Author's Note

Good Afternoon. Sorry for the lateness in which this was uploaded. But my editor and I found some last-minute issues that needed to be worked out.

We are getting close, I would say we are halfway through the first book at this point. No of you may know this, but I began sketching out the idea of this story in November, back in 2019. So this month holds some significance for me.

Thank you for keeping me going, guys, and maybe gals. I am so so grateful.

As always, leave a comment. Those of you on the fence about whether to give a like or not...hang on to it a little while longer. This may all turn to shit. Lmao.

Thanks again.

Peace.

Letting Go

The ornate, heavy doors of black wood swung open, and a griffon of black fur and feathers in black armor stepped through and surveyed the gathered attendees. His gaze swept across the crowd slowly before he turned to face the entrance smartly.

"Behold, Lady Margarete Rosebreast. Defender of The Icewall, Attendant of Seacrest." He declared loudly.

"All too full of yourself, as usual, Margarete.” Muttered Dorethea. “Careful, young Orion, she is vain beyond the normal preening of a cock ready to roost." She whispered before taking a step away from him and slipping into the crowd, almost like water.

For an old hen, she was rather spry for her age. However, as he turned around to wait for the bitch of the hour to walk through the door, he realized something. Eighty was not that ancient for a denizen of this world.

"Man, Gilf enthusiasts would go head over heels in this place."

The next to walk through was a pair of servants in black serving garments. An even blacker tabard with the house emblem stitched in red across the chest. A heart in thorns with two arrows piercing through it. Stepping apart, they turned to one another and bowed low; with that, their host of the evening finally stepped into the grand hall.

In truth, he had expected a crone. Some elderly bird person that looked like they were already three steps into the grave. That was not to be the case.

First, she was tall for a griffon, nearly the same height as Sigurd himself. Neither one was close to topping him. Yet despite him being the biggest thin in the room, she walked in with the same presence that Orion had felt from the King the first night in Griffonstone.

As everyone bowed, including himself, he took note of her features.

Besides her height, she was slim like most griffons were, but there was a willowy beauty to her form, like a supermodel that had been born with just the right genetics to never have to work for it. By his current and slowly changing standards, she was beautiful. He had expected a supervillain-ish visage; instead, she had a soft smile on a thin beak and kind green eyes as she swept them over the assembled crowd.

Her gaze touched him at that moment, and they lit up in what he could call delight. It was very unnerving. All the things he had heard about this lady spoke to her devious nature. But what he was seeing was completely opposite of what he had been told. That is what had alarm bells ringing between his ears.

“This bitch is good.”

Rosebreast came to a halt in the center of the half-circle of bodies and gave a slight curtsey of acknowledgment, and they all rose with her. As he returned to his full height, he noticed that her top was open, displaying a rosy red heart pattern between her breast.

If he could point her out as any type of bird cat, he would say she looked like a pigeon, but what did he know about ornithology?

"Thank you kindly for the warm greetings, and I do apologize for my tardiness. I am afraid the evening's plans were more involved than I originally believed." Her voice was smooth and had the perfect level of contrite humbleness that was destroying the idea that she is involved in any planning of an assassination.

The little hairs on the back of his neck were beginning to rise. It was too humble. Too polite. The original self-doubt that had been settling in his stomach vanished. Orion could nearly smell the piles of bullshit under the roses she was laying down. There was very little doubt about who he was soon to be confronting. However, it was alarming just how skilled she was at it. He would never have seen it if he had not been looking for the duplicity.

"Dinner shall be held in the Hunter's Hall. If you would follow me, I shall direct you personally." That got murmurs of approval.

He caught a glimpse of Screaming's face and was surprised to find her utterly composed. If anything, she had a small smile on her face. Had he missed something?

They followed their hostess out of the grand receiving hall and into the wide warren of passageways of the manor in no particular order. Many were having quiet conversations with one another. Orion, however, was deep in thought.

"I'm just barely dipping my toes…well, hoof tips, into this mess. There is a level of sophistication I am clearly missing here." His friend's face was making him paranoid.

Rosebreast seemed to be looking rather satisfied with herself, from what he could see as she engaged those just behind her in the crowd. But it was not the arrogant satisfaction that he had come to expect with most nobles. The calm, cool contentment of all things as they should be was all that seemed to radiate from her without any of the arrogance that normally came with it.

She turned them right, then left, before finally finding the right pair of double doors in the same rich dark wood as the walls. Pushing it open with a flourish, she stood to one side and beckoned her guests in with a kind smile. As others filed in, he gave one last look to his friend and shot her a grin. Screaming for her part gave back a smug smile.

Now he knew why her smile in the grand hall had been much like a cat that had gotten the cream.

Turning toward the door again, he found Rosebreast was wearing a small frown on her own face. Did someone say something that bothered her? He stepped forward in the press of bodies and into the dining hall.

The room was nowhere near as big as the receiving hall they had come from, but it was just as beautiful. The same wood panel walls, though a much lighter color than the halls they passed to get there. Large arched windows stood at regular intervals that displayed a view of some gardens that were cast in shadow from the failing sunlight.

A collection of tables formed into one spanned the length of the room. All with ornate cushioned seats and a collection of silverware before them. Name placards of paper sat before each chair.

There were tapestries and paintings, of course, depicting great battles and events likely from Rosebreast's own family history.

However, none of that was really the focus of the chamber. It was the mounted heads of animals and the stuffed forms of vicious beasts that dotted the walls that pulled the eye.

It was the reason he was fighting the grin on his face now, Orion had caught a glimpse when she had opened the door for them. And why Rosebreast had chosen this room for the evening meal. She was attempting to make him uncomfortable, likely terrify him.

That was her game. Rather than be the dark and foreboding force he had been warned about, she was attempting to be seen as kind, and warm, while making a mistake about certain decorations.

It was very hard to keep from laughing. Decorum was still a new practice for him, being used to just saying whatever came to mind. Instead of searching for his name, he let others find their seats and chose to approach the two taxidermied animals he had first spotted, a manticore and a bear.

The bear was big, really big. Grizzlies would cower at this thing’s approach. Gray and covered in thick hair that seemed to act as armor, its paws were bigger than his torso. Long, wickedly sharp-looking claws as wide as his forearm seemed to strike out for him despite it being long since dead.

The manticore had the exact same look his natural science books had drawn in them. Though the coloring of its stinger, a normal greenish-black, was now faded to the point of being solid gray.

A placard at each stuffed creature's paws held the date they were killed, and the reason. His lips tightened at the manticore's reason for death. A sport hunting event.

While hunting had never been his thing, he still shared his grandfather's view on the practice. Only hunt to feed yourself or protect your lands from a dangerous predator. Rosebreast's ancestors had purposefully gone after this beast purely for the sport of it.

"I am sorry, but are these upsetting you?" She had been waiting for this, and he had noticed her approach through the crowd.

"Thank you, Radar."

"The taxidermy? No, your Ladyship. I am only bothered by the fact that this one's death came because of sport and not because it was a threat." He had yet to look at her, but through the enchantment, he could see her jerk her head back in surprise.

Rosebreast recovered well, though.

"You see it as a crime?" She redirected, stepping more into his line of sight.

"Not in particular. I just see it as a waste. This creature had yet to bother anyone. Now, if it was potentially threatening a farming community or a town, I can see why it would need to be ended, or at the very least, rerouted." He touched the placard. "But if that were the case, I would wish this," his hand traced the lettering, "would tell that. Otherwise, the exercise was a waste and put people's lives in danger needlessly. Considering this society's history, this was a frivolous indulgence."

