darkSpyro

Latnok was happy that the minotaur - Tizen, he called himself - was at least asking the question instead of automatically assuming. "We're best friends," he answered. "We cooperate and help each other do things that would be impossible alone. We've fought together on the battlefield, and have always come out on top. The nature of being a human with opposable thumbs versus a dragon with wings means we, naturally, take on different roles - but that's how it is.
Latnok prepared himself for any follow-up questions (which he believed were an inevitability.) Things were a little more complicated than some might get the impression of from a cursory look.

Veris became a little more alert after Angora asked her question. "Of course!" he said confidently. "Is it that man again? Is he bothering you?" Veris just knew that man was no good - it had to be him. What was Angora thinking about him?

Angora was quick to make things clear.
“No no Veris! It’s not him. He hasn’t done anything to me. It has nothing to do with him... well, it does, but it’s not what you think.” she explained, Veris becoming very defensive when it came to Draikon. He really must not like him, and was going to hate him even more once she tells him about her plans and his involvement. Angora originally wanted to keep Draikon out of it, but ultimately decided she didn’t want to keep any secrets from Veris.

Her lip trembling and cleaning a drop of sweat from her temple, Angora finally decided to tell Veris the truth. She couldn’t keep postponing the information. She had to tell him once and for all.
“The truth is... the reason why we had that conversation yesterday is... well... I... I’m leaving. I’m... quitting my job. Now don’t you dare think it’s because of you Veris. No no no. Not at all.” Angora quickly assured.
“It’s... well, I’ve been here for some years now, and I love taking care of you. You know that, right? But... the stress is becoming too much. The other caretakers don’t like me, and all the Guardians keep treating me indifferently, well, except Julian and your master. And of course, your friends keep hunting me. They don’t want to give me the chance to befriending them, and avoiding their attacks and having them stare at me, it has become too annoying. I’m not sure for how much longer I can keep avoiding them. Sere can’t move you from that enclosure cause it’s the biggest and most protected, so that’s out of the question.” she explained in case Veris didn’t know.
“That man Draikon... he offered me a job. I can’t say I trust him, and he is kinda creepy, but he sounded sincere when he said he wanted to help my species, so I’ll give him a chance if it means giving a chance to my species. This has been a very hard decision Veris. You’ll still have me for some months though, and if my contract expires and Sere still hasn’t found a replacement, I’m willing to stay for much longer after that, but for now, I’m letting you know in time. I am truly sorry Veris. Really. This is not easy for me. I hope you can forgive me... and understand.” Angora finished, feeling as if she just lifted an entire mountain off her shoulders. She was worried on how Veris would react with such brutal information given how used he has gotten to her care and friendship, but she wanted to trust he was going to be fine. He could live just fine without her in his life once, and he would be able to do it again with time.

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“It’s because of that reputation and that she wanted to suddenly join the voyage is what got everyone nervous. Don’t trust her Maverick.”

Maverick placed his hand on his forehead.
“But I told you already, people hating dragons is sadly very common in Redwater. Especially after what Oscurito did. You can’t treat people badly for something they consider normal, especially someone you don’t even know. As for her being here, she could just be looking for a job, or just a new experience, and nothing more. Why does everybody have to assume the worst in everybody always? She’s probably feeling so lonely right now.” Maverick stated, almost as if scolding Icestorm. He didn’t completely trusted Huntress either if she was whom he thought she was, but that didn’t mean he was going to be mean to her out of the blue. Approaching and befriending her was going to be much harder now if she was going to isolate herself due to that bad experience, as her absence seemingly indicated.

Maverick understood, but it still didn’t justify the way she was treated.
“I know, I’m not saying we should lower our guards. I’m only saying you can’t be harsh to people based on what you hear only. You need to get to know them first.” Maverick counseled, Huntress still not being seen anywhere. If she didn’t hate them before, she certainly would now after yesterday’s reception. The law always indicated that somebody is innocent of a crime until proven guilty, although everyone but him seemed to think the other way around. Whatever the case, Maverick made it his second goal in that journey to interact with Huntress and made her experience on the ship far better than what it was yesterday. He only hoped nobody misunderstood his friendship approach as him trying to cheat on Ilasi. No doubt she would be jealous if she had been in the voyage with them.

Veris' initial reaction was delayed, so shocked was he with what he was hearing. He needed a moment to process everything - Angora, leaving? She said it wasn't about him - but why, then? The other wyverns - why were they doing this? Draikon... he knew the man couldn't be trusted. Taking Angora away from him - that man was nothing but bad news ever since Veris laid eyes on him.
What could he do about all of this? Surely there was something he could do. There had to be... certainly? As he pondered, his expression remained blank - though he would have answered anything else by now, he seemed lost in his thoughts this time around.

Seraos received the message about the girl. He had his doubts - amnesia would be a very convenient excuse for a spy to not share anything - but he would, at the very least, see what means they could use to coax out these supposedly missing memories before resorting to anything drastic. For now, all he could do was wait and hope for the best.

Veris’ reaction was not what Angora was expecting. He just... stayed there, with a lost expression.
“Oh gosh! I broke him!” she said to herself, knowing that once Veris processed everything, he was going to freak out. She once had a similar expression back in Armon’s ship, when Maverick told her he wasn’t coming with her and try to escape his father, something she didn’t remember until recently.
“Listen Veris, it’s not like it’s goodbye forever. You will still have me for some months, and... once I leave, I’ll still visit you when I can. It’s not like we won’t see each other again.” she quickly assured, knowing that was probably not going to be enough for him. Things won’t be the same once she leaves the job for good, but seeing her once in a while was better than never.

Once Seraos received the message, the Pam flute was delivered to the nurse as it happened, and she gave it to the girl. It turns out that she could still play it.
“Hey wow, I didn’t know I could make pretty music.” she said innocently, making the guards doubtful about the truthfulness of her memory loss once they were out of their little trance. Despite playing the same beautiful music as before, it didn’t trigger the magic she used yesterday to escape. So perhaps it was true? It was so hard to tell. Even so, the hexphage was applied and she seemed harmless enough to see the king, so the guards started to take her to the palace, with no resistance from her part. Nobody was being mean to her, so she had no reason to resist, and while she was worried about being with a bunch of strangers, perhaps she did know them and couldn’t remember. Maybe they could help her remember her name...

As the satyr was escorted, General Lyon arrived on his temporary wyvern. Thanks to his rank, it didn’t take him long for him to see the monarch.
“My liege...” he said with a bow.
“I must ask you, has anything strange happened lately? I received an anonymous message that something could happen here.” the general said, making up the excuse before landing to avoid hesitating. He couldn’t say anything about the siren boy, and since he has been up in the air all this time, he hasn’t heard anything about his friend’s capture. An adult satyr could probably escape easily since their magic was lost to Aelinon, so they wouldn’t have a way to counter it. But this was a little girl, a very scared and inexperienced one most likely. If she hasn’t been captured yet, maybe there was a way to save her, but he dread to think what would happen if that wasn’t the case.

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Latnok was happy that the minotaur - Tizen, he called himself - was at least asking the question instead of automatically assuming. "We're best friends," he answered. "We cooperate and help each other do things that would be impossible alone. We've fought together on the battlefield, and have always come out on top. The nature of being a human with opposable thumbs versus a dragon with wings means we, naturally, take on different roles - but that's how it is.
Latnok prepared himself for any follow-up questions (which he believed were an inevitability.) Things were a little more complicated than some might get the impression of from a cursory look.

"Ah-- like a partnership, albeit a willing one. Tizen understands.. I think.," Tizen responded seemingly understanding the concept or so it seemed. "So you two are mount and rider? And the dog-- Chester was it --for scouting and hunting?," another Minotaur asked almost getting interrupted by another. "Did you begin that way or did you work your way up to it over time? Was your first flight the beginning of such a partnership/friendship or merely the end result?," the other minotaur asked genuinely curious as to what the process was. It wasn't a mystery that many mounts were bred or raised for flight, with the friendship initially only being an afterthought. It wasn't unheard to hear of a mount only becoming such as a result of an human(oid) friendship, but it was indeed a rare sight. Risar suspected that the crew might have many questions. At least they were breaking the ice so-to-speak now rather than later.

"O... okay..." Veris said reluctantly as he slouched in his disappointment. "I... understand." The problems were things outside of his control... or were they? Was Angora serious when she said that it wasn't his fault? Or was she just trying to spare him? Surely there was something he could do...
What was he doing wrong? If he wasn't doing anything wrong, then surely Angora would be satisfied? All he could do was ruminate on it...

