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Falling Down

_ Part 1 _

In ten seconds he’d reached terminal velocity.

According to Craven’s measurements, he would’ve stepped off at 15,000 feet, where the cumulonimbus clouds were standing sentry around them like great pillars of snow. Arterius now, falling to the earth with nothing but the shirt on his back and two coppers in his pocket, was calculated to hit the ground in twenty seconds from now--thirty seconds total. Gods, he’d reached terminal velocity and was already a third of the way down.

Arterius tried sticking his arms out to catch the air, but he was rather inexperienced in falling to his doom and the motion just sent his body tumbling--whipping around head over tail like a leaf in a cyclone. The deafening wind made it so that screaming would be useless.

Hurry the fuck up, Craven, Arterius thought. Fifteen seconds now. Halfway. The endless multicolored flower fields spread out underneath him like a straight-stitched quilt. He was seeing more and more detail in every thread rapidly.

Above him, a white, feathered blur dove for him with the same ferocity a Kobold seizes a piece of raw gristle off the bone. Arterius should know; he was one, after all.

Seventeen seconds. The sun was blocked out by Craven’s body now, casting Arterius in a shadow invisible on the ground below.

Nineteen seconds. Arterius tried again to course-correct his leaf-whipping motion, sticking out his cerulean tail to replicate what cats do. Somehow--by the gods above or by some chance miracle--it actually worked. His body suddenly stabilized, and the wind caught him hard on the flat of his stomach. The drag increased, slowing him down so suddenly that the dive-bombing Craven couldn’t react in time. In the perspective of his travelling companion, the flailing Kobold had suddenly put on the brakes. Arterius slipped between the Gryphon’s paws, slammed against a feathered chest, and whipped around the neck until he was above his savior.

Not ideal, Arterius thought.

The mid-air collision had sent him careening wildly so that the world was again a blur and Craven had to course-correct--twisting, catching the air with his wings for a split-second, and aiming once again. For a fleeting moment Arterius caught that Craven was diving parallel with him.

Twenty-two seconds. Craven rotated again so that his underbelly faced the plummeting Kobold. Carefully, two paws began to stretch out for him.

Twenty-three seconds. One paw managed to nab Arterius’ arm from his erratic tumble and the sudden stop in centrifugal force about made him puke. The drag threatened to tear him from the grasp, but a second paw quickly seized his groin. One of the digits wrapped around his inner thigh, one against the opposite thigh, and another dangerously pressed against his crotch. The thumb wrapped around to grip his tail like it was a flapping wet noodle.

Twenty-four seconds. Arterius’ heart shot out of his asshole as the world suddenly lurched. Above him, Craven had outstretched his wings to catch the air and the sudden decrease in velocity threatened to knock the both of them out.

Twenty-six seconds. The paws pulled Arterius up until he was pressed hard against the underbelly feathers. To make Craven more streamlined, Arterius figured. The Gryphon had successfully brought their deadly downwards-trajectory into a friendly horizontal glide. Arterius had been saved.

The Kobold held his vomit in. Below, he caught a group of Jhunaloc dye-farmers pointing up at them in what he figured must’ve been a mix of curiosity, amazement, and concern. Arterius waved back dazedly, though he doubted they’d be able to make out the motion very well.

“HA HA!” Craven boomed. The Gryphon, ever the adrenaline-junkie, bellowed like a hyperactive songbird on a sugar high. He’d slowed down their flight to the point where they could talk above the wind and hung his head down low so that it was upside-down in Arterius’ view. “THAT WAS INCREDIBLE! DID YOU SEE THAT SAVE?”

“I certainly felt it.” The grip had loosened, and Arterius broke from the paws to climb around Craven’s body. It was a rather simple task, actually. He’d always been a good climber and feathers made a good handhold. “I was beginning to understand how to control my body.”

Craven now craned his head back so that it was looking over his back at Arterius. “Let’s get a drink after that, don’t you think? I could use a drink.”

“No. We’re practicing.” Arterius patted his body--checking to see if Craven’s paws had scratched him or if the two coins he’d left in there had fallen out (he had kept them there to see if they would or not. Thankfully, they were still inside. That was a meal, after all).

“Shouldn’t we take a breather for your sake at least?”

Arterius shook his head. “No. What was your time?”

Craven chuffed--sounding frustrated at the dismissal. “Twenty-six seconds… I think. I was rather distracted.”

Arterius glanced off Craven’s side to the kaleidoscopic farmland below. It stretched on for miles and miles in columns of different flowers. Purple lavender, golden daffodils, and every conceivable hue of tulips.

“Arterius?” Craven asked.

Arterius looked back up into the clouds he’d just hurtled through. “Fly up. Let’s do it again.”

---

Craven was practically foaming at the beak in excitement. Arterius could feel the veins hot with energy and taut like a tripwire line as he sat on Craven bareback and cross-legged. The panting was nigh-on hyperventilations, and the strong heart beat hammered like a blacksmith’s anvil: an electric badum badum badum badum badum.

“We’re done,” Arterius said. After eighteen practice runs and one-too-many close calls, he thought it best to stop for the day.

The beating anvil missed a beat. “WHAT?” The Gryphon had been flapping his wings and climbing up in a corkscrew--back up to the altitude they’d been starting their practice-saves at. “WE CAN MAKE TWENTY!”

“I recall you telling me we should take a breather.”

“That was before I started feeling so good!” The Gryphon, jazzed and not really thinking, shook side-to-side, ruffling the impure-white feathers in a ripple down the length of his slender body. The motion threatened to tip Arterius over the side and he was forced to take a clump of feathers in his hand to hold steady. “I can make thirty!" Craven continued. "No. Forty!"

“We’re done, Craven.” What the hell is he doing? Arterius thought. He couldn’t help but glance off the side and past the ginormous wings to the ground below. If he’d fallen at this height Craven surely wouldn’t have had the time to save him.

“Come on, let’s get to twenty!”

“Can you shut up?” Craven was really starting to get on his nerves. They were on the run from the law. These practice runs were to prepare for the worst, not to get off on an adrenaline-high. “You’re annoying me.”

Underneath him, Arterius could still hear the hyperactive anvil: badum badum badum badum badum. It wasn’t just the close calls he was worried about. If Craven’s body got too exhausted he may not have the strength to catch Arterius timely.

Craven chaffed bitterly in response, obviously frustrated. Fine. Let him be frustrated, Arterius thought. He’s not the one that’s risking his life.

The corkscrew continued on, but now circled downwards towards the irritatingly flat flower farms of Jhunal. Flat as a twink’s ass and flattering as a whore who needs to reach their quota. This county was a sizable chunk of the Dynasty, but a forgettable one. Stories raved about the plateau’s beauty and there was no denying it, but they’d been flying inwards for two days now and Arterius figured that once someone saw the first windmill and the first flower field, then they saw all of it. There were no mountains or even the odd boulder to break up the horizon. Only tiny ponds broke up the monotony, but even those were checkered orderly across the landscape like skin pores. If someone wanted to walk from one side to the other, all they’d have to do is pick a ditch between two of the flower columns and walk for a few weeks. Go north, and they’d eventually break into the wheat fields of Elysia. Go south, and they’d eventually reach the brackish bayous of Amalee. All beauty eventually rusts from acclimation.