It was complete word vomit. However, he did believe in its core. Don't hunt unless necessary.

However, that was beside the point. As they were heading to her manor, he had given great thought to how to put her off and keep her that way. He had come up with nothing.

Instead, it was like she had gift-wrapped a nuanced issue just for him. One he could take full advantage of.

"So the act itself…does not trouble you?" A curious expression was on her face.

"No, your Ladyship. I am not bothered by hunting. I suppose it's not common knowledge here as it is back in Canterlot, but I am an omnivore. Though I mostly make do with fish at the moment." He grinned slightly, letting the sharp parts of his incisors show. "I have been enjoying my stay here greatly. I may have to beg the Matron of my home to put in an order of meat from Griffonia."

To her credit, she did not recoil, nor call him on what he said. She just tapped her beak with a claw and nodded thoughtfully.

Did all griffons do that tapping thing?

"I had heard the rumors but had been hesitant to put any faith in those tales. Thank you for giving them credence." He bowed to her, not as deep as in the grand hall, but still respectable. "Come, everyone else has already taken their seats. Please, join us." She smiled warmly, but he had seen the snake in her eye. The Lady of the Icewall was not a happy camper.

"My apologies, your Ladyship." He turned and nearly sighed. Of course, his position was right next to the head of the table, where she was to be seated.

Further down, and on his side of the seating arrangements, was Screaming. They had been sat in such a way that neither one could see the other. He was meant to be isolated and alone. He owed Eberhard five bits.

Dammit.

Taking his place, he unbuttoned the two bottom buttons and sat. Jacques was right, the jacket allowed for more than enough room for him to sit comfortably.

Rosebreast stood at the end of the table and picked up a little bell. "Thank you for joining us. Forgive the unusual seating arrangements, my friends. Mr. Falls here is a rather unique guest, and I wish to have an opportunity to meet with him before you all take his time up completely." She smiled warmly, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Her remarks got the expected chuckles and soft laughter of nobles, no doubt knowing the real reason why he was there.

Giving the bell a single shake, she soon joined them in parking her rear in a very gaudy chair. Rubies and sapphires etched out the pattern of a weird fire on the headboard. The rest of the wood was etched with soldiers and war.

She was certainly setting a theme with the tapestries, paintings, and now this chair. Most of those images were of battles between griffons and ponies, and the ponies were thoroughly being beaten.

Rather than doing what she originally claimed, she turned to the very lord he had first spoken to. Lord Ironbark gave more than a few glances his way in hidden anger, a frown on his face.

So much for the headway, he had gained with him. Figuring that listening in on that conversation would only be more bait, he turned to see who he had been sat next to.

A pretty petite young griffon hen with bright golden eyes smiled demurely at him. Around her eyes sparkled a pale red eyeshadow. Her ear tips too. The hen’s silk and gold trimmed dress was cut so low that her moderate bust threatened to spill out entirely.

When he was first attending school in Manehattan, he had discovered that because griffons did not lay eggs, despite their avian heritage, they instead produced milk. Which meant they breastfed their offspring.

"Jesus Christ, girl. Pull your damn shirt up. I can practically see the fucking nipple!"

Orion smiled politely.

"Evening, Lady…?" He asked, with an arched eyebrow.

"Lady Palatine, of House Hardwind. Mr. Falls." He nearly choked. There was a familiar mischief in her eyes, very reminiscent of her mother.

"I had the pleasure of meeting your mother earlier this evening." He kept his face smooth and polite. "She is something else." He said with a smirk.

Palatine laughed delightedly, thankfully keeping her hands to herself. "Yes, my mother can be quite the handful. I apologize for her earlier performance." She shot a glance down to where her mother actually sat, some eight seats away. The woman was beaming from ear to ear at them. "She tends to like to get a measure of someone by riling them up a little." Her eyes took on a very shrewd stare as she sized him up. "If anything, she was more surprised by your attempt to ruffle her. Not many in court are brave enough for that!" The unspoken, “or dumb enough,” was easily heard in the space between.

He could tell Rosebreast was listening. The radar enchantment might not be able to give minute details, but it could certainly tell which direction heads might be turned. Both she and Ironbark were watching, and he could hear nothing from them when one of his ears flicked back.

Best to ignore it. This was what he had wanted, after all.

"I am an outsider and know little of your court's more intimate affairs." All this polite talking was stretching him thin. Oh, to be amongst the guards where he could shoot the shit, and no one would judge. "So perhaps my ignorance saved me."

She shook her head, amusement plain on her beak.

"I highly doubt that. As you are no doubt aware," she gave him a look, "she does not like Equestrians. For you to do what you did was likely the most foolish thing I could think of. But you did demonstrate a few attributes. The most notable being you are unlike any pony ever to arrive in our country’s borders."

"Well, it helps that I'm not actually an Equestrian. Not by birth, at least." She cocked an eyebrow, and Orion explained. "I come from Stalliongrad. I was abandoned near the city and struggled to survive on its streets."

"You're an orphan?" She gasped in surprise.

"Yes, actually. Still am, to be completely honest." He shrugged. "I have a rather disagreeable nature for most ponies to overcome. I am, by and large, considered "Unadoptable"." He air quoted.

"Oh? Why is that?" Palatine asked curiously. Just then, a creamy soup was set before them. Inside was shrimp and scallops. Mixed with a smattering of vegetables.

The smell hit him, and it was hard not to drool. His body was going to really hate him come his time to return home.

"Partly," he picked up a spoon as he had seen others already do and dipped his in for a scoop. "Is this." He bit into it and did, in fact, moan.

The scallops and shrimp had enough firm texture yet seemed to melt into his mouth, along with the potatoes. The sharp spices did nothing to pull attention away from the meal as a whole.

"You're an omnivore." She said in stunned silence as everyone in his vicinity had stopped to stare at him. Rosebreast had a death grip on her spoon that shook slightly. Another fact about him she had not apparently believed in.

"Yes, I am, and I do most of my cooking for myself." He turned to the host for this party and smiled. "Forgive me, but if I could get this recipe? I can only really get seafood, so anything to change up the monotony of fish is greatly appreciated."

"Yes. Of course." She said faintly before shaking herself and indulging in her own dish.

"Thank you, your Ladyship."

From there, the night sailed on smoothly.

Whatever Rosebreast had originally planned must have been dashed to pieces with all the curveballs he had sent her way in just the short amount of time he had been sitting at her table. Instead, she had decidedly left him alone to engage in small talk with the others near him.

The meal had been fantastic, a literal buffet of meat dishes that forced him to pace himself, so he didn't get sick.

His company, though not Screaming, had been rather nice. Palatine had not done anything untoward or even asked invasive questions that would have made him hesitant. However, she seemed rather reluctant for him to go when the evening drew to a close.

It had become public knowledge of what he had done for the refugees that had come north with him. To his surprise, that had garnered him a lot of support and, through him, Grace Fairheart as well. Though, some were suspicious of why he had done it. Hopefully, through Lady Hardwind and her daughter, they would learn his reasonings why later.

After the meal, in a smaller set of connecting rooms with fires crackling and plenty of seating, various conversations were struck, and most patrons snacked on the deserts provided on three tables. It looked like more than a few negotiations were happening over wine and cheese.

He waited, making small talk with those who grew curious enough to talk to him. By now, most of the party knew his origins, so it was basically finding out his age and what his plans were in the city. The idea of sightseeing made more than a few remark with sadness that there wasn't much to see in their fair city these past few centuries.

Orion agreed but kept those comments to himself. For them to admit that just spoke of how terrible it had all become.