Seraos was curious what would bring the general over on such short notice. "We recently caught a satyr attempting to reach me... a little girl. She injured one of the guards, and was eventually captured. She's due to speak with us before too long," he informed the general. "Naturally, satyrs are not something you commonly see around these parts. What brings you back - some intelligence on something? Perhaps involving whoever sent the girl?" Seraos did not seem particularly worried - confident that his men would sort the issue out in due time.

"Oh... that's a story that goes awhile back," Latnok answered as he reminisced about the time long past. "Our encounter was chance encounter, which led to mutual cooperation to take down some world menace. The journey took awhile, but not as long as the campaign against the Ishulgites that followed. We happened upon Chester while we were at Redwater in the time leading up to our voyage - his previous owners were not the most responsible people, and were about to eat him.
"Our relationship built from there, and the way the three of us work together is the end result of us building on the opportunities we've had," Latnok concluded. "The first flight was something that happened out of necessity - but we built on it from there, like everything else." The short explanation didn't really do enough justice to the full story, Latnok felt - but such a story would take much longer to tell, and inevitably involve tangents.

Angora was quiet most of the remaining afternoon. She could sense the overwhelming sadness and disappointment, despite saying he understood. Telling Veris the news was a huge weight off her chest, but one that wasn’t at all easy just the same. As she prepared to take him back to his enclosure to be in time for dinner, she felt like she needed to say something.
“Listen Veris, this... is not an easy decision. It took me a while to tell you this, but you might as well know long before it happens. And please, don’t hold it against your companions. Perhaps you don’t know it, but wyverns... eat trolls.” Angora confessed, deciding to be honest about that too. If Veris didn’t know before, he certainly did now.
“You are too cool and advanced to fall into such instincts of course... but your companions aren’t. They are lead by basic instincts, which is why I couldn’t befriend them. I don’t want you to hate them for that. Just as I don’t want you hating the humans for disliking me either. Most trolls are... pretty bad, but there are a few good of us out there. My brother, and, heh, that strange troll that loved shoes instead of spiky things. There are a few good, but because of the bad actions of most, we all end up paying the price. No matter the amount of good I do, there will still people out there that will dislike me for what I am rather for what I do. It’s... unavoidable. I have few friends, but what’s important is that the few I have are true and good. I’m... happy that way. And you will be too. You’ll see. Despite everything, I still have a better life than most of my kind.” Angora explained, trying to find ways to make Veris feel better. It was going to be a hard task, but she still had months with him.

“Injured?” Lyon exclaimed, finding it hard to believe a satyr would injure anybody. It had to be a misunderstanding, or an accident.
“Some of my warriors were looking for the shapeshifter, and they heard about...” he started to say, when the doors opened. A couple of soldiers were escorting said satyr girl to the king. They gave a respectful nod to the general, who had to remain as still as he could to avoid storming off with the girl and rescue her. He had to see what came next.

One of the soldiers was grasping the girl a bit hard, which she complained about, earning a disgusted glance from Lyon. The hexphage’s reaction was almost non existent, which meant that she wasn’t magical, or at least not too much. Could be her age or that whatever magic she used yesterday was the Pam flute’s doing rather than her own body.
“Hello... sir. Um, your majesty.” she said shyly, with a bow of respect after one of the soldiers told her to do so. General Lyon had to bite his lips to prevent himself from crying. A sacred creature in the clutches of Aelinon government could only spell trouble for her and the rest of the rare, endangered species that composed the Old Myth. The rare, once thought lost magic could certainly increase the power of Aelinon. If there was a way to convince the usually benevolent Seraos to release her without finding out much, all would be well...

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"Oh... that's a story that goes awhile back," Latnok answered as he reminisced about the time long past. "Our encounter was chance encounter, which led to mutual cooperation to take down some world menace. The journey took awhile, but not as long as the campaign against the Ishulgites that followed. We happened upon Chester while we were at Redwater in the time leading up to our voyage - his previous owners were not the most responsible people, and were about to eat him.
"Our relationship built from there, and the way the three of us work together is the end result of us building on the opportunities we've had," Latnok concluded. "The first flight was something that happened out of necessity - but we built on it from there, like everything else." The short explanation didn't really do enough justice to the full story, Latnok felt - but such a story would take much longer to tell, and inevitably involve tangents.

The minotaur crew listened-- understanding the concept of 'out of necessity.' "Neamas has a question and this one is for Raclaw.," one of the minotaurs began to speak up. "Do you ever fly on your own and do you use the typical dragon gear to do so? And to what extent?," he then asked interested in hearing an answer from the dragon's perspective. "To answer your questions-- yes, no, and it's complicated. While much of our time is spent well together, Latnok has not and would not prevent me from flying on my own. I am perfectly capable of such and I remain free to make my own decisions as I please. Occasionally, this does include free flight. And occasionally, Chester and I do go out for a flight of our own. He quite enjoys that-- feeling the wind against his fur and the warmth of my back while he remains secure via our own custom apparatus. Right?," the fur dragon responded lifting up his tail to reveal the very much permanent-at-this-point harness ring that held the lead necessary for dog-on-dog-dragon flight. He briefly paused before empathizing on the second and third question. 'It's complicated' didn't begin to describe them and they could offer a glimpse to what exactly that meant.

"To answer your second question in further detail, we do technically use an harness-- for several reasons. This harness is worn willingly on my part and, worst case scenario, can even be self-removed in case of an emergency. This harness DOES NOT include a bridle or bit or reins of any sort, nor does it support such additions. We use an harness for a few very specific reasons. The first and most important is Chester's safety; the harness ensures that both human and dog can ride safely while on my back. The second is for weight contribution and long-term comfort. We are perfectly capable of taking flight bareback, but the proper harness and proper training on the part of both rider and dragon can make a world of difference. We use a custom-made light weight harness that doesn't inpend me, while also offering the same benefits as just described. Latnok can add to this if he wishes, but I believe I have covered the basics.," Raclaw then said with Chester barking to agree with parts of the answers.

Maverick watched from a distance how Latnok, Raclaw and some minotaurs talk, though he was too far away to hear what they were talking about. Must be quite the conversation. Everyone looked intrigued by whatever the subject was. He was tempted to go there and join, but wasn’t sure if he would be welcomed. Latnok was probably feeling resentful for the way he cheered for Angora. The young Guardian respected him far more than he did the troll, but he doubted it was enough to be considered friends despite everything they went through. He decided to keep Icestorm’s company instead. It was less crowded, and being surrounded by minotaurs meant many horns near the face. Couldn’t be good.

At last, Huntress made an appearance at the main deck after several hours of her presence not being seen anywhere. She openly avoided any interactions, and remained as far away from everybody as possible. She even avoided Maverick... for the time being. The faun man noticed her, and was glad she finally left her cabin. He wanted to approach her, but then had a better idea.
“Look at her señor Icestorm. So lonely and probably believing everyone hates her after the way she was treated. Why don’t you break the ice first and go talk to her? Maybe you can apologize for what happened yesterday.” Maverick suggested, believing that it was better if someone other than him tried to befriend her first. He came to her defense yesterday, and him approaching her would be too predictable. Icestorm was better suited for the job. He strikes Maverick as the proud type, but not as much as Angora, and if he indeed worked for Orion now as he claimed, he should’ve learned patience and more benevolence.

Maverick simply shank his shoulders.
“So? You’re giving up even before you start? If she hates dragons, it’s nothing rare. Many people in Redwater do. I’ve seen it. As sad as it is, Oscurito made things worse.” he said shamefully.
“But what are you so worried about? You may look like a dragon, but aren’t one, and... your size is not exactly intimidating.” he said in a low voice to avoid offending him.
“And si, she looks... proud, but with a nickname like Huntress, I’m really not surprised.” Maverick then said quickly, curious now as to what her real name was. He doubted any parents would name a child like a hobby or profession. She was a bounty hunter, so the name fits. If she was someone he knew before, she probably told her her real name once. He would’ve remembered a name like Huntress. If only he could recall their first meeting, if there ever was one...

Huntress raised an eyebrow, looking behind her and seeing Maverick, who was walking around pretending he was minding his own business. But she was perceptive enough to know what was going on.
“Mr. Fluffy put you up to this, didn’t he?” she correctly guessed.
“Look, if there is one thing I hate more than dragons, is hypocrisy. You don’t have the decency or iniciative to approach me by your own terms. No. You need to be persuaded by someone else. Your judgement and suspicion yesterday made everyone go against me. Nothing more shameful than people who judge others without even knowing them. Now you come here and expect me to forgive you, and it wasn’t even an action that came by yourself. Why don’t you go play with some minotaurs or something and leave me alone?” Huntress said, refusing his apology. Name did not raise her voice once, but having it strained enough for anyone to tell she was furious. Once again, Maverick kept his goody, gentle man persona, and it was frustrating.