The locals were apparently as bright, colorful, and dull as their homeland. ‘Happy and submissive,’ is what he’d heard. If that was the truth, Arterius had no idea. He and Craven had purposefully stayed well away from people (to both of their dismay--Arterius swore he was getting cabin fever with only Craven to talk to) in their flight to Jhunal’s belly. It was the perfect place for them to lay low--and the perfect place for their query to hide.

Bounty hunting. It was Craven’s idea and Arterius had begrudgingly went along with it. Why Craven had thought it was smart to take bounties from the same government they were trying to hide from, he had no idea. But gold was gold. And the two coppers in his pocket and the seven in Craven’s saddlebag wouldn’t feed them for very long. This’d set them up well with some extra money for equipment and niceties, but now they had to figure out exactly how they were supposed to take “Erahm ‘Bitterwort’ Jeskels” in dead or alive with nothing but their paws and fists.

She was an outlaw from Jumakot. Wanted for breaking into a lesser noble’s mansion and breaking his fingers one by one till he told her the whereabouts of his stashed gold. She seemed dangerous… but the pay was good.

Craven could always capture her easily, Arterius thought. Catch Jeskels out in the open and Craven can just swoop in, pick her up, and Jogol’s your uncle.

Around him, Arterius was only slightly aware that Craven’s wings were still vibrating in excitement. They were moving rather fast still, despite the fact all they were doing was scouting for a good resting spot. Arterius just rolled his eyes. It’ll take him an hour to calm down and then he’ll crash for the rest of the day.

It was best not to head into town just yet. Arterius wanted to go over everything he knew about Jhunal’s culture before they’d inadvertently shame the wrong person and get chased out with pitchforks and torches. After the last time he swore that it’d never happen again.

‘Knowledge is everything,’ he thought. It was one of dad’s sayings.

Arterius dug into the saddlebag tied atop Craven’s hips and took out his journal. It was tiny, battered, and smelled of leather oil. “How much will the letters bring us?” he said, tapping his quill (graciously made from one of Craven’s feathers) on the ‘Income and Expenses’ section in his journal.

Craven only breathed heavy in response and dipped down a bit too fast. Arterius had to grab a cluster of feathers again not to tip over. He was diving for a lonesome elm.

Trying to keep his heartbeat up, Arterius thought. He raised his voice to get over the wind. “Maybe we’ll get enough to buy a crossbow.”

Craven still did not respond. He only hurtled faster towards the elm.

“Hey!” Arterius shouted. “Are you lis-”

“SHUT UP.”

Arterius would’ve rolled his eyes or given some sort of retort, but the elm tree was getting closer rather quickly. Perhaps a little too quickly. “Hey, Craven? The tree.”

“I KNOW WHAT I’M DOING.”

The tree, once a dark-green dot, was now a many-limbed target he could start counting the branches of. Arterius tucked his journal into his legs and grabbed a hold with both hands.

Craven was silent.

He could start counting the leaves now.

Arterius smarted. “Craven!”

At the last moment Craven unfurled his wings and flicked his feathered-tail to the side, narrowly missing the elm but shooting underneath its canopy. Claws were digging into dirt, and Craven spun in a circle as the momentum carried him twenty feet before stopping. Arterius had merely a second to realize he was still alive before the kicked up cloud of dust caught up and consumed the both of them.

Craven was laughing below him, and Arterius could feel the Gryphon’s heart (successfully kept at an inexorable beat) thrumming through the veins as if it was its own kind of self-satisfied laughter. “THAT WAS A LANDING!”

Arterius hacked up one lung and half of the other as he tried to wave away the cloud of dust. Flecks of mud got stuck in his nostrils and the inside of his throat burned charcoal-hot. “Wha-” Arterius coughed, “-what did you-”

“I landed. What do you think?” Craven peered around his shoulder to glare, his nictitating membrane making him unperturbed by the debris cloud. “Or do you have another command, sir?”

Great. He’s in one of his moods. Arterius didn’t respond--as he was actively choking--and instead waved Craven away and moved to climb off of him. That was usually as simple as climbing across his feathers the same way he had done mid-flight, but Craven would for sure try to flick him off like an annoying insect as he sometimes did when he was feeling bitter.

And Craven did, of course. As Arterius clambered around the wing and onto the front right leg, Craven flexed his knee (elbow?) and sent the much smaller Kobold tumbling onto his ass in the reddish dirt.

“You can stand to be nicer to me, Arterius. Gryphons get hungry and you're starting to look more and more like a nice, juicy pair of frog legs.”

Arterius huffed and got to his feet. The dust was beginning to settle. “I’m not a frog.”

One of Craven’s front paws moved erratically as he gestured. Still--even with his anger--Craven was careful not to clip the Kobold with a rogue swipe. “Oh yeah? I couldn’t tell with all of the jumping you’ve been doing today.” Craven took a step back, but he was not staying still. He was hopping from one side to the other nonstop. What was he…

Arterius scoffed. Even now he was still trying to keep his adrenaline up. “By the gods--s_till_?”

“YEP. And I will continue to do so. I may do what I please, sir.” His hopping back and forth only got faster.

“Where did this come from? You were fine a few minutes ago.”

“OH. I WAS?” Craven held up a paw up to his chest in mock-suprise. “I HAD NO IDEA. ALLOW ME TO RE-ASSES MY EMOTIONS.”

Arterius rolled his eyes and waved a hand dismissively. “I’m not dealing with this.” He began walking away to find some peace and quiet. He could go over Jhunal’s culture by himself.

“GO AHEAD. SEE HOW YOU DO WITHOUT ME.”

Arterius stopped mid-step. He swiveled around on the fleshy pads of his claw. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Craven--still hopping--now had a self-satisfied grin at the hinge of his beak. It was bait, and Arterius had taken it hook-line-and-sinker. “‘Fly to Jhunal, Craven,’” he quoted, “‘Fly up, Craven.’ ‘Fly down, Craven.’ ‘Practice plucking me from free-fall, Craven.’ HOW ABOUT I DECIDE WHERE WE FLY, HUH? I’M THE ONE WITH THE WINGS.”

“You’d have no idea where to go. I’m the one keeping us a step ahead of the Stormwardens.” It was true. While Craven drank in the rookeries or flew in circles to beat his personal bests, Arterius went to shopkeepers and adventurers, gathering information and mapping out routes.

Craven chuffed and lowered his head to Arterius’ level. “I’m not a horse you can dig your spurs into. I was there with your people fighting right alongside them.”

“We’re doing the bounty hunting thing. That’s your idea.”

“Right. And you’ve been grumbling about it ever since.” Arterius started to raise his voice to object, but Craven cut him off. “YOU HAVE. My ears are excellent and you constantly whine to yourself.”

“This is life or death!” Arterius shouted. “We don’t have the privilege of being able to lounge about and drink in taverns.”

“Like you're a saint, Arterius. I’ve carried you on my back plenty of times after one too many drinks.”

Arterius stomped his foot down into the dirt. “We’re done.” He pointed a finger at Craven’s arrow-shaped head. “You fly when I say so. You jump when I say so. And you don’t complain when you do. All you do is follow orders like the good mount you are, got it?”