Screaming came by and touched his arm toward midnight. He was in the middle of a conversation about the inside of the mountain itself with two other young drakes, and Palatine, who had managed to wheedle her way into another conversation with him.

"Orion, it is late, and it is time to go." She said quietly.

"Oh? Alright. Well, as my Lady had said, it is time I get moving. Thank you all for having me. It has been a true pleasure." It wasn't, he was about at his limit with all the polite conversation. When he got back to his room, he was going to peel the paint off the walls with a select string of pungent words just to get all the high-class posturing out of his system.

"Must you?" Came Hardwind's daughter's sad question.

"Yes, I must. It was lovely speaking with you, Lady Hardwind." He bowed slightly over her hand, which she had proffered to him.

"Please, Palatine." She responded back warmly. Nuclear strike sirens went off in his head. He simply smiled and turned away.

Screaming had an unreadable look on her face, and that spoke of a danger even greater than anything he had ever faced. So he kept his mouth shut and walked with her toward the exit.

There, Rosebreast was giving goodbyes to her guests. Her smile dropped a little when she spotted them.

"Thank you for inviting us out to this lovely party, Lady Rosebreast." His friend bowed deeply to the hen. He mimicked quickly.

"The pleasure was strictly mine, Lady Fairheart." She gave a small bow of her own and turned to Orion. "You have…been an interesting guest. One I won't soon forget, Mr. Falls." There was a tightness to her eyes and voice she had not had when speaking to others.

He smiled and gave another bow. "Thank you, your Ladyship. The meal was fantastic, and thank you again for allowing me the privilege of that recipe for the soup." A servant had handed it off to him when they had made their way into the lounge rooms.

"You are quite welcome. Have a safe journey back to King Bloodbeak's castle."

They bowed once more and made their way out and down the steps, the cool mountain air cooling the sweat that had built up on his back. He didn’t understand why the Duchess had decided a fire in summer was a good idea.

At their carriage, they found the other Lady Hardwind waiting. Though not for them.

"Lady Hardwind? Is your daughter not going with you?" Scream asked as she stood next to the Baroness. It takes time for coaches to be brought around to the front.

"My daughter makes her own schedule, Lady Fairheart. I fear it will be long before she comes home."

"Likely because she's trolling for a husband." He snarked in his head. The fact that she wanted him to stay had been alarming for him. He already had enough women problems as it was.

"I see." Was all that Scream said.

After some moments, he spoke up into the awkward silence.

"This has been an interesting evening for me. Never had I imagined I would be eating among nobles. Let alone speak with them."

"Oh, and what do you think of your time amongst us?" Hardwind arched an eyebrow.

"I think I prefer to take my meals with soldiers, your Ladyship." He said with a grin.

The gales of laughter that broke from her beak had several guards turning their heads in alarm at the trio. After a moment, she put a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle it.

"Colt," she began breathlessly. "You have been a fascinating dinner companion." She turned and hugged him. Something dropped into the pocket of his coat. "I hope that before you return to Equestria, you and I may speak again." She chortled and released him. "You are not as terrible as your counterparts."

There was a warm smile on her face, and a hardness to her eyes that wasn’t completely masked.

"Thank you, ma'am." He was careful not to touch that pocket. Clearly, she had been waiting for the opportunity, though what she had given him, might be secret. "If it can be arranged, I would love to speak with you again."

She nodded with a hum and stepped into her carriage that had been pulled around while they had been speaking. Screaming's was right behind hers.

"That Lady is something else." He murmured. Scream only nodded and stepped into her own coach before he could help her. The coldness roiling off of her was enough to freeze meat.

"Ah, shit."

They proceeded back home in silence, she staring out into the night with a neutral expression on her face, him wishing he had not opened his stupid mouth before they had headed to the party.

Gabriele had been waiting up in the night for her niece's safe return. Margarete made her more than a little nervous, and the idea of her little hatchling being in her nest of vipers once again would not allow her to sleep until she knew she was safe at home.

So when a guard kindly informed her of Grace and Orion's arrival back into the castle, she thanked the soldier before quickly making her way to her niece's apartments.

Knocking on the door, she waited. And waited. The queen knocked again, now with a frown on her beak. Still nothing.

Deciding to investigate, she cracked the Door and peered in. There, on a chair with no back, sat Grace Fairheart, staring into her mirror on top of a bureau. From the reflection, she could see her tears silently streaming down in runnels of red and black along her cheeks.

Her dress had yet to be undone.

Stepping fully in and shutting the door, she crossed the richly carpeted floor and wrapped her arms around her niece.

"My little fledgling, what is wrong? What happened?"

For a moment, Grace continued to stare at herself.

"Am I doing something wrong?" The dead tone in her voice caused the feathers on Gabriele's neck to rise. There was an emptiness in the way she looked at herself, the way she spoke to the air as if the Queen wasn't actually there.

Taking her niece's shoulders into her hands and turning her gently but firmly around, she stared into those turquoise orbs.

"What happened, my fledgling?" She couldn't help the sternness that had entered her own voice. The suspicion of a certain black pony breaking Grace's heart in a public setting like the ball this evening set the hen's blood on fire.

"Palatine." The young hen before her spat the name like a curse. "S-s-s-she flirted with him…like…like a harlot!" She suddenly roared, causing the Queen to stumble back.

Her retreat allowed for her niece to bolt to her paws, grab the chair she had only so recently vacated, and hurled it into the mirror with a violent rabid screech. The chair plowed straight through the slim reflective surface and gouged a significant amount of rough-hewn stone away before shattering apart. That seat had weighed nearly two hundred pounds.

Gabriele stood in a little awe at the raw fury her niece had displayed before her. In the absence of her rage, she could not help but note the similarities between her and Sigurd. The drake was known for his hot temper, though it took much to get him to that point these days.

Still, for the young and burgeoning hen before her staring hate at the wall with such malevolence, it was a wonder to her that the mountain itself didn't melt away, but she could understand. Another griffoness attempted to poach where she had so blatantly staked a claim was not a thing to ignore.

Gabriele sighed to herself. That wasn't even the whole of it. Orion Falls, while holding affection for Grace, did not love her. And rather than be blunt like any other griffon, drake, or hen, he was tippawing around the issue, like an Equestrian.

It was a marvel to her that the young stallion could hold so many similarities with her species yet still embody that of his own so completely. He was truly an enigma, one she did not like messing with her nest in such a way.

Even if it was not intentional intentions.

Brushing bits of mirror from her dress delicately. She asked her question a third time, though she did not attempt to turn her niece around this time.

"Things…things were going well…" Grace's voice cracked as she struggled to control her heated blood and recite the night’s events in a coherent order.

When she got to the end of the evening, when she could not even bear looking at him, the hen, who had now taken a seat on her bed, finished her tale.

"I just couldn't take it anymore." She whimpered. They had begun removing her dress sometime before the finish, now having the bodice and overlapping skirt top off and laid out for cleaning.

Gabriele tsked.

The young Lady Fairheart had looked far deeper into the situation than was necessary. Separating them had been on purpose, and Grace had seen it for what it was. Unfortunately, she had neglected to take into account that Rosebreast might have tried to rile her as well as him.

She had to laugh. The Hunter's Hall would have been an effective tool for any other pony from Equestria. But she had spotted the young colt on the second night, shadowboxing at a Taxidermied bear. That particular beast had been hunted for its threat to a small farming village in the north. A monument to her son's capabilities in battle, and on his own no less.

She had arranged for Eberhard to wander by and quiz him on the purpose of such activity and, more importantly, why he was not repulsed by the trophy.