Huntress scoffed and rolled her eyes, already sick of the conversation... or maybe just the journey. It was her first voyage after all.
“Not only a hypocrite, but a liar too. Those aren’t your words. Those are his words!” she accused, pointing at Maverick, who didn’t notice.
“You know what? I never should’ve left my cabin!” she finally said, storming off and genuinely looking sick. The movement of the water was making her dizzy, and she didn’t want anybody finding out. Icestorm talking and interrupting her for a fake apology just made things worse.

She passed by Maverick, almost running.
“Oh. Hola, I...” he started to say but she pushed him aside rather roughly. Either he lowered his guard badly or the lady surely had some strength for her frail appearance.
“What happened?” Maverick asked Icestorm, figuring the apology attempt was a complete failure.

"Food? But... you are my..." Veris struggled, not even being able to finish the thought in his own language. had little left to say. He knew Angora well enough to have an idea of when his protests would be fruitless. All he could do at that point was slump in dejected acceptance. He would have to think... if other wyverns thought Angora was food, then...?

Seraos maintained a neutral expression as he remained seated a fair distance away, waiting to see how the satyr responded before pushing harder one way or another. Was this really a child? Or was this a facade? She had hexphage on her - so, at the very least, her shape would (or should) resemble her real shape. He would remain stern - but open. "Greetings, traveler. Unfortunately, it would seem that you aren't here under the most amicable of circumstances. Attempt to subvert security protocols on government territory, refusing a lawful order from a soldier of the Royal Guard, battery against a soldier of the Royal Guard fulfilling their lawful duty, multiple counts of use of magic to incapacitate a soldier of the Royal Guard fulfilling their lawful duty... and those are just the charges we don't have to dig for.
"You... you're just a little girl - right? Or maybe you just look like one. Either way, we may spare you the more cruel options, depending on what the experts have to say after their investigation. But listen - those crimes you committed? Those can get you put away for a long time. You'd be getting required schooling from a prison cell while other children got theirs in a classroom. The only song you'd ever hear there is the rattling of cell bars; but by the time you finally got out, you'd be so senile that it'd sound new and original every time."
Seraos paused briefly, to allow the child to consider what he said. "I'd prefer not to have to do that, however. If you're as young as you look, then you've made history by being the youngest person in Aelinon to willfully commit more than one felony in a single day. We don't even have precedent on charging someone like you for those crimes. BUT... I can be reasonable. We can forget all about this - like it never happened. I just need to know - why did you need to reach me so urgently? Why did you disobey and attack my Royal Guard when they told you the protocol? Why did you come here so prepared to manage multiple soldiers? Who sent you - and for what purpose?
"If you answer my questions appropriately, then we just pretend this never happened. You walk away, and no one but perhaps your parents will hear any further about this - or perhaps not, considering I don't recall ever having a single satyr on our census at any time. That's all I want - will you answer me, or will you answer one of our judges?"
Seraos still couldn't believe what he was seeing - or that he was personally dealing with... a child spy? Assassin? Whatever it was, she had broken precedent with the crimes she committed for her apparent age - and as a result, there were no laws giving her protection other than those that protected those younger than military age from execution, torture, or nonstandard punishment.

Angora landed Veris at the entrance of the base, knowing he was processing too much. The silence was driving her crazy after a while.
“It’s in their nature, so don’t hold it against them. I don’t want you to have a bad relationship with them because of me.” Angora quickly specified, not wanting Veris to hate his companions for something they did out of mere instinct. She wanted him to be friends with them, especially after she leaves. It would give him many to talk to in her absence.

She guided Veris to the enclosure, once again not needing to worry about the other wyvern’s attacking as long as the main dragon was around. It has been several hours since he hunted, so it was time for his dinner. Angora always made sure to give him an extra ration since he wouldn’t eat anything for the rest of the afternoon and throughout the night.

Quote: Spyroconvexity

“I tried to apologize but she thought you put me up to it. She has some pride in her.” Icestorm said.

Maverick groaned.
“Ugh, I knew I should’ve gotten out of view as soon as you started talking to her.” he complained, realizing that was a big mistake. He felt so sorry for Huntress.
“Well, the journey is barely beginning, so there will still be time to talk to her. I think it’s better if we just leave her alone for a while and let her have some time to cool off.” he suggested, knowing that her anger for yesterday’s treatment would still be fresh. They tried too quickly to befriend her.

In the cabin once more, Huntress had opened the window to throw up. Why the heck was she feeling so awful? Was it because Icestorm came to talk to her? No matter how much she disliked a conversation, it never gotten her to feel this bad. She knew little to nothing about sea life, and didn’t know the concept of getting seasick, so she naively believed either Icestorm did something to her or the lousy minotaur food made her stomach upset.

Raclaw's explanation was succinct and reasonable, leaving Latnok little to elaborate on. "As for how I manage... a bit of practice helps, but between my other training and my abilities, I'm able to make quick adjustments to compensate for the lesser support. This also means that, if need be, I can quickly separate myself in the air... which can, of course, be dangerous, but also quite useful - especially when you're fighting the sorts of monsters the Guardians often have to face, with a blind spot on top. Though we don't do as much fighting as we did before my promotion, we still take on the occasional bounty or commission... so we stay sharp."
Latnok subconsciously started giving Raclaw a petting as he continued. "Admittedly, I wasn't completely on board with the idea at first - it happened during a contingency, out of necessity. Despite what impression someone might have, fighting as Raclaw's rider was much easier for me than shooting a bow on horseback. Besides him just making me more effective, I also make him more effective, and our combined clairvoyance abilities give us battlefield awareness like no other."
Latnok pondered a moment to think of how to best explain such a thing. "To give you an example - guns. If someone behind some foliage were to take aim at us with one, we'd not only see the attack coming, but I could pinpoint his exact location and use force magic to make the thing backfire, and turn his face into a bed of shrapnel before he even realized he'd been seen."
Realizing territorial differences, Latnok wanted to make sure hos context was understood, though he was pretty sure it was. "You are familiar with guns, right? I ask because they're rare on Galadar - only producer of black powder besides some orc tribes is Aelinon, and the saltpeter that's needed is mostly located in the drier orc territories. They'd much rather use it for land mines, powder kegs, and the occasional cannon than a weapon that's prone to prone to bad weather or magical countermeasures and can easily be replaced with a bow or crossbow. Probably more common in some of the places you've likely visited - given that they're sometimes recovered from pirates, or are sold by merchants in Redwater."

The satyr girl hyperventilated as Seraos spoke. It was too much to process in so little time.
“Prison? Punishment!? I... committed a crime? Wha... what did I do? Why is this happening? I just want to know who I am and why my head hurts so much! I don’t even know where I live! Being with my parents will be good right now instead of this mean place! Why do you want to put me in prison!?” the girl answered, sobbing very hard until her face went red. Seraos looked like such a nice man, but now he was saying all these awful things about her. Even though she lost most of her memory, she was certain she wouldn’t hurt anybody, not on purpose at least. If somebody was hurt, it was her, whose head felt so much pain. She fell on her knees, still crying like any little girl who was being scolded. Despite Seraos’ suspicions, the truth was she was just a scared little thing whose intentions had been innocent all along.

Soon after Seraos talked, general Lyon asked for a quick recap of what happened from the moment she appeared to the moment of her capture. He was terrified. He knew that a satyr would never hurt anyone on purpose, and if there was an injured guard, no doubt she kicked him out of fear and struggle instead of malicious intent.
“Sire, please forgive my boldness, but if I may intercept this conversation, I just got the news. If this... satyr was really out to hurt you, she wouldn’t have turned herself in like she did. Any thug or trained assassin wouldn’t go down without a fight, even less give themselves willingly, especially if they know what kind of punishment Aelinon can bestow upon them. Besides, this is a satyr. When was the last time any of us saw one?” General Lyon explained, not knowing if Seraos was putting the girl to the test or if he really was planning to give her all those punishments. Despite the memory loss, the mention of the word satyr reminded the girl she was such a creature. She was trying not to cry any further, but couldn’t stop. General Lyon, he looked so scary, yet ironically, the one who was intimidating was being kinder to her than the one she believed was gentle. Looks really could be deceiving.