Craven’s beak slowly closed with a quiet click. His eyes narrowed.

badum badum badum badum badum

In the back of his mind Arterius knew that he’d be imprisoned within a week if he couldn’t stay ahead of the Stormwardens. Yet again, Craven would’ve stayed in one place, too busy fucking or drinking, and been caught if not for Arterius constantly pushing him. It was a neverending game of tug-of-war where one side winning meant both of their executions. Craven knew the game as well. At least, Arterius thought he did. If not consciously it must’ve been in the back of his mind.

badum badum badum badum badum

Arterius sighed and pinched the bridge between his eyes. What would dad think of you right now?

The Gryphon began to speak but Arterius put up a finger and silenced him. “That was wrong of me to say,” Arterius said.

Craven snorted. “You think?”

A tinge of annoyance bubbled up at the forefront of Arterius’ mind, but he forced himself to pop it before it could take hold. “I apologize. It’s best for the both of us if we get along.”

Strangely, Craven began to laugh.

The hell? Arterius thought. The Gryphon laugh was a high-pitched, repetitive choking like a massive goose falling down a staircase. He’d heard it many times, but now it had a tinge of… sadness… in it?

“You know…” Craven began, “the Triplet Mountains preached passivity and forgiveness: peace above all. The ancient ways would’ve loved for me to forgive you on the trust of word alone.” Another laugh cut through a forest of old-growth emotion. “But that belief got them burned… So I do not forgive you, Arterius. You’re a bastard.”

“And you’re an annoying prick.”

Craven’s feathery eyebrows raised, as if to say ‘See? You just proved my point.’

Arterius let his arms fall to his side, defeated and exhausted. “So that’s it then? We split ways?”

“Not quite.” Craven shook his head. “I’ve saved your life eighteen times today. So it doesn’t mean much to me to do it a nineteenth.” He raised a paw (still bouncing on the other three) as if he was lecturing a student. “You’ll die pretty quick because someone will eventually put two and two together of what you did and your tiny draconic legs won’t be able to carry you fast enough to get away. So for the time being you’ll still be riding on my back. But when I find a safe place to dump you or someone to carry you away, then I’m flying elsewhere--to somewhere I’ll be more appreciated--with nothing but the wind by my side.”

This’ll never last, Arterius thought. He’s acting tough now, but he’ll go back on his word by the end of the day. He didn’t let his thoughts show, however. Arterius made himself look painfully flat-faced and nodded curtly. “Sounds fair to me.”

“There,” Craven said, smiling to himself and still hopping from side to side, “that was simple.”

Arterius didn’t respond. He wasn’t looking forward to dealing with Craven’s smugness for the rest of the day. Sighing, he pulled out his journal. “Yeah… simple. Anyway, do you know what’s considered rude to the Jhunaloc?”

A massive wing flashed out and Arterius went flying for the nineteenth time that day. With a slam, he landed in the nearest column of white-colored tulips. They did not cushion the fall in the slightest.

Thud.

Thud.

Both of Craven’s forelegs planted firmly beside Arterius’ body as he got his bearings back. The Gryphon was looming over him, a look about him that reminded Arterius of a Dragon’s wroth.

“You think I’m not being serious?” Craven hissed--hot, fishy breath filling Arterius’ nostrils like syrup. “I’m sick of your shit, Arterius.”

Instinct told him to cower and try to get away, but Arterius stubbornly resisted. You promised that you’d never cower again. Instead, he put his palms to the crushed tulips underneath him and lifted his torso up to meet the comparatively massive olive eyes. “Maybe you don’t want to do the menial shit, but that’s what keeps us alive. Remember our misadventure in Kalvesta?”

“Don’t bring up Kalvesta.”

Arterius couldn’t help but smirk. “I thought you didn’t like commands.”

“I don’t like assholes. And that’s what you are.”

Out of all of their time together, Craven had never gone this far. They’ve bickered and annoyed each other plenty of times, sure, but they’d never gotten physical like this. This… standoff they were in--Craven looming over and Arterius stubbornly sitting up against him--had never happened before, either. Maybe… maybe something was cracking.

Before Arterius could respond, he started to hear an intermittent, cushioned thumping.

Oh gods, Arterius thought, don’t let it be- But it was. He glanced down, getting a perfect view down Craven’s snow-white underbelly and to the excitement between the hindlegs; at full length and tapping the stomach.

Arterius looked back up and met Craven’s eyes. “...You’re hard.”

It wasn’t anything Arterius hadn’t seen before. Plenty of times, actually, and much closer than this. So he knew that it wasn’t the fact that Craven was throwing his weight around that had gotten him excited (well, maybe it was. Kinks wasn’t something they’d dished out fully). No, it was--as always--the adrenaline.

The anger in Craven’s face dissipated slightly and a new sheepish embarrassment came apparent as he pulled his head back. “With the adrenaline, yes. That’s how it goes. You know this.”

Arterius pinched the bridge between his eyes. “Good riddance.” That’s where all the blood goes. Not to his brain, but to his cock.

The feathered brows of Craven suddenly unfurrowed and turned… mischievous. “You know what?” Craven said. “If you want to redeem yourself from your bullshit, then you can start underneath me. Let’s keep this heart beating fast, baby.”

Arterius just sighed and let his head slowly sink back until his horns stabbed the dirt like spears. Why am I with this guy again?

That thought quickly brought bad memories: a burning sky, the sound of echoing death, melting stone, heartbreak, desolation. He pushed them away with effort. Now was not the time to be reminded of such things.

His only chance at survival was with Craven. Maybe Arterius could stand to be a bit kinder, though Craven could also stand to use his head more. Don’t think that, Arterius thought. Just think about what you can do now.

On the one hand, Arterius wasn’t in the mood in the slightest. On the other, Craven was, and giving him a helping hand would certainly help Arterius get back into his good graces. With all the energy built up during the rescue-runs, it probably wouldn’t take long, either.

After only a few moments, Arterius had made up his mind. “Alright, fine.”

Craven cooed and bounced up and down from a new kind of excitement. The anger had dissipated entirely, it seemed.

No, Arterius thought as he got himself to his feet. He’s channeling it into the anticipated release.

“Can you get on your back?” Arterius said. “That’s easier for me.”

After a moment Craven shook his head. “Nope. This is for me, and I want to do it standing.” He swayed his hips side to side, teasingly. “I like the feeling of you under me.”

Arterius sighed. My arms are going to be killing me. “Fine. We’ll do it while standing.”

“And with tongue?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

It was an odd quirk of luck that Arterius could only stand at full height at the back of Craven, where the ribs tapered into the groin. At the front, where the ribs puffed out to hold the lungs and the well-used heart, he had to crouch down to pass under. It seemed--almost--that it was meant to be for Arterius to regularly play with Craven’s jibbly-bits as they comfortably stood. Arterius didn’t subscribe to such thinking. The world was unfair chaos, nothing more.

From head to tail Craven was a washed white of different shades. It was ‘whitest’ under the neck and down the underbelly and got a bit dirtier as it went up towards the head and spine. The feathers around his paws from the ankle down was utter black, however (reminiscent of socks). And at the tips of Craven--the spine, the tips of his wings, the endcaps of his tail feathers, and the peaks of the tallest feathers on his head--the white was just barely dyed a summer gold. The color had faded with time as they couldn’t afford the pricey dye much, but what little was left seemed to be drawn out by the summer’s radiance.