His remarks were surprising. For one, it was dead. Orion reasoned that there was no point in fearing a deadly creature that could do nothing. Secondly, the reason why the beast was brought down really raised her brows. It wasn't for sport, but out of necessity to protect others. He approved of that fact, expressing an honorable idea of hunting only to fulfill a need rather than one's ego.

There was no way for Rosebreast to know any of this. Or believe it if she found out just before the party.

During Grace's tale, she felt that she had figured out the Duchess's plans. It was fairly simple, at least to her.

First, bring him to a room that would no doubt upset him. Then separate them from one another so he would feel the effects of the hall in full. As to not neglect her niece, Margarete placed Baroness Hardwind's daughter next to Orion so that he might latch on, or at least seem to, a friendly face.

Palatine was known to be rather friendly no matter the species. It was good that she did not share her mother's prejudices. However, that also made her a useful tool in prying Orion and her niece apart. Grace had done well to keep herself looking calm and composed throughout the evening. But in doing so, her own insecurities attacked her heart. Making her see more than what was actually there.

After a moment, where she spent the time helping to remove the powder on her niece's ears, she spoke.

"Grace. I should have had this talk with you before his arrival, and I feel partly responsible. Tell me. Has there been any indication in his letters that Orion holds a higher affection for you?"

"...no." She said quietly, with no real heat in the single-word answer. Just weariness.

"Do you think you may have hoped for something that wasn't there at all?" Gabriele hated to do this. It felt like she was plucking out root feathers with her bare hands. But this had gone on too long. She needed her niece to understand that she may be applying pressure on him that might drive him away completely.

"…yes…" She said breathlessly, a quiet sob wracking her body.

"Listen, and hear me, my little fledgling. Orion does not belong to you." She gently wiped her eyes which had begun to pour tears once more. "It is not that he does not care for you. If he had not, do you really think he would have come to see you, risking the wrath of his matron like he is?" Best not to drag Celestia's name into this, but she pushed on before Grace could answer. "Chick, you are placing so much pressure on him. It makes your interactions awkward and stiff. He is not stupid, I believe he knows what you’re driving at, and it frightens him. Orion is very much like an Equestrian in that you pushed your hand too far."

"I-I-I-I…" Her niece swallowed hard. "I didn't mean to!" She practically wailed.

"Hush now. I know you didn't, and I believe he does as well. Otherwise, he would have likely gone southbound before tonight." She had warned her against wearing the dress. "Ah, the eagerness of youth." She couldn't help but think as she gently stroked the hen that had become like a daughter to her.

"Grace. I do understand. I was once in love with a Paroton who would visit the port towns of my family's land. He was a rogue, much in the way your friend is." She wasn't about to mention the way that damnable bird had played with her heart like so many others. It would not help the message. "It hurts when they don't return the affection that you have given them. But it is not the end. In fact, you might find it freeing in a lot of ways."

"What…what do you mean?" Her niece sniffed, looking away.

"The pressure of looking and acting perfect in front of him. To hold this image that you are the ideal mate, you no longer have to pretend." She smiled kindly and tilted her niece’s head up with a single claw so that they could look at one another. "Also, the future is always in motion; who knows what it could bring."

Grace gave her a hesitant smile back, then her face fell.

"What if he never loves me?"

"Then it was not meant to be. And that is acceptable as well. Whether we like it or not, we cannot make others do for us what we want. Especially when it comes to love." She stood and offered her a hand. "Come, we should find you a place to stay while the servants clean all this up."

Taking her hand, her niece stood and followed after her. At the door, she ushered her through and took one more look at the wall where the bureau once stood, at the large gouge that was so prominent on the wall.

"Sigurd, your family's strength is alive and well in our niece and son."

He had not slept well the night before. Orion had spent too much time focused on his thoughts. Screaming dominated most of those. He could not ignore it anymore. The griffoness was in love with him, and while he cared for her deeply, he couldn't bring himself to want to be with her.

"Sure, she has a body built for sin, but…a relationship like that is not healthy. Goddamnit." In the years since he had come to this world, his celibacy, which was largely self-enforced, had given him a perspective on his past relationships. More accurately, on himself.

For years he had employed a catch-and-release program with women, never sticking to them long-term. It was only recently that he figured out that he wasn't happy. Turns out therapists are good for something. Fair Heart may not know what he was lamenting about half the time, but her advice was dead on.

Years of being woken up by Mrs. Evergarden at six in the morning had instilled in him a natural alertness around that time every day. So it was with reluctance, at six twenty-four am, he pulled himself from bed and headed into the bathroom attached to his apartments.

Stepping back out, and far more refreshed if still grumpy, he began picking up the dress clothes he had dropped unceremoniously on the floor the night before.

A folded-up note fell out of the coat pocket when he placed them on the back of a chair. He quickly leaned down and snatched it up. In the tension of last night, he had forgotten that Baroness Hardwind had dropped it into his pocket when she had hugged him.

He unfolded the note.

"Orion Falls,

"Forgive the hastiness of this message, as I am afraid I do not have much time.

"You have impressed me tonight, and I do believe that you and I may have a common interest. I wish you to visit me at my Griffonstone manor Monday morning. Around nine. I have the day clear, and I very much wish to get to know you better.

"With best Wishes and Hope for a visit,

"Baroness Dorothea von Hardwind."

He blinked, and reread the message again.

"Huh?"

Before he had time to ponder, the door to his room banged open with all the force of a hurricane, and in stepped Gilda Broadwing. The glare she directed at him would have flash-melted steel.

Before he could ask what the hell she was doing, she spoke first. No, bellowed at him.

"HOW DARE YOU MAKE HER LADYSHIP CRY!" She bolted from her spot at the door and struck him across the face.

Stars danced in his vision, but he immediately struck back, planting his hoof in her midsection and hurling her into the wall across from him.

"Damn bitch didn't even give me a chance to explain." Nor did she give him much time to recover as Gilda practically bounced from the wall back at him, throwing another punch that missed him completely as he finally managed to grab a hold of his magic and move out of the way.

Rather than be deterred by his sudden increase in agility, the impromptu battle erupted, with her launching a flurry of strikes that did not miss. He did his best to return the favor as he weathered her incoming blows and sought an opening in her own guard. That moment came from an ill-timed punch thrown by the guardsgriffon.

Grappling one another, the pair soon found themselves on the ground, trading elbows, punches, and headbutts in an attempt to make the other submit.

That was where Gabriele Fairheart, the Queen herself, found them. On the floor, beating the hell out of each other like schoolyard children.

"What is going on here?!" She did not screech, but her voice stopped them instantly in their assault on one another.

Gilda was the first to react and quickly dislodged herself from him. Orion reacted slower, picking himself up off the ground and casually pulling his underwear back up. Somehow in the tangle, they had been nearly pulled off. He ran his tongue over a cut on his lip, wiping the blood away from there.

"Sergeant Broadwing." The named griffoness winced. "You will report yourself to your superior immediately. Tell in full what you have done." She leaned forward, and it struck him that the Queen was actually taller than the King himself. "Do not allow me to find out that you attempted to worm your way out of this. To attack a guest of the palace. Of my niece!"

To her credit, Gilda did not try to deflect nor plead her case. With a cutting finger point that left the monarch's claw trembling, she marched out the door, her head still high.

Irritated, more like absolutely livid, at being assaulted in his own room, he turned away from Queen Fairheart and looked for a trash can he had seen earlier. Blood was flooding his mouth from the cut on his lip and what he felt was a torn gum line.