Seraos listened prudently - though he disliked being interrupted, he never wanted his more experienced men to feel unable to speak on most critical matters.
Making no protest, he managed to suppress any visible indignation at the implication that he was too dull to consider the obvious facts, and cruel enough to line out such a punishment for a child without further thought. "I appreciate your deductions, General," he began calmly as he leaned slightly forward and turned to Lyon, being very prudent with when he chose to raise his voice with his men - such a thing lost its significance if done too much, while making him appear mean-spirited and closed-minded.
It certainly helped, however, that he didn't need to raise his voice - being quite adept with the nuances of speech, he could come across just as effectively with a rigid, carefully measured tone and the right words.
"However, as you probably know, that does not even begin to scratch the surface of all of the unknowns as to why or how these events happened, or were capable of happening. I do not know nearly as much as I need to about many things, which is why I always ask questions of those who do - or may - have such knowledge. I understand your concerns, General; but if you are unaware, I do not have any heirs. In case I gave you such an impression, I do not have any secret concubines that I waste time with in hours of drinking, merriment, and debauchery with my favorite nobles, waking up the next day too hungover to sign my name on a decree I had some scribe draft on my behalf. I am a busy man, with no time for frivolities; almost all of my waking hours are spent in the effort to better our great people and nation, now and for generations to come, and those that aren't are spent ensuring I'm healthy enough to not stumble off, break my skull, and incite a civil war while trying to mount a wyvern. The people and nation are the very same people and nation which, both upon your first enlistment and when you earned and received your commission, you swore to protect and defend from any threats, certain or potential, present or future, within or without our borders.
"I like to be careful, general; but if you think my caution is unreasonable and I am being needlessly cruel and sadistic to a child because of the most obvious conclusions from what we know so far, then I hope that, in the event of my premature passing because of an enemy who has accounted for us being smart enough to see the obvious and soft enough to delve no further because of their choice of agent, you remember and are prepared to honor your oath, come whatever may; without any heir, that should ideally mean that either you and the other leading generals are prepared to swiftly and uniformly prepared to enact nationwide martial law to maintain order until a reasonable power transfer can be arranged, or that you are prepared to side with a leader you feel will do more for our people than I can, and have a swift plan to win to minimize the bloodshed of our own people.
"We have neither had any internal efforts to overthrow the throne since the brief and bloody Ishulgite uprising about five years ago; nor have you and the other generals conducted a swift coup and had me captured and publicly executed. Given those things, I like to believe that both our great people and the most knowledgeable, experienced, and proven authorities they rely on believe I am a good, or at least acceptable leader; or that I have potential to be a good or acceptable leader by experience or education; or, ideally not but at a bare minimum failing those two things, every other person or group capable of gaining power would be a worse leader. If you believe that I have made a reasonable judgment in that regard, then I pray you understand why I do not believe my actions are selfish or unreasonable, or can forgive me if you feel so; and if that is the case, then I would appreciate if you were to allow me to continue negotiating in a way that I see fit, or, at the very least, attempt to avoid interrupting me in a way that presents me to our guest as incompetent, tyrannical dullard who struggles to have as much of a basic understanding of reasoning or morality. On the other hand, General... if, in accordance with my worst fears, you do not believe the judgment I have made is correct, but instead believe that I am a cruel, incapable potentate who is unable or unwilling to change, then I will tell you - you had better be planning or imminently conducting a swift coup, with a plan to transfer power to someone or some group suitable. Such a thing would have to entail and be marked by my public execution by slow burning or crucifixion, the people I've failed cheering as you catalogue my crimes against them, and again as they cheer for the brighter future you present with your instructions on the following transfer of power. If you have such a belief, and are alone in it, it is understandable that you would avoid instigating a potentially bloody uprising against the will of others; but if you and all of the other generals legitimately believe those things, and you know the sentiment is widespread, and yet you all do nothing, then you are all traitors to your oaths for allowing a tyrant to bring to ruin the nation you were sworn to protect."
Seraos came upright from his slight leaning.
"Now, General, I think it's more likely that this was probably an uncharacteristic lapse in your usually sound judgment, and your concern upon seeing a child caused you to instinctively intervene at the first sign of a threat to her; as I've said, however, I'm a careful man. Just now, you seemed to imply that you needed to interrupt our talk to tell me that this child wasn't seriously trying to kill me, based on what we know - as if I was some craven who is so irrationally fearful of even children that I struggle to think of anything beyond immediately being cruel in retaliation. I would hope that, if this means you feel that I am so wanting in the basics of critical concepts after the time I've already been king, you consider whether someone so deficient and depraved for so long is capable of changing and should still be in power. I'd like to think that I am constantly striving to improve myself as a leader, and use power as a means to an end rather than reveling in the thrill of swinging it around like a maul where I can; but if my most trusted men do not have reason to believe such a thing seeing my actions, then they may as well be right, and my words and beliefs in that regard are meaningless."

Seraos slowly turned back to the child, his previous expression replaced by a cold, incredulous gaze; given that General Lyon had already stepped in to defend her from him, his efforts to show his capability for compassion were a waste at this point, and he believed it would be counterproductive to continue. "Now, then. Amnesia is the most obvious excuse in the world for someone to make to avoid answering things they should know. Do you really think I believed the human mage who claimed he had no idea how an earth spike trap spell, using runes in his handwriting, got in a path people knew or could expect I'd be taking that day? Or how he didn't know about how a spellbook documenting the nuances of such a spell ended up in his library, with footnotes in his handwriting? How odd that three of his friends reported him going on a drunken tirade two days prior about the vulgar acts I supposedly conduct on galud males because I signed the laws which had him fined, for an incident where he decided that a gaudy show of blinding, flashing lights at night was an appropriate way to throw a surprise proposal for a woman who didn't appreciate his lack of consideration.
"That was as much a coincidence as the merman who couldn't remember how he wound up with poisoned crossbow bolts and a crossbow on his person, while tracking me and my escort from a pond before being arrested. Of course, this man was coincidentally speaking loudly in a full tavern about how great it'd be if a merman could finally be in charge if I were to die soon. Dumb enough to not expect the Silent Spear to take a look into things after that; also dumb enough to not realize that his crossbow was rusted and rotted from being kept underwater, and the thing couldn't fire a bolt even if the Silent Spear didn't get the drop on him; of course he'd be dumb enough to think someone would buy his amnesia excuse.
"What you might not realize is that I don't actually have to do anything myself; you committed the crimes, and our laws will treat you just as they do any other criminal. Your punishment is by default; and I have no pity for anyone who hurts my men. Even children know that attacking authority figures is bad; your supposed ignorance is not an excuse here.
"I'll give you some time to cool off and jog your memory in one of the guest rooms. Next time we speak, I will want the same answers; and if you do not help me, you should not count on my intervention."
Seraos waved to have his men escort the child. "Take the flute and have our researchers analyze it," he added before settling back down. "And get the hexphage off. I'll be leaving here after getting some reports, but returning before sunset; I'll need her brought back here when I get back."

General Lyon was usually a very composed merman, but the king’s reaction took him off guard. He has forgotten how sensible the king could be with certain topics. It’s clear that too many incidents were still fresh in his memory, making him overly cautious about everything and everyone.
“My apologies sire. There is no way I meant to question your judgement or methods. I was just stating an honest... and misplaced opinion.” General Lyon explained, keeping it brief to avoid making things worse. The satyr girl didn’t listen too much of his speech. It was just too much to process for her forgetting little brain.

She started paying attention though when the king addressed to her directly. She tried being calmer, but couldn’t after hearing the man was still treating her like a criminal.
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about! I swear! If I hurt anybody, I’m sorry! Please! I just want to remember my name and go home! I won’t come back! No, Please! Stop pulling me!” the satyr girl complained, still crying uncontrollably. One of the soldiers was smart enough to remember what happened yesterday, so holding her belly down, had her legs tied up to prevent her from kicking anyone again. Since she couldn’t walk anymore, she had to be dragged.
“Sir! Please! Help me!” she begged Lyon, reaching out to the only one that stood up for her, but the merman general looked away coldly, knowing that by interrupting the king, he almost gave himself and the girl away. It wasn’t like anybody to question the king like that, and if Lyon was so certain about her innocence, Seraos would demand an explanation as to why he was so convinced. There was nothing he could do... right now. What an awful day this was! If Seraos found out about the Old Myth and what they could do, he might decide to invade them and exploit their power and resources to increase his own. That would be a tragedy bigger than the faun extinction. What could he do? He couldn’t help the satyr girl without arising suspicions. But maybe... there was someone who could help a lot...

