break free eventually. That was why they needed Vedina.

Of course, the Vedinians knew that. That’s why they had sent a prince-general to negotiate instead of just a prince or a royal delegate.

Gabriella placed her glass on the table. Here goes nothing.

|-x-X-x-|

2 Thunder Moon 1008

‘’It’s a pleasure to meet you, madam Gaudreau,’’ Jet said as he offered the griffoness his hoof.

The claw he got in response was firm and warm. ‘’The pleasure is all mine, monsieur President,’’ Cécile Gaudreau replied. ‘’And thank you for travelling all the way here.’’

Over the past three months, the Aquileian refugees had been spread throughout the towns of New South Bales, most notably Canmarea, the capital of the province. Per agreement, no Aquileian was allowed to leave New South Bales, though Jet Set was certain a few had done so regardless, either ignorant or uncaring of the rule. As long as the amount was kept to a manageable level, it wasn’t too much of a problem.

‘’Of course, though I must apologize for the delay in our meeting,’’ Jet said.

‘’It is no problem,’’ Cécile Gaudreau replied. ‘’Ruling a nation, especially in turbulent times as these, is a time-consuming task, and I would not want to take your attention away from it.’’

‘’I don’t disagree,’’ Jet remarked, ‘’but this is also important, and I can’t let you and your people languish here, ignored.’’

‘’Quite,’’ Cécile Gaudreau agreed. ‘’We have managed well enough. The ponies here have been very kind and generous.’’

‘’Well, I’ll be sure to tell the Governor that the next time I see him,’’ Jet said. ‘’For now, let’s move on to the main topic of today.’’

Cécile Gaudreau inclined her head. ‘’Indeed, let’s.’’

They sat down in comfortable chairs, and then the negotiating could start in earnest.

‘’You cannot continue your war from New Mareland,’’ was the first thing Jet told the griffoness. ‘’I respect your struggle, but I will not have my nation dragged into a war that isn’t ours.’’

‘’I would not ask so,’’ Cécile Gaudreau said. ‘’You are right that it is not your fight. The others in the Conseil révolutionnaire d’Aquilée might not see it that way, but I do.’’

Well, that was a start, at least. There were still a great many things to discuss, but this was the most important.

‘’That is good,’’ Jet replied. ‘’Will it remain that way?’’

Cécile shrugged. ‘’I’ll do my best, monsieur President, but I am only one griffoness.’’

‘’And a very fine one at that,’’ Jet quipped.

‘’Indeed!’’ Cécile laughed. ‘’But you have my promise that I shall ensure the Discrets have no cause to go to war with you.’’

And, in the end, that was all Jet could ask for, on that front.

|-x-X-x-|

10 Thunder Moon 1008

Arclight was many things. Director of the OHS, for one. Stallion of great importance, for two. Lonely, always.

But one thing he found himself being far too often for his liking was concerned. And right now, he was very concerned.

There were several reports on his desk, from agents all across the Riverlands. They all had a common topic; prophecy.

The Wave-Gazers of Bakara, the Conclave of Divination of Wittenland, the Fate-Weavers of Deponya, the Stone-Seers of Diamond Mountain and various Oracles in Nimbusia had all, over the past days, received a mostly-similar vision of doom and darkness.

Now, one such vision would have been concerning enough, but it seemed that everyone with a modicum of precognition ability was getting the same dream. That was downright disturbing.

There wasn’t much Arclight could do about it; visions rarely gave actionable intelligence, and this one was no different. He couldn’t do much against ‘darkness’, except for turning on the lights.

Well, he would try his best regardless. And that included increasing operations outside the River Coalition. Of course the main focus would still be on the member states of the Coalition, but there were threats outside it that could not be ignored any longer.

Arclight reached over and pulled an empty piece of paper and a pen towards him. He needed to plan.

Author's Note

Two chapters in a day, because why not?