"I am dearly sorry for the treatment you-" Orion could see her with his enchantment, giving a start at realizing that he was no longer where she had expected. "Are you okay?"

He held up a finger, picked the trash can up, and spat out the blood that had been swishing in his mouth.

"I'll be fine." Placing the can down, he rubbed at his face and a few growing sore places. The bitch could really hit. Had he not increased his skin's resilience when he did, she might have broken something. "A great way to wake up, in fact. Remind me not to ask for it in the future." He groused, walking into his bathroom again to clean himself up.

In a travel bag, he pulled out a small tin of cream. "Nightshade's Stitch-up." The salve had proven useful for stopping, and even mending, cuts and abrasions that he had gotten over the years. He mentally patted himself on the back for remembering to bring it and slathered the stuff on some of the more evident wounds he had received. However, the creamy substance did burn, and he hissed through his teeth in an effort not to growl as he tended to himself.

Putting his stuff away, he came back out of the bathroom to find Queen Fairheart still in his sitting room.

"Well, if you’re still here, that means you weren't just passing by. What can I help you with, your Majesty?"

"Before I mention why I am here, would you get dressed?" She gestured to him, a slight flush of embarrassment on her face.

He looked down at himself and laughed. He had been attacked while still in his boxers.

"Yeah, yeah. Give me a minute." He said good-naturedly despite the situation. "Not like you didn't get to see everything." He poked at the increasingly blushing monarch.

Sauntering into his room, he selected the tried and true orange shirt and black slacks that he quickly slipped into. Coming back out, he figured it was time to apologize for his lack of decorum but found her Majesty reading the note he had dropped on the ground in the scuffle.

"If she's not going to respect privacy, then she can just live with the knowledge that she got to see colt junk. Nosey little-"

His internal rant was interrupted.

"What "mutual interest" do you and the Baroness of Eastperch have?" She held up the letter at him.

Folding his arms, Orion glared at her. "Honestly, I do not see it as any of your business." He quickly realized the mistake in that sentence and quickly added. "If she's talking a coup, I will inform you and his Majesty immediately. I have no interest in rule of any kind, thank you."

Gabriele Fairheart opened her mouth, then closed it hesitantly. Shaking her head, she carried on, dropping the note on the table nearest his door.

"See that you do. We have enough enemies from without as well as within. I would despise having to add to the "in" portion of the list any more than I have already." Placing the sheet of paper down on the table, she approached him. "You are correct, I did see much, and I cannot help but notice that you haven't yet earned a cutiemark. Why?"

He blinked in confusion at her.

"The hell is a cutie…Oh yeah." He restrained himself from smacking himself, instead running a hand through his mane, making the various ornaments clatter together. "No, I do not."

"I am reliably informed that by this time, you should. Yet you do not seem concerned in the least for the lack." She let the unspoken question of why sit heavy in the air.

"I'm not because a cutiemark doesn't define someone. Their actions and thoughts do. Besides, I've seen plenty of ponies who have one and are doing work in the opposite direction of those marks."

Cutiemarks were not what someone could often see. With pants or skirts covering them up, there was no way to actually tell what talent they actually might possess. So many wore pendants or had their mark stitched onto their clothes.

"Very true." She mused, tapping her beak with a claw in thought. Then the Queen fixed him with a look. "I suppose that is truly your business, and it is not the issue I am approaching you with. I am severely angry with you, Mr. Falls."

Orion lifted his head and let out an audible groan. Whatever decorum he had during the party was well and truly spent now. He had been assaulted in his room, had his junk flapping about in front of nobility, and the night before had brought his friend heartbreak.

"Listen, before you tear into me, can I get a cup of coffee?" He felt like this was going to be a long, drawn-out affair in any case.

Thankfully, Queen Fairheart had agreed to his caffeinated request. So instead of his ass-chewing being done in his room, it would be done in her private office instead.

Standing before her desk, a lighter color than her husband's, covered in carved vines and flowers, he sipped at the cup as she delicately partook in her own.

His eyes glanced around the room. The King clearly loved his bride. Either that or she knew exactly how to make a room appear like an indoor jungle.

The chamber itself had what every office did. Desks, chairs, bookcases, and even paintings. What hers possessed beyond that were plants. Lots and lots of plants.

The balcony had been converted into a kind of indoor garden, one which her chair butt up against. The rails had been replaced with iron and glass, which could be opened to allow air to flow in from the currents shooting up the mountain. Simple and easy to keep the room cool, and the vegetation healthy.

"Now, from Gilda's actions, I can assume you understand what I may be upset about." She suddenly said, pulling Orion's attention to her immediately.

"Yeah."

She cocked her eyebrow.

"What? You want me to apologize for something I didn't do?"

Her other brow rose.

"You have a surprisingly abrupt way of talking to me. As if you have that privilege." She glowered at him.

"Yes, I do. And if you know what the King knows, then you know why." He shot back quickly.

"Being in the Princess's good graces means little. She will not save you from punishment."

The Queen stood and marched around the desk to stand directly in front of him. She frowned when she realized that he was unperturbed by her act of intimidation.

"Oh sure, I could be tossed into jail for a time. But eventually, Celestia will come for me. Do you think you could stop her?"

Instead of answering him, she pivoted.

"What makes you think you are so important to her?"

"In all honesty, I'm not. However, Twilight is. Nepotism is not strictly limited to family alone. If Twilight were to learn something terrible had happened to me, I doubt the Princess would be happy to have to help her student recover from this. Better just to get me back alive than let me rot in a dungeon. Or get beheaded." He cocked his head at her. "Besides, would you actually risk hurting me?"

"Griffonia is a dangerous place, Mr. Falls. Who knows what could happen." He grinned, and she clucked in annoyance. Taking a step away from him, the annoyed look on her face melted away, replaced with resigned frustration. "You are right, of course. I, nor my husband, would risk you getting injured." The look said she had already failed.

"Look, if you’re worried I'm gonna get upset over Gilda hitting me, I'm not. True, she had no right to, but I don't exactly blame her. I would castrate anyone who hurt my friends. I have few enough of those as is." He sighed. "I'm sorry if I am being a dick. But it is not my fault that Screaming wants more out of our friendship than just that."

"So you did know." She cocked her head to the side. "Why have you not said anything?"

"Because when it comes to the realm of females, of any species, I am a giant coward. I don't want to hurt her feelings. At all." He sighed and rubbed his face. "The problem is, I am worried about saying or doing something that can ruin what we already have. So I am locked into place by my own fears of screwing up." He groaned. "Which means the situation is damned if I do, damned if I don't."

Queen Gabriele Fairheart nodded along as he vented.

"So you feel trapped. I suppose that's true. It is a no-win situation for you. However, do you truly hold no desire for my niece?"

He bit the inside of his cheek. Then threw up his hands, leaped from the chair, and stalked to one of the bookshelves that were bracketed by low-hanging plants.

"Forgive me, but your niece is built like a brick shithouse."

"Ah, what?!"

Spinning on the heel of his hoof, he gave her a smirk. "It's a rather vulgar expression to say she is stacked. That she is voluptuous in all the right ways, those ladies last night giving her death glares are clearly jealous of her portions."

"Oh." She flushed. "That is true, and you are correct. But why not tell her that?"

"Because if I did, she would likely become despondent the rest of my time here once she realized that despite her looks, I don't want more than her friendship. I don't want her to be sad." He said.

"So instead, you allowed her to believe something was there when it wasn't?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came. He sighed, hung his head, and only added, "See? Damned if I do, damned if I don't."