Seraos looked on coldly as he saw the men carry out his orders. Though he was simply expecting an escort, he quickly remembered what they were dealing with, and made no protest. If this girl truly was innocuous and really did have amnesia, and the events leading her to where she was were nothing concerning, then this would be a cruel twist of fate...
"Iacta alea est." As he muttered softly to himself, statisticians were gathering various data, to indicate any unusual or concerning trends to him if they found them, as per his request; Seraos would normally call for an advisor, or try to clear his head for a moment and ponder issues, but General Lyon's presence was sufficient.
"General, tell me - how many times have I made a threat or a warning, but changed my mind or didn't follow through when it came to it?" He knew what Lyon's answer would be, and that it would be the correct answer - and he knew Lyon would deduce what he was getting at.

General Lyon had already anticipated the king asking him more questions as soon as the girl was out of view, so he prepared to answer anything.
“None my liege. You’re absolutely right. I must apologize once more for the misguided opinion. I should’ve known better than to question your judgement. I know you are a most fair monarch. It’s just... seeing her cry like that reminded me so much of my daughter Lydia, many years ago. But I should know better than to let emotions get in the way of anything. It’s not becoming of a general. It won’t happen again my king.” the general said with a bow, knowing he almost exposed his neck earlier. He knew Seraos has made many threats before, but should’ve remembered he would always try to be fair to everyone and would never condemn an innocent, not even if it was a creature as despicable as a troll.

Back at the Guardian’s base, Angora was bringing food for Veris. He had a very neutral expression, nothing like she was used to see, especially when she brought his meals.
“I’ll... leave you to eat now Veris. Once again, I’m sorry. I’ll... see you tomorrow. Sleep well.” Angora said, giving a brief hug to the wyvern. It felt... cold. He was a reptile, but the touch felt colder than usual. Was Veris angry? Sad? Disappointed? Or simply emotionless? Not wanting to linger there any longer, Angora proceeded to leave so that he could be alone in his thoughts. He had too much to process, but after a heavy meal and a good night’s sleep, hopefully, he will feel much better in the morning.

Quote: A Guy

Latnok subconsciously started giving Raclaw a petting as he continued. "Admittedly, I wasn't completely on board with the idea at first - it happened during a contingency, out of necessity. Despite what impression someone might have, fighting as Raclaw's rider was much easier for me than shooting a bow on horseback. Besides him just making me more effective, I also make him more effective, and our combined clairvoyance abilities give us battlefield awareness like no other."
Latnok pondered a moment to think of how to best explain such a thing. "To give you an example - guns. If someone behind some foliage were to take aim at us with one, we'd not only see the attack coming, but I could pinpoint his exact location and use force magic to make the thing backfire, and turn his face into a bed of shrapnel before he even realized he'd been seen."
Realizing territorial differences, Latnok wanted to make sure hos context was understood, though he was pretty sure it was. "You are familiar with guns, right? I ask because they're rare on Galadar - only producer of black powder besides some orc tribes is Aelinon, and the saltpeter that's needed is mostly located in the drier orc territories. They'd much rather use it for land mines, powder kegs, and the occasional cannon than a weapon that's prone to prone to bad weather or magical countermeasures and can easily be replaced with a bow or crossbow. Probably more common in some of the places you've likely visited - given that they're sometimes recovered from pirates, or are sold by merchants in Redwater."

Raclaw naturally didn't object to the petting-- even leaning into it as Latnok continued to explain. The petting was one of his most obvious canine traits, although it certainly wasn't unique to canines and didn't need explaining. It seemed only natural for any animal/humanoid friendship; either one party learns to accept it or both parties eventually develop the habit over time. He couldn't entirely recall rather he had (sub?)consciously pushed it on Latnok or if Latnok himself had subconsciously developed the habit. Either way, it mattered not. Nether party at present objected to it, rather it be initiated by Latnok himself or occasionally.. at his own request. And a rider petting their mount wasn't exactly an unexpected characteristic of that unique relationship either.

"Ah guns-- Neamas understands. Master had a gun; it was one of his prized processions. Once described it as an miniature cannon in.. subhuman terms.," the minotaur spoke seeming as if he had substituted one word for another, not quite finding the right word to do so with. Raclaw-- without meaning to --picked up on a quick glimpse of a memory, of a flashback? - A master, a cruel one, threatened to shoot it's property if it ever tried anything. He claimed he had never seen the gun in action and that a walking cow would make just as good as a target of any. He pulled the gun out of its case and showed that it was loaded, before pointing it at the so-called property and locking it back into its glass case. 'Remember that you belong to me and that I can do with you what you wish. Like your brother.,' the master spoke in a calm but threatening tone. - "Guns aren't entirely common, but we do see them enough among our travels.," Risar confirmed. Raclaw didn't mean to touch upon the memory, but didn't say anything not wanting Neamus to know that he had seen that moment. Risar had a brother, didn't he? Or rather two brothers? He hoped for Risar's sake that they were still both out there.. somewhere.

Tizen spoke up, perhaps to change the subject. "Tizen's been wondering. The museum, erm its old alliteration, didn't say much about Raclaw's past before you and him became partners/friends. Did he have a previous human, for lack of better words, or were you his first? You mentioned a chance encounter and you mentioned saving the dog-- Chester --from a previous abusive owner. You seem to have a thing about saving creatures or individuals from past lives. I can see why you and Risar got along, he directly or indirectly saved many of us in more ways than one. And we owe him that, for giving us a life or freedoms or both. I.. I merely wonder. I don't mean to prive if its too personal.," he said with Raclaw offering Latnok a visual 'okay' in the form of a nod.

Seraos seemed mollified by the general's response. "The moment I fail to follow through on a threat, General, is the moment, people figure that I am a man who bluffs - that I am reluctant to back up what I say. When they figure that... then my words may not have the effect they need when I need them to, when people are gambling on me not meaning what I say.
"Here, I warned this child that if she would not help me, then I''d leave her to our legal system. I'm hoping this causes her to drop the act; if not, though, then I will do as I say. It will be a sign to anyone observing that their agents will not be immune because of their age; knowing this, those who would have done such a thing will likely choose not to.'
Seraos sighed. "You're free to leave if you have anything else to attend to, General. need to get to the bottom of this. But a satyr child means that, at the very least, there were adults alive not too long ago; that gives potential for a population. Not within our borders, or we would have known of it long ago; doubtful it'd be among the Silvianesti, as they would have had such a thing documented... now what would be the most likely places? Maybe the Ardent Guardians would know something? Hmm..."

Veris didn't start eating immediately; he remained slumped as Angora left, and ate slowly as he continued to think about everything. Angora leaving... the other wyverns... that human... not his fault? This wasn't right, though - why did everything change now? The other wyverns... the human... they had to be responsible... Angora wouldn't just leave him, right? Was he really just a bad wyvern, and Angora didn't want to tell him? Would she do that?

"Oh, Raclaw's own past? Let's see..." Latnok said as he tried to think of the best way to discuss it. "Well, long story short, Raclaw had actually been dealing with the Ardent Guardians since birth, since he was a... special case. He grew up in the home of a family willing to take care of him. Unfortunate events involving the Guardians involved led to him being - forgotten? More like abandoned - abandoned unintentionally. He left on his own to learn more about things - and our encounter was just pure chance. I had taken leave from the Guardians to pursue some ambitions of mine, but returned shortly after that incident. We have been working together every since."
The full situation would have been much more of a mouthful - but it wasn't necessary to understand it all. At least, that's what Latnok figured - having been involved, his own perspective might have filled in information others could not.

Raclaw found the explanation simple, but nevertheless satisfactory. He thought back to his past and rather he would've changed anything that happened if he could-- and he wouldn't. If the Guardians hadn't unintentionally lost and abandoned him, he would've (or rather might've) never developed such interesting and unique abilities I.E. talking to animals. If he hadn't set off on his own at the right place and the right time, he would've never met Latnok and the same circumstances that led to their unique bond might've never happened. He would've never connected with Shade and Latnok, the former connection being the initial catalyst to the latter. He would've never given his own collar (or at least not to Latnok) and he might've never reached a point where he finally accepted an harness, an important step and one that changed how and Latnok saw the world-- forever. He would've never received his beloved drow magic-infused tail artifact nor the bandana nor would he have even unlocked (and eventually perma-locked) his own collar. So many things would've been different, and perhaps for the worse considering his previous luck in 'the wild.' He still couldn't properly hunt, not that he needed to.