Craven's body was lithe like a cat. Any fat he gets is annihilated immediately, Arterius thought, smirking. The Gryphon was extremely streamlined, double Arterius’ own height (of which was just a few inches over three feet) and long. The tail feathers added a considerable length past even the jaguar body.

Not actually a feline body, however; that was a common misconception. Before Gryphons were made to be scouts and mail carriers--when they were mostly just folktales beyond the border villages of Giaruocuo--people had thought their forms were the combination of cat and bird. Perhaps it was, in some strange way. The erection certainly wasn’t avian, after all. But now--walking down Craven’s length--Arterius couldn’t help but think of him primarily as some kind of bird. There was no fur, only feathers. The tail feathers spread out like a bird’s, though they were considerably thinner than what would be typical. And the face, of course, was hawkish. It was long, streamlined, and the black beak was sharply curved for cutting into meat like the perfect bird of prey. Yet two delicately-fluffy, pointed ears came out from the back of the skull. That was rather un-avian-like. Additionally, instead of talons there were thumbed, canine-esque paws. Strange. Arterius couldn’t help but think such a species seemed out of place in the world.

He’s rather beautiful, Arterius thought. Then he took the thought around back to bash it with clubs and bury it under six feet of dirt.

As for Arterius’ appearance? He was a Kobold. Scales blue (like ice). Horns and claws silvery. Eyes fool’s gold. Long tail. Short horns. And wearing a tattered vest with basic slacks cut-off at the knees. He was nothing much to note, really.

“Permission to approach, sir?” Arterius spat, standing cross-armed behind the Gryphon’s behind.

“Huh?” Craven glanced over his shoulder, confused. “I thought I told you to.”

“I just want to make sure I’m not giving any commands, sir.”

“Oh fuck you.”

Arterius smugly stepped forward, not bothering to even attempt to hide his smirk. But before he could begin his work Craven suddenly stepped back, slamming his balls against Arterius’ snout. It worked to knock Arterius onto his ass, but the testicals were bravely sacrificed in the process.

Arterius landed on his tail a bit wrong, and a jolt of discomfort shot through his body like a lightning bolt. Thankfully it didn’t last long. He couldn’t say the same from Craven, however. As Arterius was able to grumble and climb to his feet, Craven was still writhing on the ground from his self-sustained injury.

“Happy?” Arterius said, rubbing his snout.

Craven gave a pained squawk. “................very.”

Despite the malice and contempt between the two of them, Arterius wasn’t about to stoop so low to break the universal code by kicking Craven as he was down. He would wait until Craven was back up on all four paws.

The aforementioned balls were also rather un-avian. It was more canine than anything: two large, fluffy orbs that sagged low in the summer heat. They were paper-white as well, and tapered into a wolf-esque sheath. At Arterius’ height, the full package was perfectly eye-level. Thus, they were easy to take hostage.

Arterius felt Craven’s thighs suddenly tense as one of the orbs was taken in a firm hand. He even gave a whimper that was all-too satisfying.

“Lift your ass, Craven,” Arterius said.

“I told you not to command-” Craven began, but was silenced as Arterius squeezed. I’d think I was doing something wrong, Arterius thought, if his dick wasn’t throbbing twice as hard now.

“Tippy-toes, come on. Lift it.”

After some more whining and bemoaning, Craven obeyed. The behind raised so that Arterius could now walk underneath the low-hanging fruit while only grazing his horns.

“Good boy,” Arterius said, loosening his grip. He was starting to feel his own arousal stir deep in his slit at the display. Submissiveness like this always got his rocks off. That, and the fact that the air was overpoweringly thick with Craven’s need.

The shaft itself was pinkish with the length and thickness of Arterius’ own arm. It was canine too, he supposed--with the bulge of flesh in the center, the tapered end, and the characteristic knot. Yet the shaft ended in a centrally-tapered tip as he’d imagine from an avian, rather than the ventrally-tipped, snub-nosed protrusion one would get from a canine. That’s the most sensitive part, Arterius thought, calling back to the many other times he’d gotten Craven off. Best to get this done quick.

He waited for another cushioned thwack before grabbing the tip, making sure to squeeze his digits towards the end.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!” Craven screamed. “GODS ALMIGHTY! BY THE MOUNTAINS’ WISDOM! AAAAAAAAA-”

The massive Gryphon bucked forward, surging a burst of pre out onto the ground like a jet stream. The thrust slammed the underbelly against Arterius’ snout and nearly knocked him down. He was just barely able to stay on his feet thanks to him being able to use the dick as a handlebar. It took a moment to understand that it actually hadn’t been an orgasm, and just an overly-extreme shot of pre.

Arterius quickly glanced around them. There was no understating how utterly flat the plateau of Jhunal was. A person a hundred miles away with a good enough spyglass would be able to see them if they really wanted to. Yet again, the spot that Craven had chosen was far away from any farmstead, windmill, or other manmade structures. Arterius just hoped the scream hadn’t carried.

“How sensitive are you right now, Craven???” Arterius shouted, taking a step back. “All I did was touch the damn thing.”

Craven purred and bucked against the open air, obviously needy for the full release. “I’ve been…” Craven began saying between erotic pants, “saving your life… for hours… and hours… what would you expect?”

Adrenaline junkie, Arterius thought. He must’ve been looking forward to this for a while.

“You haven’t been saving my life,” Arterius grumbled. “We’ve been practicing.”

There was another dribble of pre as the massive cock slammed hard against the stomach. “I beg… to differ… I’ve-”

Arterius shut him up before he could make a good point by grabbing the cock with both hands. It worked splendidly: deteriorating Craven into a blabbering, needy mess in the blink of an eye.

The pre would work as a good lubricant, but Arterius wasn’t in the mood to do much clean-up. So he slowly ran his fingers down the length of the shaft up till the knot, then back to the tip, with nothing but sweat as lube. It drove Craven mad regardless. His head was firmly laying against the ground, panting, and his haunches were raised even higher in the air as if he was presenting himself to an invisible onlooker.

The image and the loud moans did tantalize Arterius a bit, and his own excitement finally spread his slit apart enough to poke out. Arterius was still too angry and preoccupied to truly enjoy himself, but at least he could appreciate Craven’s need.

Arterius suddenly smiled wickedly as an idea came to mind.

As he got down to the knot for the second time, Arterius paused.

“Beg for me.”

The sudden stop in pleasure obviously frustrated Craven further, and Arterius could feel the Gryphon’s muscles tense in anger and in need. “What?”

“I told you to beg for me.”

Craven snorted but did not move from his spot. Arterius’ hands on his shaft was still too tantalizing to move from, it seemed. “I’m not… doing that.” He was still panting.

Keep pushing, Arterius thought. He took his hands off, letting only the air touch the quivering shaft. “I want you to beg for me to finish you off.”

“GODDAMN IT, ARTERIUS!” Craven roared so loud it hurt the Kobold’s eardrums. “EITHER KEEP GOING OR I’LL FINISH IT MYSELF.”

You pushed too far, Arterius thought, think of the good will you’re trying to get.

“...Fine.” Arterius stepped back and took the shaft back under his grip. Craven cooed in response, the pleasure taking control once again.

A bit roughly, Craven began bucking into Arterius’ grip. It wasn’t enough to knock him down, but since he wasn’t using a lubricant the movement made his whole body sway back and forth alongside Craven’s hips. Still, he grumbled and continued to rub up and down the shaft while not bothering to titillate the sensitive tip.