"I do." The Queen left him there and made her way to her balcony to finger some of the plants there with a claw. "In truth, she has placed undo stress on you as well."

His head jerked up. "Well, if she admits that, and you knew it, how am I at fault?"

"Because," she turned her head, her feathers ruffling slightly as she looked at him. "You were never honest with her, to begin with. Instead of treating her as you should, you kept her at wing length in an attempt to ease whatever guilt developed."

Shrugging his shoulders, he had to admit the Queen had a point.

"Not like it worked. I still feel guilty as hell."

"So even in that plan, you have failed."

"Ouch. But yeah.” He sighed. “Judging by Gilda, I'm assuming she is really pissed with me." Looking for another place to sit, somewhere closer to the door, he chose an overly stuffed corner chair, and all but fell into it.

"Yes, but more so at herself. I spoke with her last night, and she is truly remorseful for her actions. But I'm afraid she will need time." For the first time, she wore a look of sympathy. Sympathy for him.

"It means I'm in limbo with the high likelihood of being sent home earlier than originally intended." Orion sighed, staring at the carpeted covered floor.

"Yes…" Queen Fairheart responded. "However, give her some time. Grace needs to sort through her own feelings."

"There's a punching bag in the barracks. I'd recommend her putting a picture with my face on it and wailing on it for a couple of hours." He chuckled, and to his surprise, the Queen joined him.

"I…I would fear for the bag." She chortled. "What do you know of The Bloodline of the Bloodbeaks?"

"The…what of what?" He asked, confusion on his face.

"I expected as much." She placed herself in another corner chair across from him and took time adjusting her skirts before redirecting her attention to him. "My husband's bloodline is a long and storied history. However, I shall leave the gritty details to your own time to look through. It's more the attributes I wish to highlight."

"Okay…go on, don't leave an idiot in suspense." That got a smile from her.

"My Kindling, my King, is exceptionally powerful. I have seen an entire brigade attempt to bring him down, only for him to trounce them singlehandedly. Our son,” she paused for effect, “has taken after his speed more than his strength. Grace seems to have inherited the family’s strength. She is exceedingly strong, physically, I mean." She waited expectantly for his response.

It took him a moment to process the topic, partly due to the sudden change in subject.

"How strong are we talking here? I'm not sure I understand. You tellin' me that King Fairheart is better than the average griffon?"

"Far better." She nodded. "He is capable of tossing a loaded cart weighing several hundred pounds easily." She raised a hand with a shoulder shrug. "Our son did not share in that, perhaps it's my fault as he does not bear his father's stoutness."

"Built more like you, eh?" Which she nodded to. "So, the King is this powerhouse. The son is fast and agile. I can assume, then, that Screaming has taken after her uncle instead." He wondered if she was capable of the same feat.

"Yes, though neither I nor my husband, were sure. Until last night that is." Her patent frown returned. "She destroyed her bureau in spectacular fashion, as well as the wall behind it."

Orion's eyes widened, he was fast and strong thanks to the particular spell amalgamation he had thrown together, but Scream didn't even need the help of magic to do so. That little display, if accurate, meant she outstripped even him in physical prowess.

"Oh…shit." He was going to have to rework the spells to something better. If his friend was any indication, his abilities weren’t nearly as impressive as he had once believed.

"Indeed. I do not tell you this to frighten you, but to warn you that if you attempt to hurt her purposefully, my husband will be more than happy to…beat you is the nicest way to say it." The Queen said as gently as she could.

"If…if he is as strong as you claim, he could likely redecorate the castle in a new paint of red with me." He swallowed. Hard. He had no idea that it was possible for immensely powerful individuals to exist outside of Equestria. Then again, up till this point, he had believed he was special in his talents.

"Not even he would go that far. At least now. Thirty, maybe, forty years ago? He might have." She chuckled. "I wasn't even considering telling you any of this, but the punching bag comment, while a good idea, might not be feasible given her current mood. She's had no training, and she's likely to lash out wildly without control if she allows her emotions to take too much prominence."

"Well, now that you are aware of her ability, perhaps you and the King should help her develop it. At the very least, she should be able to fight to defend herself if nothing else."

"I am already considering doing just that. Sigurd, the dear, has already given me a list of trainers that could handle her this morning." She laughed richly.

"Oh, awesome…awesome." Orion bit his cheek again. He was going to wear a hole in it soon if he didn't stop. "Man, what the hell am I gonna do in the meantime?"

"Well, there is the library, and if my information is correct, the guards do enjoy your company in training. So perhaps you should gain some combat training yourself. That display was abysmal." The Queen was remarking on his earlier scuffle with Gilda.

"Yeah, I'm quickly learning that pony martial arts are not really applicable beyond a training mat. Either that or I am being taught wrong on purpose." Once he had learned that Iron Will's had a self-defense course, he had been all too eager to join. He had thought he was getting good combat skills. Gilda's assault had proven otherwise.

"I am surprised that the Sergeant was not inflicting more damage." Her eyes had narrowed, which meant she suspected something. Drumming his fingers, he answered her.

"Without giving too much detail, I cheated." Sitting up, for he had been slouching since he sat down, he continued his explanation. "I have…developed a set of spells that increase my natural abilities. In this case, I increased my body's defenses. Made my skin tougher, my bones harder, that sorta thing."

Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Is that how you survived your encounter with the Timberwolves?"

"Yeah, actually. Only I devoted more to power so I could punch through its chest. I first lit that spot on fire, which was hard as hell to do in the rain, to make it brittle. Even then, it took me a few strikes."

The Queen of Griffonia was silent for a few minutes as she tapped her beak in that weird way all griffons seemed to do when they were thinking.

"In all my years, I have never heard of that before." She finally said. "You are being awfully forthcoming. Why?"

He smiled tightly. "Because no one knows how exactly I do it. Celestia has yet to demand that I demonstrate the spells, which is a surprise and makes me think I'm not the first to do it. And no, I do not plan on showing anyone. If I can figure it out, so can others."

"How far can you take it? The upper limits of those spells, I mean."

That was a good question. To date, he had yet to go entirely full bore. Maybe he needed to test that before committing to an overhall. Part of that was the concern of ripping himself apart by accident. But it was primarily due to him not actually needing to. Even with the fight against the timberwolves, he hadn't needed too much power.

"Come to think of it, if I can redistribute the strength spell into reinforcing my ligaments and muscle fibers on top of increasing bone density, could I go all out? What would that look like?"

"Mr. Falls?" He blinked. His mind must have wandered off.

"Sorry. My brain took me down a rabbit hole. What did you say?"

Her beak bent in a broad smile. "My mind sometimes does that as well. I asked my original question a second time. How far can you take it?"

"Honestly, I have no clue. I never tried to push too far. I worry about breaking something vital, so I have been hesitant to try." He shrugged. "I was just thinking of some details I might have overlooked."

"I see." Suddenly she stood and looked at a clock that had been ticking away the entire time. "I am actually sad to say that I must cut this conversation short. While it is Sunday, I'm afraid duty does not care if I can rest or not."

He stood with her and nodded.

"Yeah, I am getting hungry anyways." Stepping toward the door, he paused and turned around to her. Giving a hasty bow, he spoke. "Thank you for helping me and Scream out with this, regardless of what happens. And also, sorry about my attitude. The wake-up is no excuse. This has been…oddly nice."

"You are quite welcome, Mr. Falls, and it is no trouble. I do understand your position, even if I am a little upset with you as well. Have a good day." Queen Gabriele Fairheart gave a gracious and smooth nod and turned away.