"I can say with confidence that Latnok changed my life for the better-- he gave me purpose and friendship and so much more.," Raclaw said leaning his head into the Guardian-turned-rider. He recalled how Latnok was, for a time, uncomfortable with that term.. rider and mount. It was perhaps because of their immediately associated terms; rider translated to 'master' and mount translated to 'beast of burden.' Both were technically accurate descriptors of their working relationship/jobs, although he never felt Latnok to be a burden to him. He was happy to be in his current place and he wouldn't change that for the world. He didn't care how others saw him; he was happy to be with Latnok and he was happy to be owned.. while retaining all the freedoms that mattered to him. Latnok had given him every opportunity in the world to say no, and he never did. The guardians had given him every opportunity to say no-- Sere certainly would've bailed him out at a moment's notice --and he never did. The only thing that was missing was his parents and maybe maybe an mate. But he wasn't holding out for the latter. For now.. Latnok was enough. And his parents would be icing on the rainbow trout-flavored delicacy.

This let a subtle-but-noticeable smile loose on Risar's face. The minotaur was pleased to see that Latnok and Raclaw were quite happy with one another.

General Lyon remained composed, knowing that a slight hint of frustration would make the king get suspicious. Was the satyr girl indeed faking her amnesia in order to protect her homeland? Or was it the real deal? Not even he knew the answer to that. One thing he knew though was that a satyr would never hurt anyone on purpose, even less be trained assassins. The better question was, why the heck was she there? Didn’t the society ever told her how dangerous Aelinon, and humans in general could be? There had to be a way to save her without anyone finding out where she lived.
“I have nothing to say about the matter your highness. I shall leave now. We still need to find the shapeshifter.” the general said, leaving the room. He looked like the stoic, professional general he was that simply faltered that one moment, but inside, he was screaming hysterically. How could this happen? Why? Satyrs, along with the rest of the Old Myth, could be in very mortal danger if Seraos found out the coordinates of their island and decided to invade. The sea didn’t have the storm that once protected (entrapped) the archipelago from travelers anymore, so arriving there was much more easier than before. He had one particular person in mind that could help... one that probably had more influence than he did...

Angora closed the pen, giving one last look at Veris. To her shock, he didn’t start eating right away. That NEVER happens. His level of anguish had to be humongous for something like that to happen. But she didn’t want to bother him any longer and left without saying anything else. He had to eat eventually or the food would spoil. She remained alert, and even though the wyverns glared, no attacks were attempted. She went to the cafeteria, but didn’t want to stay there, so she grabbed some food and went to her room.
“Well Neo, finally got that off my chest. Oh boy, I know he’s upset now... but... I think it’s better that way. It’s better if I tell him this soon than waiting at the last moment and not give him any time to get use to the idea of not having me around... I think?” Angora said, not even certain if it was the right decision. She was afraid that the news would affect their relationship badly, to the point Veris could even start hating her. It was too late to back away though. He knew everything now, and she could only hope that with time, he would understand why she was making such a drastic decision.

Seraos, in the meantime, waited for the report which would soon arrive. As he did, he pondered - who else besides General Lyon questioned his decisions when when it came to critical moments? Was this really just a temporary lapse in judgment, or did Lyon just let some deep-seated feelings slip in the moment? Were his days actually numbered? Had he actually slipped too far into being irredeemable, neither having realized it nor having had anyone warn him?
How could he get to what his people really thought about him? Such sentiment was hard to be open about, with many fearing retaliation for their openness - but what could he do? He tried to check the statistics that correlated with various parts of satisfaction - such as how well the needs of people were being met - but those could only go so far.
How could his own father afford to spend so much time on frivolities when, despite his outward appearance of calm, he often felt like he was a slip away from ending up on the execution platform, if not the end of some assassin's dagger? Why did some advise him to rest more, when he didnt even have the time to deal with the issues that mattered?
He sincerely hoped that girl had answers for him regarding her appearance there. Such questions being unanswered would continue to plague him. He wondered if his researchers could find anything regarding the flute that could help. Perhaps deconstructing it would prove useful.

Latnok was satisfied with Raclaw's own statements, reaffirming his own devotion. "And so that brings us here - we have a lead that points to the area we're headed as a potential location of Raclaw's parents, so we're hoping to find them," Latnok said. "Got some help back at base with a tool to dispel illusions that might be used to keep the island out of sight - here's hoping the residents don't take that as an invitation to a fight - I'd prefer not to, but I'm sure as hell prepared to give it to them after all we've been through so far."
Latnok wondered how much Maverick would care to fight if it came to it, with Angora, seemingly who he cared about most, being absent from the voyage. Latnok himself had long since stopped sparing a thought for the troll, having already accepted her incorrigibility and having moved on to more important matters, so wasn't aware of how close she and Maverick still were beyond Maverick's own toasting.

The satyr girl was taken to a room that was slightly better than the usual cells, although it was still a prison regardless. The guards didn’t want to resort to torture just yet, so they tried convincing her with treats and promises that the king would go easy on her if she cooperated. But she still insisted that her mind was foggy and couldn’t remember anything. While they didn’t know if her amnesia was faked, the wound on her head was no doubt real. The nurse confirmed it. Her hair covered it, but there was no mistaken that the blunt force trauma she suffered wasn’t made up.
“Alright. You don’t want to say anything after all these promises and delicious snacks? Fine. Well now, I guess the king wouldn’t mind putting a kid in the arena. Even if you survive all the battles ahead, the’ll still be a behemoth waiting. Creatures as big as a mountain... which will certainly enjoy a little bit of... new meat.” the guard interrogating her taunted, but it just caused the girl to get into a fetal position.
“Why do you do this to me? I told you, I can’t remember anything! Why won’t you believe me!? I said I was sorry for whatever I did! Take me to the one I hurt or anything! I don’t want to die!” she begged, crying again. This was getting too annoying. The guard then left her in the room, locking the door and writing a recap to the king and requesting permission to use more drastic measures on the little beast.

Up in the air, General Lyon was pressuring his wyvern mount to go faster, something that displeased it greatly. He had to get to Redwater, fast!
“Forgive me your magnificence. But this is an emergency. This man, he has to help!” General Lyon urged the wyvern, feeling sorry for rushing it. There was only one man that might be able to help the poor girl. Just one...

During the voyage, Maverick and Icestorm sat on some chairs, making some trivial conversation. He found it funny the way the younger minotaurs surrounded Latnok and his companions as if they were very famous. But after the moments has passed, he looked at the sea again.
“You know, no matter how many times I try to leave my seafaring days behind, the ocean always manages to ensnare me again. The sea should be calmer now, and this is for señor Leoquin, but still, it’s very ironic.” Maverick commented, once again making sure the merman wasn’t around to hear it and mistake his comment for him complaining. This was for him... and Raclaw.

Seraos received the request from the guard while reviewing the most pertinent data provided by his analysts - which led to a consideration of where roads could be upgraded to employ craftsmen while reducing the delay between some cities in regards to transporting important goods. In his written response, he rejected the guard's request - children being exempt from the arena, execution, torture, and unusual punishment in general. If she couldn't provide the information he requested, he would just hand her over to the legal system and have them take care of her in the usual manner, as he had said he would.
With such a thing taken care of, he had to prepare to leave to talk with the governor of Tal Rogas regarding matters around the city, especially in the wake of what had happened. The girl would be brought before him once again when he returned later that day; he hoped, for her sake as well as his, that she had the answers he requested.

The satyr girl was a crying mess in her prison, with the guards awaiting for the king’s response. As the time passed, General Lyon arrived at Redwater, receiving a scold from the wyvern handler for pushing the creature too much. He apologized and gave the guy an extra tip, then headed to his destination; Draikon’s home. The scientist was quite the nut job, but his influence, along with his inventions and cures, were no joke. He has provided great services to Aelinon, and it was no secret how obsessed he was with mythical creatures, including the now likely extinct faun. If he found out about a satyr being in Tal Rojas, he had no doubts he would want to get involved. He knocked on the door.
“Open up! General Lyon here. I am in need of your services Mr. Draikon!” he called as he knocked, but there was no response. He asked one of the nearby kids if he left, but the answer was negative. Was he doing another one of his experiments? He wasn’t going to leave until the scientist answered...

At a faraway island, there was a severe uproar. Two of their beloved children were missing, and the sirens just announced that one of their whales was gone as well. Everyone feared the worst. How the heck did they not noticed the children leaving the island?
“Calm yourself! Listen to me everyone! I will track them! If they are not on the nearby islands, then... the important thing is that we have a friend in General Lyon! I will find the missing children! That I promise.” Sergeant Farlo assured to the distraught society, praying that the children weren’t dumb enough to go to the same land he went to the other day. The mere thought of having their precious kids on a continent full of humans, the bringers of wars and destroyers of everything beautiful, was worst than any nightmare they could have in their sleeps.