“Good boy,” Craven purred, not hiding the contempt in his tone.

Prick, Arterius thought, squeezing his fingers a bit harder. Though, you did the same thing. So you can’t really complain much, can you?

The bucking was getting quicker, and at the corner of Arterius’ eye he could see Craven’s front paws begin to claw at the earth. His forehead was pressed hard into the ground, eyes closed--completely lost in the euphoria. He’s getting close.

Knowing Craven wasn’t going to warn him today, Arterius spread his arms apart to end this show a bit faster. With his left hand he reached around the knot and inside the sheathe, squeezing the inner flesh inside. With his right hand he reached to the tip and milked it towards its very end.

The motion had the desired effect.

He’s going to try and knock me down, Arterius quickly thought. And he was right. As Craven roared his knees suddenly bent so that he was near-touching the ground. Arterius barely jumped out of the way in time--narrowly avoiding being pinned and having Craven bathe him in cum. Not again, prick.

Whatever other nefarious plans Craven may have had in store was lost in the pumping jets. The Gryphon moaned, whimpered, and roared in time with his each pump (which seemed to coincide with the rapid heartbeats). The powerful legs shuddered and threatened to collapse, and Arterius noticed the entire area around them had been cast into shade as Craven’s wings had spread in anticipation.

“Mhmmmhgmgmm…ahghgh…” Craven moaned, bucking his hips to continue the free-hand finish. Arterius just stood to the side now, bewitched.

I should be keeping time, Arterius thought, a bit too late. The longer Craven’s adrenaline kept up, the longer he seemed to be able to ‘expel’ it from his system. This may be a personal record.

The dirt and crushed tulips were now coated in a thick layer of glaze in a thick, rapidly spreading puddle. The throbbing hadn’t stopped, and the thick ropes had shot out at the apex of each, reaching high enough to paint the underbelly’s feathers and to make lines across Craven's black beak--not even aware of the sticky cream as he moaned into the dirt. It was… quite the display.

Arterius ignored his own growing erection and looked up at the sun, trying to gauge what time it was. Around five o’clock, maybe?

When Craven was finally finished, he fell to his side, groaned, and rolled on his back away from Arterius. The Gryphon was spread-eagle (heh), dick still throbbing in the air, as he attempted to catch his breath.

Heart is still beating fast, Arterius thought. He got what he wanted.

Arterius rounded the puddle of cum with the intention to gloat. Pulling out his journal, he prepared himself to say: _‘Now with that out of the way, do you know what’s considered rude to the Jhunaloc?’ _ but he stopped himself. Just… didn’t seem right. Instead, he leaned against the crooked elm and crossed his arms. “You alright?”

Craven couldn’t respond with the thick, deep breaths, but he was able to woozily put a paw up in a thumbs-up. It only lasted a second. A moment later the paw collapsed back to the chest, limp, as Craven focused on catching his breath.

“I’m not helping clean you up,” Arterius said, glancing at the shaft slowly slipping back into its sheathe. “You asked for it, so you deal with the consequences.”

“...Fuh…” Craven panted. “...Fine…”

Arterius rolled his eyes and flipped over to the ‘Income and Expenses’ section, using the sunbeams breaking through the dark leaves of elm as light. May as well go over it again while I have the time. The spreadsheets did wonders in getting his own arousal buried back inside him.

“Thank you,” Craven said after two minutes of heavy breathing. “I needed that.”

The token of appreciation washed off Arterius’ scales like armor. Just the afterglow making him mushy. “That was apparent,” Arterius said, quietly closing his journal and retying the twine that kept it securely shut. “But you’re welcome.”

“I can… go again. Just give me a few more minutes.”

“You’re tapped out, buddy. I won’t lay another finger on your dick for the rest of the day.”

Amazingly, a smile broke through at the hinge of Craven’s beak. “So I’ll just wait… You’ll touch me again at the witching hour.”

Arterius rolled his eyes. “And I’ll cast a spell on you that’ll turn you into a frog. After that I’ll be the one feasting on the legs.”

Craven laughed breathily. Perhaps all the anger was burnt out in the release, Arterius thought. It certainly seemed like he was in a better mood. Arterius was as well, he realized. Maybe the arousal had removed some of his anger despite not being personally satisfied.

When Craven’s eyelids fluttered open to reveal the olive irises underneath, Arterius brought his attention to the puddle of sticky loam his dick had graciously spread. “You know the Jhunaloc believe the planet is alive. Maybe finishing onto its tulips is a sign of horrible disrespect and you’ll be turned into a rotisserie chicken.”

The last part of what Arterius said didn’t seem to register. “Heh,” Craven laughed, “then it seems I’ve impregnated the planet.”

“Gods above, I hope not.”

The Gryphon thought for a short moment before sighing. “Gods… I hope not as well.”

Arterius peered up at the sky then scanned the horizon. He began counting the buildings. Windmill. Windmill. Homestead. Windmill. Homestead. Two windmills. Shed. Windmill. -Ah. There it is.

To his eyes it was just a group of blurs and a tiny bulge in the horizon, but with his rough knowledge of the area (as well as a quick consultation of the map) he was confident that the dots on the horizon was what the Jhunaloc had for ‘urban civilization.’ Mulberry Squall, he believed the town’s name to be. It was where Erahm Jeskels’ trail had led them to.

Now just to figure out how to actually hunt the bounty, Arterius thought.

He consulted his journal one more time before tying it, tucking it away, and walking up to the mostly-recovered Craven. Only the tip was stubbornly protruding from the sheathe now. Otherwise, the Gryphon seemed lost in his afterglow: wings spread out like massive blankets on either side of him, feathers calm against his skin, and tongue lulling out of the beak. He seemed… peaceful.

Arterius kicked him.

The Gryphon jolted. “WHAT?”

“We got to be getting into town,” Arterius tilted his head over his shoulder. “I spotted a pond that way during your ‘landing.’ Go wash yourself off.”

Craven grumbled but rolled over onto his stomach. “I can go a second-”

“No.”

“...Fine.” Craven shook his whole body like a wet dog, spraying a few bits of rogue semen across the little clearing around the elm. A drop got on Arterius’ tongue and it tasted familiarly bitter.

“Go. Now,” Arterius commanded after quickly swallowing. “First impressions mean a lot. Let’s make this one at least decent.”

“I’ll do it,” Craven grumbled, “but only because I don’t want to be sticky.”

“And I don’t want your sex to be the first thing people smell of us. Get.”

Arterius caught a quick glare down the Gryphon’s beak, but the next moment he was dashing away to clean himself up.

Damn it, Arterius thought, he’s keeping his tailfeathers down to block my view.

Craven dipped out of sight as he splashed into the pond a ways away. From Arterius' perspective, it seemed almost like he had suddenly fallen into a pit.

If he actually fell into a pit, what would I do? Arterius found himself thinking. I couldn’t lift him out, and if he had been hurt the Alchemist’s Guild would be too expensive to hire. On his own, any chance encounter with a Stormwarden could result in a capture for Arterius with little chance to escape.

I’d be done for, Arterius thought.

He chewed on that nugget of truth for a few minutes before deciding that he should check on Craven--make sure that the ponds weren’t full of some flesh-eating parasite or something.