"Well, I will give the colt one thing. He most certainly knows we can do very little against him." Sigurd had been surprised to hear that his wife had taken direct action with their Equestrian guest.

That was not usually Gabriele's way.

"We have already established that he is not ignorant, my Kindling. But yes, he is very aware." She patted his arm, amused at her husband's surprised response.

After her morning meeting with the Listeners, she had gone to eat lunch with her husband. During the meeting, her mind had been more on Orion Falls and the letter he had somehow gotten from Baroness Hardwind.

While she held no hate for the Lady of Eastperch, she did not trust the hen more than a claw length. She supported her niece, and that was all well and good, but her insistence on her own network of eyes and ears often conflicted with the Queen's interests.

"You are thinking of Dorothea." Her husband's sudden naming of her worry broke her from her thoughts.

"I am. I am worried, Sigurd." She rarely used his actual name. "In the span of a night, she has chosen to set a meeting with him. I believe she may actually disrupt our own plans in some way I cannot see through him."

"Do you think he may be forthcoming with an answer if we question him?" He asked, concern on his face.

She contemplated that for a moment.

On the one hand, he has shown that he is keeping his personal goals close to his heart. However, on the other, he has demonstrated that he can be honest and straightforward when he thinks that is the best course.

"He may. If we ask in a particular manner. I can see why the Princess has such a difficult time with him. He can be very cagey if he believes that the information someone could get from him may be used against him."

"Hmm. Yes, I have gotten that impression as well." He took a bite of fish and chewed.

Her husband was a brilliant griffon. Though due in large part to that, he would often distract himself when he was working on an issue. Sigurd had discovered when his conscious thoughts were focused elsewhere. His subconscious could work over the problem better than he actually could.

"I must confess, I am surprised you managed to get him to speak on his magic." He said after he swallowed. "Most unicorns I've met are so tight-beaked it's a wonder they can breathe." He chuckled.

"I believe he was only willing to divulge that information because of my touching upon your family's lineage." He grimaced. The drake had not liked the fact that she had spoken on it. With a foreigner, no less.

"I am…interested in that." He muttered as he took another bite of his meal.

She blinked. It was astonishing to see he was not going to stay focused on what he did not approve of. Usually, it took an entire day to get him to see reason.

"In what? His ability?" She asked. Gabriele had long since finished her meal and was now more focused on individual reports from some of the more notable hotspots in the world. The Zegyptions were having a rioting issue that concerned her greatly.

"Yes. It has been years since I've had a sparring partner." Her ears snapped up, and she swung her head to stare at her husband, aghast. "What?"

"You would risk injuring him to satisfy that particular itch?" She asked, still incredulous. "If you truly wish to measure yourself, ask Celestia for a match. At least she can handle you."

"Hah. No. The whorse would embarrass me to make a point."

"And you would instead do so with one of her subjects?" She arched an eyebrow at him. He wilted.

"Well, no. I would be gentle." She snorted, and he threw up his hands. "Can you not permit me a little to get justice for our niece?"

Gabriele smirked at him. So that was his play. The King was many things, stalwart, honest, and direct in his approach. But he could be a particularly vengeful monarch when he had felt one of his own had been hurt, especially with Grace. For her, he could become downright irrational.

"Sigurd, you know well and good that Grace is just as much responsible for this nasty business of the heart, as well as he. In fact, I would say she has more of the blame than he, for Orion, never sought to lead her on." She wagged a finger at him.

"But-"

"No. You will not seek to punish him for something that is part of life. Grace must learn of those aches and pains, and better now than later when she is hardened in her ways."

He pouted, and she smiled in triumph. In truth, they both knew he would have never gone that far over something that was merely life itself.

"Heh." He began to chuckle, and she leaned over to swat him before he got too carried away.

"What is so humorous?" She asked peevishly. Not liking the shrewd expression now pulling his beak into a small grin.

“I seem to remember that I was…well, at least implying something of the same when I first told you of Orion's intentions when he arrived." Gabriele had been hoping that he would have forgotten about that.

Her expression must have given her away, for his undeterred chuckles turned to outright laughter, much to her displeasure.

"This was before I had the pleasure of getting to know our fine, if slightly, argumentative, guest." She sniffed.

Silence fell between them, though it was interrupted by her husband's humor when he wasn't eating.

Finally, Sigurd finished his meal, and the plate was quickly whisked away by an attentive servant.

"So, how will you approach the situation?" He asked gently. He knew she didn't like when he pried too deeply into her plans, but this was more a curiosity. The King of Griffonia trusted his bride to do the right thing.

"With Baroness Hardwind? Nothing at the moment. Partly due to his ignorance of her plans." She tapped her beak. "What is truly plaguing my mind is I cannot think of what she may even want with him. What does she know that we do not?" The Queen huffed.

"Peace, my Fire." He patted her hand that had come to rest on the table with his own. "If I may offer a suggestion?" She nodded, and he continued. "Carry on with the same direct approach you've already done with him. I think he appreciates that far more than the more subtle wording you normally would make use of."

It made sense. Orion's initial reaction had been rather aggressive, and at first, she had thought there had been a mistake made. But as the conversation carried on and his later apologies came forth, she realized most of his anger was directed inward. A very complicated colt, to say the least.

"That is…good advice, my Kindling." She gave him a rueful smile. "It is nice to see all the training I have put into you has not gone to waste."

That got the old war drake to splutter and get indignant, which pleased her greatly.

As they departed the dining room they used for private dining, she could not keep her mind from the possible looming threat for long.

"What are you up to, Dorothea?"

Sunday had been worse than just simply being boring. After his morning beating, followed by his at first hostile conversation with the Queen, he had been left alone.

No Screaming. Which meant he had taken his dinner alone in the barracks dining hall. Word had gotten around that he was in the dog house with the young Lady of House Fairheart. Which meant even Swift stayed clear of him.

It was just as well. The idea of fending off a dozen questions as to what happened was not appealing. Not to mention the potential anger that would be directed at him would sour an already shitty mood.

But there was another issue.

Last night's events proved that too many people in this country knew far too much about him as is. And with Scream's already tentative position within the noble society here, he did not want to say or do something that would jeopardize that further.

Life in this supposedly primitive new world was getting extremely complicated. Far too quickly.

In the end, he ate his meals mechanically. Not really tasting what was likely a delicious dish of mostly meat. Between lunch and dinner, he wandered the halls in a listless fashion, his mind focused inward on the myriad of problems that seemed to grow with each step he took.

Monday morning wasn't much better than Sunday. No morning beating, but he had been barred from using the barracks wings’ gymnasium. He had nearly gotten into a fistfight with the Master at Arms, who ran both the logistics department as well as the training programs.

At the last moment, he just threw up his hands and stalked off to go running up and down the cart path that went down the mountain.

He had burned much of his anger off then, only to come back and find a rather rude effigy of himself being hung nailed to his private room door.

Unfortunately for the perpetrators of this threat, they hadn't hidden very far, for his radar highlighted the three a couple of meters away in a supply closet. They were peaking out and watching, and he could hear the nasty mutters, if not their explicit contents.

It was the first time he had used the teleport spell for anything other than trying to figure out what was wrong with him.

Not that the trio had any idea. All they got was the scare of a lifetime. He popped up behind them in a flash of magic light, looking for all the world like a monster from the darkness as they all screamed and burst from the closet in a panic.

It had taken everything he had in him not to flog them with the crude representation of him that he was still clutching in a shaking hand. Instead, he simply watched the gaggle of clearly raw recruits stumble and fall over each other as they scrambled away in fear.

"Good. I hope the rest leave me the fuck alone."