Leoquin, in the meanwhile, was drawing on one of his maps in his room, having returned soon after the meal. His drawings noted the current charted course, and extrapolations based on known conditions. The island was a big unknown - but hopefully Latnok's equipment would be able to get a read sooner rather than later.
As much as he hoped he would find what he sought, he began to wonder if this would just be one failed lead amongst many.

Seraos, in the meantime, had reached the town hall of Tal Rogas in short order. Discussing plans with the governor, there was the matter of security at the forefront of the conversation; though shapeshifters were brought up as a concern with the dragon, the satyr did not seem to have any such capabilities.
As the two (and relevant advisors) discussed the matter, they gradually came to a solution: checkpoints in the inner city, closer to the castle. Anyone passing these checkpoints would be subject to a very thorough search of their person, and any transports would have their cargo thoroughly searched as well. The measures would be in place until further notice.

The satyr girl still begged to be released, her face pale and baggy eyes. She would get ignored or scolded. After about half an hour, the guard received the king’s response, a reply he was expecting.
“Well little girl, looks like your case will go to trial. Unless you start talking, I suggest you prepare for the worst.” the guard warned coldly, leaving the screaming girl behind, locked and alone. She asked if she could at least have her Pam flute back to make music while she was there, but naturally, the request was denied. It was time to start planning her fate, signing document to take her case to court as soon as possible.

After what looked like an entire hour, Draikon finally answered the door, looking tired and... covered in dirt? Just in what kind of experiments was he up to now? There were rumors that he was starting to work more on plants lately, but nobody was certain.
“Ah. General Lyon. Surprised to see you here.” the older scientist said, the general and his warriors rarely leaving the ocean. But he suspected they were out more often lately on account of the shapeshifter. General Lyon couldn’t believe how much like a homeless man he looked like. He wasn’t the best when taking care of his physical appearance, though everyone knew how obsessively he trimmed his small beard.
“Good afternoon my good man. I have some very urgent news. May I come in?” General Lyon asked, which piqued the scientist’s curiosity. He let him in.
“What I must tell you must remain between us. Please promise me. I can promise you that once you see what I got, you’ll want to keep your promise.” the nervous general said, surprising Draikon. He was usually such a serious, stoic merman.

General Lyon proceeded to tell him everything that happened in Tal Rojas, except of course, his affiliation with the Old Myth. He wanted to keep that a secret from everybody, even Draikon. The scientist’s face beamed at the mention of a satyr being in Aelinon, but went red with fury when he heard the rest of the story.
“Ugh! Foolish Seraos! Just when I start to believe he’s a fair king, he has to do something so stupid! A satyr! They haven’t been seen in YEARS, yet all he cares about is treating one, a child no less, like one of his many criminals, likely because of some silly mistake! He’s still just a paranoid, little boy.” Draikon vented, desiring to give the young monarch a harsh sermon for his ridiculous decision. He refused to believe the satyr girl injured that guard on purpose. It HAD to be an accident. In the few history books that existed about the mythical creatures of old, none ever said satyrs were violent. Mischievous pranksters maybe, but just like their closest relatives, the fauns, they were a peaceful race, never out to hurt anybody. Unlike the possible case of fauns, satyrs weren’t extinct, and there was too little data to consider them endangered. They were so rarely seen that many people spent their entire lives without ever seeing one though. Everything Draikon was working at, it would have to wait. This was vital information...

By the time Seraos was done speaking with the governor, the two had decided; in addition to the checkpoints, a large part of the surrounding area would also be restricted airspace, requiring anyone who wanted to reach the castle to go the rest of the way on the ground. These actions were going to be immediately implemented; by the time Seraos had left, the legate of the city was already giving the orders.
As Seraos returned to the castle, the guards needed no further instruction; they immediately sent for the satyr to meet with him. This would be her last chance - the judges, after all, were not known to be particularly sentimental or soft.

The satyr was being escorted back to the castle, once again with her legs tied. She has cried so much her eyes were dry. And the struggle has been so much that she has ceased all resistance. She didn’t know if she really has done something so wrong or if these people were just plain evil, but if the threats were to be believed, her very life could be in danger, or worst, her entire lifestyle, if Seraos truly planned to give her permanent imprisonment. Nobody believed her amnesia was genuine, so she tried very hard to remember who she was and why was she there so that Seraos could be pleased and maybe show some mercy.

As much as he hated traveling by wyvern, Draikon knew it was the fastest option. He was quite surprised by the general’s compassion for the satyr girl. If it had been another, they could care less about her predicament. What was the deal with him? He decided that he didn’t care either.
“Not to worry my dear general. I wouldn’t dream of tarnishing your reputation. Nobody would know what we just talked about. Look, I’ve been working on this new experiment. A fruit that can grow it’s food in a matter of hours instead of the usual days. We’ll just pretend I decided to show this marvel today by mere coincidence. Run along and do your usual general stuff.” Draikon assured, dismissing Lyon. So the rumors about him working on plants were true after all. That was quite the progress. The general had no choice but to trust the gentleman would keep his promise. It wasn’t unusual for the scientist to show up unexpectedly in Tal Rojas to show off one of of his experiments, especially one that could help the people like that. A small tree that could grow fruits in a matter of hours was bound to solve many hunger problems, and they could indeed pretend it was just a coincidence Draikon chose this particular day to show it.

Quote: Spyroconvexity

“The sea has many wonderful powers. We may not see or feel it but it draws every living thing to it. After all it is the largest body of water here.” Icestorm said

Maverick smiled, Icestorm speaking differently ever since associating with Orion. How he has changed for sure, although his impulsiveness was still there. He wondered how Huntress was doing, unaware that the poor woman was incredibly seasick. It was going to take her a while getting used to the movement of the ship.

As the sirens in Myth island prepared the whales for a massive search, Sergeant Farlo volunteered to travel to the horrible continent where he was attacked in order to search for the kids there. He found it unlikely they would travel so far, but the parents were fearful that was the case, since their children, being such close friends and usually talking about peace with the humans, suspected they went along with the dangerous plan. Others would search for the adjacent island in the meantime. It didn’t matter if it took weeks or even months, the centaur was determined to get their precious offsprings back safe and sound.

Seraos was, as scheduled, waiting for the new arrival on the relatively modest throne. When the guards had set her down and given her some space, he began, as he leaned forward slightly, looking at her coldly and indifferently.
"Welcome back, satyr," he greeted. "I hope you have had enough time to 'recall' some of the more pressing details of the incident. I'll repeat myself: throwing a child in prison? Not something I would prefer to do - I much prefer answers. Once again, I'll give you your options: if you tell me what I need to know, then we can avoid all of this. I let you go, and it's as simple as that. We forget about what happened. You just walk away.
"If you do not, however? Then there is no benefit to me for not backing the men you hurt as they acted on my behalf. My courts will deal with you like they do anyone else - and as your crimes are undeniable, that will leave you decades upon decades to think about what you've done. So - what will it be? Will you help us both? Or will you keep playing this game and see just how far things can go?"
Seraos leaned back as he awaited the answer. "The choice is yours."

The satyr girl flinched, visibly straining with much thinking. She hyperventilated as she tried to recall something as simple as her name, or at least the reason why she was there in the first place. Anything that would please the king into finally letting her go.
“I’m trying! I honestly am! All I know is that I’m a satyr, and I can make pretty music with a Pam flute.” she said as she went deep in thought again.
“I... um, I’m... I think I’m a bit older than ten.” she commented, trying with all her might, but at the moment, nothing else came.
“I swear I’m trying! Honest, but that’s all I can remember right now! If telling you everything makes me free, don’t you think I’ll be doing it right now? Everyone here treats me so horrible! Please, I swear I’m trying, but... something is wrong with my head!” the satyr girl assured, begging Seraos to show mercy. The brain was quite a mystery, even for the most skilled wizards and doctors, so nobody can tell if her amnesia was genuine or if she was simply a very good actress. One of the guards restraining her moved her hair upwards so that the king could see her wound and be convinced that, at least that part, wasn’t a lie.

Since Neo didn’t answer and it was still a bit early, Angora proceeded to pass the time by cleaning her room. Didn’t take long since the place was very small to begin with. Should she sleep in Veris’ enclosure and keep him company? She used to do it sometimes at the Enduring Legacy, but never dared to do it here. She was afraid she could drift apart from the cage and be captured by the other wyverns, or Veris could turn around in his sleep and accidentally squash her. Perhaps it wasn’t worth the risk, especially since Veris probably didn’t want to see her right now. She’ll let him sleep it out, and pray he’s in a better mood tomorrow.