Reeds and cattails had sprung up around the tiny pond like a fence, and--pushing through them--Arterius found Craven (thankfully) still alive and being himself. The Gryphon was running around the rim of the circular pond, trying his best to make a whirlpool in the clear-blue water. He was… actually succeeding in that endeavor. Rather well, actually.

Still trying to keep his adrenaline up, Arterius thought. He’s going to crash hard tonight.

“THE GROUND IS HARD UNDERNEATH,” Craven bellowed. “I’VE NEVER SEEN A POND WITH HARD GROUND UNDERNEATH.” He continued running, and running, and running, and running. Arterius rolled his eyes, figuring the reason why the concept of a hard pond bed was so appealing was because it meant that Craven could run in circles like this in the water with decent traction.

It was annoying that Craven was acting like a child despite being Arterius’ senior (by a year), yet Arterius couldn’t help but feel a bit endeared. Maybe moments like these were why he didn’t hate Craven all of the time.

Finding a spot out of the splash zone, Arterius sat and pulled out his journal. Fine, he thought, let Craven have his fun. He flipped to the information he’d gathered on Jhunal and was disappointed to find that it was still only a page’s worth of information. I’ll be here to keep us on the straight and narrow, doing the boring stuff. Keeping us alive.

Sighing, Arterius began to go through everything he knew.

---

_ Part 2 _

Leaning around Craven’s neck to get a look, the town of Mulberry Squall steadily came into view. They could’ve landed at the rookery and delivered the letters without trouble, but instead Arterius wanted to come into town on Craven’s paws and with the setting sun on their back. Let Jeskels hear of our arrival, he thought, she’ll know that we mean business.

From the air, Mulberry Squall looked like a hundred polka dots gathered around a town circle. From the ground, it looked like a hundred eggs were coming together to commune.

That was right. Eggs. The buildings looked like eggs. That was the only way Arterius could think of them. The flatter side of the egg was built onto the ground with mud bricks, while the ceiling came to a tapered end with eight bent, red timber pillars. The walls down from the pointed ceiling to the brick base were thatch--woven around the pillars like a straw basket. The only thing about them that was non-egg shaped was the structural support that surrounded them. Well, at least that’s what Arterius figured the framework was. Around every egg--where the mud bricks met the thatch walls--there was a ten-foot, vermillion log bracing against the exterior and the ground. It looked like scaffolding, almost, though they were as aged as the rest of the homes.

Arterius scratched the side of his muzzle as he pondered the strange architecture. He’d never seen buildings like before. Neither had he seen wood that was so red. The curiosity made his tail sway back and forth like a happy mutt.

From Craven’s saddlebags he’d pulled out his straw hat to keep the sun out of his eyes. It was a special thing, as it was the only piece of clothing tailor-made for him left. His vest was bought second-hand, his shirt stolen from a clothesline (probably a child’s, since it fit him), and the slacks were fished up from a puddle. A lovely woman by the name of Jasmine had woven the hat for him after he’d repaired a leak in her roof. He’d done it in the hopes of being paid, but a straw hat measured to his size was more than enough for him. It even had two holes for his horns, and the sides flared up slightly to give room for his ears. Whenever Craven was about to take flight Arterius always ensured it was safely stowed away.

Jasmine--lovely woman that she was--had also offered an ‘additional’ payment to him. He had to break it to her that women just weren't in his purview. Craven would’ve loved to step in for his place, but he’d missed the opportunity as he was off trying to map the local area as fast as Gryphonly-possible.

“Where do you think the color comes from?” Arterius asked, looking at the timber.

“Mmmmfmf… huh?” Craven murmured barely at an audible level and his body swayed back and forth like a drunken cow.

Arterius flicked the back of Craven’s head. “I’m asking about the buildings. Have you seen a red forest while flying around here? They must import it.” The elm tree they’d rested underneath was a misnomer in the greater Jhunal county. Usually, farmland would have windbreaks protecting the fields. Jhunal, however, had none of that. Just flowered prairie as far as the eye could see.

“Mmmm? Oh… no. No I haven’t.” A massive yawn accented the exhausted mumbling with a CLICK as the beak snapped back together.

Uh oh, Arterius thought, he’s crashing.

“Stay with me now.” Arterius scooted up the neck and attempted to pry the eyelids open. It only worked in annoying Craven.

“Hey…” The massive Gryphon shook his head and Arterius had to cling on to dear life so as to not fall off, “...stop that…”

Sensing that it was a lost cause, Arterius turned back and crawled down the long body to the saddlebags. Usually water helped during one of Craven’s crashes but this was going to be a big one. A sip wouldn’t stop it, but maybe it could get them to the rookery.

Arterius cursed as he pulled the leather bladder out of the saddlebag. Empty. He would’ve filled it up at the pond if not for his fear of disease in the stagnant water.

Below him, Craven stumbled and nearly sent Arterius flying… again.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Arterius grumbled. “Stop. Stop moving.”

Craven halted in place, right in the middle of the road. “Huh?”

Bladder slung over his shoulder, Arterius quickly scaled down Craven’s side and hopped down to the dense dirt of the pathway. “Just… just stay here, Craven.” His annoyance was rich on his tongue. “I’ll get you some water and hopefully that’ll help with your crash.”

“I can keep going,” Craven slurred.

“Just stay here, you prick,” Arterius said, a bit too loud. “I’ll be back.”

Craven chuffed. “I flew us here…” He wobbled back and forth before setting down onto his stomach. “...So I deserve a little rest.” His head hit the dirt like a meteor.

He’ll be asleep in five seconds.

A minute down the road he came across a Jhunaloc: an evoked hare girl who looked down at him with bright, curious eyes. Her fur was a brown so dark it seemed almost black. She wore a cotton dress that dragged on the ground--dyed in bright stripes of red, blue, and gold--and an apron speckeled with reddish dirt. Her massive ears were loosely wrapped in a red sash that added even more vibrance to the garb. She watched him approach on the tips of her paws, peering over a vermillion fence. Arterius stifled a bitter grumble to the fact that this girl was taller than him despite obviously being a child (maybe thirteen?).

“Er, hello miss,” Arterius said, tipping his hat up to her. “Name’s Arterius. What’s… er… what’s yours?” He moved with some caution and made sure to stay a few extra paces away than normal. There weren’t many of his species in Jhunal, so best to play it safe.

Though she took the form of a hare, her species was actually Changeling. They were all of the human-esque, anthropomorphic peoples across Solaron who took forms inspired off of feral beasts. It wasn’t a conscious evocation. Whenever Changelings stayed in a certain area for a long, long time (a few centuries), they eventually began to evoke the appearances of some of the local wildlife at birth. Jhunal must have a lot of feral hares, Arterius thought, provided the rest of them are evoked the same way.

The girl smiled down at him with buck teeth and said something in a language he didn’t understand.

“Er…” Did they speak a different language here? Shit. That was not a part of the plan. “Sorry miss, I’m afraid I don’t understand.” He was speaking the Dynastic Tongue (the official language of the Dynasty), so theoretically he shouldn’t have had problems communicating. Many places maintained their original languages, though.

The buck-toothed smile broadened and she jumped onto the bottom fence slat, resting her arms on the top of the fence. “Just messin’ with you, friend. I understand you fine.”