The "hang Orion" burst into flame in his hands, and he flung the burning doll to a bare corner of the hall that had nothing else flammable around it.

There would be a mystery for the poor servant that would have to scrub the soot marks away later.

Entering his rooms to take a cold mountain bath, he noted with a groan that it was already seven thirty. It would not be long before he was to meet Baroness Hardwind at her manor.

His curiosity had been piqued since yesterday morning. No, he supposed it was the night before that when she had slipped the note into his pocket. There was never a doubt in his mind that he would take her offer.

Fortunately, in her note, she had given him instructions on how to reach her home, so asking someone in the castle and risking another confrontation was not going to be an issue.

Dressing in a conservative gray shirt and dark blue pants, he stepped out of his private chambers and headed for the entrance to the castle. During his wanderings the day before, he had found himself once more in the castle library. Bored perusing of the available literature brought up an interesting and relevant book.

"Alberhard Nightbranch's Language of Colors, the Complete and Concise notations on Speaking without words."

The title reminded him of what Screaming had worn the night of the party. Wanting to know more and how to avoid trouble like this in the future with any griffon he might meet, he took the book back to his room that night and poured over its contents.

Alberhard Nightbranch, whose name had made him question if there was some type of theme going on with "hard" at the end, was very thorough in his book.

The Language of Colors was so deeply ingrained in the griffon species' very nature that it would often involve everything they did.

One particular color stood out. One that had been glossed over by Eberhard before.

Red.

It was forehead slappingly obvious. It was the color of romance. The darker hues used to involve an already romantically involved couple meant anything from rekindled love to the desire for children.

But it went much deeper than that. Colors could be combined, as was the case with Scream's dress. She combined red, orange, and black. His somewhat natural coloring. That was a declaration to any who might notice her interests. And who she was interested in.

Orion had thumped the book against his head, hoping to either bludgeon himself to death or learn the contents by osmosis.

His clothing today had been carefully chosen. A Gray shirt meant he was open to negotiations. The deep blue pants combined with that spoke to his unwillingness to jump in head first in whatever was discussed.

Their culture was certainly far more complicated than theirs, merely having some vaguely Germanic architecture and manner of speech.

So far, any he had spoken with had used fluent Equish, but their accents were often thicker than expected.

Jacques Stitch being the odd bird out in that. He was as French as one could get.

No one offered him a carriage, so he walked, and thankfully it was a sunny day for it.

It nearly took the entire hour he had allowed himself to get to Dorothea von Hardwind's surprisingly humble abode.

It was less of a manor and more of a rich merchant home. Though a large stone wall wrapped around its entirety that included a large lawn. The house itself shared much in common with others on the street, dark tiled roof with stained wood walls.

The only differences were the quality of materials and the larger space her property took up.

Perhaps it was an attempt not to draw attention to the home.

In either case, he still stood out like a sore thumb. There were a lot of griffons traversing the streets on his way here, and he had been the subject of more than a few eyes as he passed them by.

It was weird. He expected more flying like the pegasi back home. Instead, a great deal chose to keep their paws on the ground.

"What is up with that?" He thought as he rang the large bell sitting on the top of a mini tower next to the iron-bound gate. The pull rope was new, the gate, not so much.

It wasn't long before a griffon in blue livery arrived. She was pretty, but her open face turned grim when she saw who was at the gate.

"Can I help you?" She sounded like an angry service worker on Christmas Eve. Pissed off and wanted to be anywhere but there. With him.

"Good morning." He said politely, holding up the letter Baroness Hardwind had given him. "My name is Orion Falls, and the Lady of the house asked to see me today."

The maid held out a hand with a skeptical look. He placed the message in her palm, and she took it and ran an eye over it. She looked back at him for a moment.

"Wait here." And she walked away.

He was getting more strange looks. A few hostile ones from the pair of guards standing at opposite ends of the walled-off building. How had he missed them?

Not three minutes after, Palatine of all griffons came rushing out. The disapproving maid was hot on her heels.

"Mr. Falls!" She called out delightedly, and he barely suppressed a wince.

"Sure, just scream my name for the whole world to hear, why don’t ya? Not like this won't get back to Screaming in any way, no siree."

He reminded himself he must be polite.

"Good morning Lady Hardwind." He gave a polite, conservative wave. Orion could practically feel the tension rolling off the two soldiers. They had closed the distance, while still not looking like they had moved. He hadn't even seen anything by radar either. He wondered how they did that.

"What brings you to my home?" She smiled, boldly opening the gate without a care in the world.

"I am here to see your mother. She wanted to discuss something with me." He gave a smile he didn't feel.

He couldn't quite pinpoint where it had gone wrong between him and Scream, but given the fact that he had been sat next to Palatine during the party, it had to have started there. With her now shouting his name and grabbing onto him to drag him in, it looked like he was there to see her instead.

"Oh, what does my mother want with you?" She said as the gate swung closed with a bang and he was half led, dragged, down the side of the house. Apparently, his meeting with the noble will be done outside.

"Something about mutual interests. You'd have to ask your mom." He couldn't keep the formal speech up. "And can ya stop draggin' me? I got legs, ya know."

Her hands sprung from his arm, and she blushed furiously.

"I do apologize, Mr. Falls. I sometimes forget myself when I become excited." She cocked her head. "You sound…different."

Dusting himself off, he sighed.

"That is because I was putting on an act. I'm no noble, and that party Saturday stretched my capacity for upper-crust nonsense." He looked down at her and gave a shrug. "No offense. Just not a stuffy kinda guy."

"Oh….oh! Yes, I get it! Because of the orphan issue!" Palatine turned and walked around the corner of the home, gesturing him to follow.

Now that he had time to adjust to his surroundings, he could see that inside the compound was a verdant and beautiful garden.

"Must be something about nobles and gardens."

He had never seen the flowers in the beds that bracketed the pathway in either world, but they were beautiful and delicate-looking things. The scent struck his nose, and he could only hum in approval.

A cough behind him alerted the pony that he was not alone. The disapproving maid was still there.

"Oh, sorry. Just…" He gestured at the garden, with its flowers and shrubs tastefully put together. Her look said she didn't care. Her tapping paw screamed for his ass to get moving.

Following the path around the house, Orion realized that Palatine had just insulted him. Accidentally.

Maybe.

With that thought within his mind, he glowered as he came around the side and spotted her in a stone pavilion.

"Listen, lady," no longer was he using the word as an honorific for the griffon hen. "Just because I don't have a family doesn't mean it's an issue." He began.

"No, I do not imagine it is, Mr. Falls." The subtlety soft voice of Dorothea von Hardwind brought him up short. The man-turned-pony had not seen the noble griffon because a pillar and rail had been in the way, hiding the Baroness from view. "I imagine it has served your purposes rather well, in fact."

He was going to need to change the mental klaxons in his head to something else. It was getting annoying how often they went off.

"Uh-huh." His face must have shown alarm because Lady Hardwind tittered in amusement.

"Please do not fret, Mr. Falls. I've just had time to notice things about you that Gabriele and her…resources seemed to have overlooked." She paused, a hand in the air. "Well, perhaps overlooked is inappropriate there. More like they know yet haven't thought much beyond knowing that is unusual."

"Gabriele? Does she mean the Queen?" It was beginning to dawn on him that King Sigurd may not be the one in charge after all.

"While I would love to watch you work through your own thoughts on what I said, I fear you will not have a lot of time." She gestured to a chair across from her. "Please sit, Mr. Falls. We have much to talk about, and I fear little time to dwell upon niceties.

Orion took a seat. "What is going on?"