Seraos shrugged. "Is that the best you can come up with? Disappointing. I gave my word - you could not help me with the answers I needed, so you will have to deal with our laws the normal way, as if I was never involved. I'm far too busy to deal with chicanery."
Seraos nodded and gave a dismissive hand gesture towards the guards. "Put in the order to have her trial expedited" he ordered. "I will, at the very least, not have a child held without trial for long. Also, see to it that we find out what led to the girl's head wound - and if it occurred unnecessarily, dock the pay of the man responsible and have him reassigned until he's judged fit for prisoner duty once again." Though Seraos wanted to discourage such behavior in the future in the event of more significant head wounds, he still did not buy the amnesia story from the satyr - least of all because, though she didn't remember the relevant events, she still remembered things like what a prison was, or what an apology was, or how to play her instrument, or any number of things not directly related to the incident and its background. Her purported amnesia was conveniently specific - too convenient - and a head wound would be a nice excuse.

The satyr girl was terrified now. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life in a prison. Why was this man so cruel?
“It’s the truth! What else does it take for you to believe me!? Please!” she begged once more as she was dragged away. Should she make up a lie in order to please Seraos? No no, she couldn’t. If he found out it was a lie, things could be far worse if she was found out. She had to remember at least something of the life she had before arriving here, but she wasn’t going to get anywhere at this rate. Another awful prison she was being lead to, and all she could do was hope that the time alone would help her remember. The documents would be signed, and all the necessary procedures for the trial were being made so that her case could be taken to court in less than a week. Draikon was still almost half an hour away from his destination. He had to fly slow in order to prevent the plant from dying. It wasn’t like Seraos to execute children on the spot no matter their crimes, and if he had an ounce of brain, he wouldn’t kill such a magnificent creature for the sake of a crime that he was certain wasn’t on purpose.

General Lyon arrived home, giving the bad news to his daughter.
“I couldn’t help her. Not only did she tried entering the forbidden palace, she kicked a soldier in the face and was left in pretty bad shape. I doubt king Seraos will execute her, but he is considering imprisoning her for life.” he said, making Lydia sob for the poor child.
“It’s ridiculous! She would never hurt anyone! It’s a lie! I knew it! I knew this was a bad idea! Arriving here! Sergeant Farlo couldn’t make peace with the humans! Why did we even bother to think WE could? Humans are evil! My kind and so many others have always been on the run because of them. If they find out where we live, they’ll want to invade us! I just know it! I have to save her!” the siren boy said, almost storming off before being stopped by the general.
“Calm down child. Your friend won’t be harmed. Not on my watch! I even convinced Draikon to help us! He’s a very smart scientist who loves mythical creatures!” Lyon assured, sitting him on a chair.

Lydia was terrified now. Why him?
“That crazy old man with the five o’ clock shadow? Father, how could you? What if he wants to experiment on her? One of my friends went to his lab once when she was very sick, and he was doing some terrible things to some sprites he keeps.” Lydia said, not trusting the man.
“Lydia my darling, I know you think my decision is poor, and yes, I admit that the man can be... a bit cuckoo sometimes, but I genuinely believe he means well. It’s sad that he sometimes has to test his experiments on living beings like the sprites, but he has legal ownership of them. True that he is a little secretive, but everyone knows his obsession with all matter of creatures, especially mythical. He even suggested years ago to educate certain creatures like trolls and goblins so that they could be included into society and the oppression of them would stop. We all laughed at him back then... but, after finding out there was a troll living in Redwater, perhaps he wasn’t as far off as we thought. So you see, someone with his smarts and influence is out best bet for now.” Lyon assured his daughter, and while Lydia didn’t trust him, she did trust her father. The siren boy had no choice but to trust as well. If he tried rescuing his friend, no doubt he would be captured as well.

With the matter of the satyr girl out of his hands, as far as he was concerned, Seraos could move onto other issues. The Council was due to convene tonight, like they did at least biweekly, and more often as needed for certain issues. He would have an opportunity to listen to their conclusions as to the most pressing issues for their various jurisdictions (if one could call them that at this stage, with the role of each individual council member still not completely solidified.) They would have to go through security like everyone else, but an exemption would be something to be worked out later.
One of the researchers Seraos enlisted, meanwhile, was escorted in. "Greetings, Your Majesty," the researcher said with a well-practiced bow.
"Greetings. What brings you here?" Seraos asked.
"We have deduced that the flute is a magical device... but we are unable to further discern its nature," the researcher reported. "That seems to be in line with it being magic developed by a race we are unfamiliar with. We don't believe deconstruction of the device will help us in this matter, as we would need someone capable of activating the device in order for us to research the magic further."
"Very well," Seraos answered. "Thank you for your report. The courts will want your summary, so be sure to write it down."

That evening, Sere would receive a document from Aelinon - a subpoena for the Ardent Guardians, to provide their own expertise regarding satyrs in a trial involving one trying to pass the castle security and attacking the Royal Guard. Even though the Guardians would often willingly participate if requested, that wasn't always the case - regardless, a subpoena helped preserve a neutral image by "forcing" the Guardians to act, so Sere preferred them. He would make sure a representative was available for that day - likely Julian, such a thing being his area of expertise, though possibly someone acting on his behalf.

The sky was tinted with the orange glow that invited the evening. The stars were already starting to show up by the time Draikon arrived. The guards raised their weapons, but lowered them when they saw who it was.
“Good evening gentlemen. Working hard? I got another score for science here, and I promise you, the king will LOVE this one.” he said with a faint hint of narcissism, pretending he had no idea what was waiting in store. The guards only saw a measly plant with tomato-like fruits, but knowing Draikon, there was probably more to it than meets the eye.
“Good evening Mr. Draikon. Unfortunately, the palace is off limits right now. The king is very busy. You can come back tomorrow.” one of them said, but Draikon wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Come on soldiers! Work with me! Getting here takes a while! This will improve the people’s lives in a way you can’t possibly imagine. King Seraos wouldn’t like if such precious news was postponed. Come on my good man. Make an exception for old Draikon here.” the scientist said, with the guards not sure what to do. One of them decided to head to the palace and inform Seraos of his presence. Draikon wasn’t the most liked person among the soldiers of Aelinon, but his skills and services were greatly appreciated and respected by their monarch.

King Seraos wasn’t in the throne room anymore, so the guard went to look for him in his chambers. He was not there either. He searched for a little while, and found Seraos shortly after he was done talking to the informant.
“My liege! There you are. Mr. Draikon is here. Says he has... something big. His usual experiments I suppose. Told him to come back tomorrow, but he’s insisting. Should I let him in?” the guard asked, awaiting orders. Draikon waited patiently outside the palace, waiting for the remaining guard to say something about the satyr girl, but he remained silent. He would have to wait for the big news and act as if it’s the first time hearing them when it happens.

Seraos shrugged. "Let him in," he ordered. "Make sure you thoroughly search his person before letting him in, however, like you would any other visitors at this time - let him not get the idea that he's above anyone else in that regard." Draikon was a useful man, but he could be presumptuous at times - it was important to keep him in check while still facilitating his valuable contributions.

The guard did as he was told. He told his companion the orders and immediately began searching Draikon.
“Hey! HEY! What’s the deal? Don’t tell me his royal highness’ paranoia grew again?” Draikon asked, hating to have his personal space invaded like that.
“We’re sorry Mr. Draikon. New protocol. And please, we would appreciate if you don’t address to the king in such a matter.” the guard warned, not willing to tolerate Draikon’s sassiness in his presence. The scientist was clean, with not even a single dagger or magical artifact in him, and with a glare, he was escorted to the palace, where Seraos was waiting.

His clothes were a mess, but he didn’t bother making himself more presentable since it was the own king’s fault they were like that now.
“Ah, your highness, good evening.” Draikon said respectfully with a bow, pot and plant still firmly on his hand.
“My liege, I have made more scientific progress. I believe you’ll be even more happy with the new invention than the hexphage mix itself. Apologies for my... appearance. I would greatly appreciate if your guards didn’t treat me like dirty laundry the next time I’m here.” Draikon indicated, not wanting to keep a secret how displeased he was with the treatment. He wouldn’t have mind the search too much if the brutish guards had been a little more gentle, especially with someone like him.

Seraos' curiosity was piqued by this new plant that Draikon was presenting - how important was this breakthrough, that Draikon felt it was such an urgent matter?
"Pardon the treatment - but if you feel I'm unreasonable to have these measures in place, then you are either unaware of what I have to deal with, or don't think highly enough of me to see value in my continued living, and knowing a man like you, I would not believe the former," Seraos answered bluntly. "That said, I am curious as to what you've come up with this time... this wouldn't happen to have involved a visit from General Lyon earlier today, would it?" he asked suddenly.