“Oh…” She didn’t seem afraid of his presence, so that was a good sign. “Are your parents home?”

“Died tragically in a fire.”

“I see… Sorry for your loss?” Arterius glanced back towards Craven. How the hell do you talk to children again? “Sorry, er, I’m new to town. Could you point me to a well that I could fill up?” He hefted the bladder on his shoulder before quickly adding, “If that’s respectful to do, of course.”

The girl laughed. “A well? What are you, insane?”

Arterius blinked. “How would that make me insane? I just… Is there a place where I can get water?”

“As well as it isn’t a well.”

He snapped. “How about you just tell-” Arterius stopped himself mid-sentence. No, Arterius. Don’t yell at the child. He took a deep breath. “May you please show me the nearest water receptacle? …Whatever that may be?”

The girl’s smile shifted into a proud smirk. “Sure will, angry man.” She hopped back into the grass and waved for him to follow. Arterius' ear flicked in derision at the new moniker. “Right over here. You can use one of our collectors.”

You just got baited by a child, Arterius thought, following her. What does that say about your people skills?

The nearest egg seemed to be her home, and as Arterius approached he could see that there was a water barrel connected to an overhead gutter system between each of the pillars. The rounded roof must direct all the rain down, he thought. The egg was insanely symmetrical radially (octagonally, to be precise), and the only break in the pattern he could see was that the front door replaced a barrel on a single curved section of wall. Otherwise, the other seven walls were all split down the middle with a central drain, and for every two walls there were two narrow, shuttered windows.

“There's also the storage in town from the water the windmills suck up," the girl explained. "It’s the same as sticking a tap into a tree and getting the sap.” The hare girl grinned evily. “Or like stabbing a knife into someone’s heart and sucking out the blood.”

“I see…” Arterius rolled his eyes. This girl was trying very hard to mess with him.

A feminine (adult) voice called out from the inside of the egg in the same language as before. The girl called back, glancing at Arterius for a moment.

Died in a fire, my ass. That obviously had to be her mother.

He stepped over one of the beams that braced against the wall and padded over to the barrel. Unfastening the bladder’s lid, it was as simple as lowering it inside and letting it fill itself up.

Arterius, feeling eyes on the back of his head, glanced back towards the girl. She was standing a few feet away watching him with curious, nigh-nefarious eyes. He laughed nervously. “So… could you tell me why you have these braces against your homes?” Looking at it closer now, the logs weren’t actually braced directly against the egg’s exterior. Instead, there were about five elliptical, wooden bars overlaid on top of one another and connected to the egg vertically by brackets. Leaf springs, he thought. It was the same suspension system used for wagons.

She seemed confused for a moment and he had to point to the angled logs to make her understand. To her, it must be something that she never had to think much about. “Oh. That’s for stability. To make sure the nerahms don’t roll away.” Looking at the eggs more closely now, Arterius could see that they didn’t have a foundation under them. They were just built to rest on the ground like dollhouses.

Nerahms, he thought, that’s what the eggs are called. “...Do they roll away often?”

She shrugged. “If you don’t stabilize them they do. The wind gets strong enough to carry babies away. I saw it happen one time.”

“You did not see that happen,” Arterius said.

“Did too.”

“You didn’t.”

“Yes I did.”

“You didn’t.”

She crossed her arms. “Yes. I did.”

“You-” he stopped himself again. This is a child. Don’t get angry with the child. You’re an adult, act like it. He took another deep breath. “...You didn’t.”

“Yes I did.”

“Good riddance,” he said, pinching the bridge between his eyes. “I need a drink.”

He hefted the bladder out of the barrel and fastened it. Most of the water was going to go to Craven, and since the Gryphon needed a hell of a lot more water than Arterius did, the bladder was laden with an enormous weight. Craven could carry it no issue. For Arterius, however; it felt like slinging a body over his shoulder.

Before departing Arterius looked up at the gutter system. While filling up the bladder and talking with the girl, he couldn’t help but notice the occasional dripping from up above him. It seemed that the glue holding the gutter (a hollowed-out branch by the looks of things) to the wall was imperfect, and a cache of water had collected in a carved depression and was now slowly dripping water.

“I could fix that for you, if you’d like,” Arterius said, pointing up to the leak. “I’m good at that sort of thing.”

The girl had procured a tomato and was eating it raw. “My mah’d like that. Sure.”

Arterius decided that he wasn’t going to try to decipher the tomato’s sudden appearance. “All I would need is some oakum and putty, if you have it.”

The girl took another bite. “Let me go check.”

She entered the home, spoke to her mother a bit in that foreign language (it had odd inflections that switched between highs and lows and had a lot of ‘ah’ sounds), and came out with a basket. “She said yes.” In the basket was a spool of coarse oakum and a bowl of some clay putty. “Do you need a ladder?”

Arterius took the basket graciously. “No. I’m alright.” He tested the strength of the thatch and found it sturdy enough for his weight. There’s one good thing about being small. “Er, would it be alright if I climbed this?”

She nodded. “You just have to pray to Demon Lord Beghazul.”

Arterius rolled his eyes. “Alright, kid.” She wasn’t going to get him this time. Though… Under his breath he made a quick prayer as he started to climb, just in case. Arterius wasn’t above praying to a demon so that he could make a good first impression. He didn’t have that good of a relationship with the gods anyway.

Ten minutes later the leak was fixed. All he had to do was drain the accumulation of water, dry off the area around the crack, and hammer in the oakum with a tapered rock. Once the oakum was in, he coated the top and bottom of it with the putty.

The girl had gotten bored of watching him and ran off. Probably to mess with someone else, he thought.

Her mother was waiting for him as he hopped down from the egg--no, the nerahm. She was a foot taller than her daughter and wore the same kind of clothes, but had cream-colored fur brindled with a chestnut brown. In her hands was a cup of something tantalizingly sweet-smelling.

“Thank you, sir,” she said. “My husband told me he was going to do that weeks ago.”

Arterius took the cup and peered in. The juice--whatever it was--was a deep purple. It reminded him of a richer grap juice. “Well, you know what they say about husbands…” Arterius trailed off. What do they say about husbands? he thought. Why did I say that?

“...Yes?”

“They’re, er, very busy people.”

She laughed. “Yes, I suppose they are.”

To get away from the awkward conversation, Arterius quickly took a sip of the juice. It was overpoweringly sweet but also a bit sour; as if a songbird had exploded on his tongue. Craven would love this, he thought. To Arterius, it was okay. He wasn’t partial to things that were too sweet. He’d never say that to the mother, though. “Mmm, what is this?” He parted from the cup with his lips stained purple.

“Blood.”

Arterius blinked. “Say that again?”

The mother laughed and folded her arms across her chest. “It’s mulberry juice, sir. It’s one of our main exports here. That, and the dye of course. It’s quite popular with the nobility.”

“Ah. The ‘Mulberry’ part of ‘Mulberry Squall.’” There’d been some low, scraggly bushes grown in lines on the way into town. Those must’ve been some squat mulberry trees.

Arterius finished the cup of not-blood and handed it over with a polite nod. Messing with foreigners was a familial trait, it seemed. Or is everyone in Jhunal like this? “...I best be steppin’, ma’am. Have a friend waiting for me.”

“Of course. Welcome to our little town, stranger.” She gestured over to Craven, who was within view asleep on the road a minute’s walk away. “Tell the same to your friend.”

“Er, will do.”

Arterius tipped his hat up to the woman, hefted the water bladder on his shoulder, and made the walk back to Craven. By the time he reached the Gryphon his shoulder was burning.

He let the bladder slam to the ground in front of Craven’s snoring face. “Craven!”

The Gryphon did not stir.

“Craven!” Arterius slapped the side of Craven’s beak. When that didn’t work, he resorted to lifting the end of the bladder, unfastening the lid, and stepping on the bulging end to make it spray out in a jet across his face.

It worked beautifully.

The Gryphon recoiled and groaned, bashing absentmindedly at the droplets flying at him. Arterius ducked underneath a rogue paw before fastening the lid once again.

“Get up.”

“Just…” Craven wiped his newly-moistened face with a paw. “...Just give me a second.”

Arterius groaned and let the bladder's end fall on the ground like a heavy sack of flour. “Drink that when you have your wits about you. I want to do some investigating today before everything closes.”

“Yeah, right.” Craven scoffed tiredly. “‘Investigating.’” He mocked the word before nestling his head back onto the pathway.

“Going around talking to people is investigating.”

Craven only groaned in response. Steadily, his eyes were closing again.

“Don’t fall back asleep, Craven.” Arterius poked the Gryphon’s neck with the intention to be as annoying as possible. “Drink the water I got for you.”

“mmmmmm.”

“Craven. Drink the water.” Poke. Poke.

“MMmmmmm.”

“Good riddance. I swear by every god that exists…” Poke-poke-poke-poke.

“MMMMMMMMMM!”

“Drink. The. Water.”

Craven’s head shot up and he roared at the sky. “AAAAAAAAHHH! FREE ME GODS. FREE ME FROM THIS TYRANT KING!”

“I’m not a tyrant.” Arterius folded his arms, annoyed. “You did this to yourself. Act like an adult and drink the damn water.”

Eventually Craven got going enough to down the whole bladder in one massive gulp. The tepid water didn’t do much to wake him up, but it gave him the tiny bit of energy he needed to get back onto his feet and continue the walk into town. He’d surely wake up once he reached the rookery.

Smirking, Arterius climbed aboard as Craven began to rise.

They passed by the nerahm Arterius had gotten the water from, and the evoked hare girl was back, waving as they passed. Hopefully they didn’t hear or see me getting Craven up, Arterius thought. Gods, who am I kidding? Of course they did.

Arterius tipped his hat down to her from atop Craven’s back--rather happy that it was down this time--and continued on into town. Craven still swayed, but not as horribly as before. This crash was a bad one.

The town itself was beautiful. These people used their exorbitant amount of dyes to their advantage, coloring everything as brightly as they could. Nerahms were painted every color of the rainbow and dyed banners hung between each and every one. It would’ve seemed gaudy if it wasn’t so consistent.

Other Jhunaloc started to appear--finishing the day’s work or going from A to B. It was an odd smattering of Humans and Changelings, with the majority to the Changelings. They glanced in their direction; curious enough that a Gryphon was walking into town and not just landing at the rookery, but not so gobsmacked as to stop and stare. Since Mulberry Squall had a rookery and was of decent size, these people weren’t so surprised to see strangers coming into their town despite the plateau's isolation. They seem pretty open to outsiders, Arteris thought. How many bounty hunters have they come across in their time, though?

With the little Arterius knew of this place, there was no large reason to be concerned that this was going to be a repeat of Kalvesta. When the Conqueror came, Jhunal opened their borders and surrendered immediately, he remembered. For their leaders back then, joining the Dynasty had looked like an opportunity. These people must be weak, then. Overly trusting, perhaps.

Craven's steps brought Arterius into the heart of town now, and the Jhunaloc went back to their business. It must've been a memorable entrance (for sure).

Let Jeskels hear of our arrival, Arterius thought, straightening his stature, proud, she’ll know that we mean business.

---

“What do you mean only eight coppers?” Arterius said, looking up at the Gryphon beyond the counter. “I flew all the way from Kreios to deliver those letters.”

“You did?” The receptionist said, narrowing his eyes.

Arterius sighed. “Craven did. Craven flew and I rode on his back.” Arterius pointed his hand towards the inner parlor of the rookery where Craven had padded into moments ago, leaving him to deal with the mail deposit by himself.

“They’re just letters, son. It’s a livable wage for a single flyer as it isn’t supposed to be paying for the wage of two.”

He was right, of course. Arterius just hoped that it would’ve paid more.

“Eight coppers is the rate for this distance,” the Gryphon continued. “The Dynasty sets those numbers by law so I can’t go lower or higher.” Most Gryphons were mail carriers for the Dynasty. It was hard to find work otherwise, but the ones who tried usually found their way by flying around the Dynasty as singers--people who sung stories and shared the news.

Leaving the coins wasn’t an option, so Arterius was forced to swallow his pride. It was humiliating. It was even further worsened by the fact that he had to stand on the tips of his toes to reach the tabletop. “Thanks,” he said, spitting the word.

The rookery was one of two buildings in Mulberry Squall that wasn’t egg-shaped (the other was the sheriff’s office). It seemed out of place: a colorless, grey-painted brick flying the gold dragon banners of the Dynasty. The ceilings were tall and the roof flat--meant to make room for Gryphons to land and to allow room to walk inside comfortably. The exterior was bland, and the waiting room where people came to receive or send mail seemed sterile.

Past the waiting room, however, was another world. Arterius pushed through the big swinging doors that customers were forbidden to pass through, and entered into a warm, hearty warehouse-turned-parlor full of stories and laughter. It was a speakeasy of sorts. After the Gryphon homelands had been colonized, they’d turned their main workplace into a miniature Giaruocuo to communally keep it alive in every state and county of the Dynasty. Even here, in this town that was tiny and isolated when compared to the rest of the world, they’d enswathed the rookery in ornamentation and vestiges. Across the ceiling were colorful streamers networking like a spiderweb, and on the cold walls were chalk murals depicting god-threatening mountains pocketed with tunnels that whistled when the winds came. It told a story--as the Giaruocuo loved storytelling--and Arterius was familiar with it.

The room silenced as Arterius--an outsider to this holy place--strode inside.

The Kobold stopped mid-step, suddenly feeling like he didn’t belong. Thankfully, Craven saved him.

“ARTERIUS!” Craven bellowed, running over. He skidded to a halt a foot away and threw a wing around him. “EVERYONE! This is Arterius. I was with him when Lancelos revolted. He’s a friend.”

“I recognize him as well,” an older, feminine voice in the speakeasy said. “Met him and Craven at a rookery in Kalvesta. He is no friend to the Dynasty.”

The room visibly relaxed at the two endorsements and quickly turned back to a steady rumble of conversation and storytelling. Arterius took a breath.

“SOIL-STUCK!” Craven boomed, waving a paw at the Gryphon who’d just endorsed Arterius. “I didn’t see you there. Hello!”

The older Gryphon waved back, looking a bit off put from Craven’s energy

It wasn’t at all uncommon to come across the same Gryphons when travelling. The couriers took mail to every corner of the continent and were constantly on the move.

Shit, Arterius thought, s_he was there during Kalvesta. What all did she hear?_

Before Craven could run off to talk to another Gryphon, Arterius grabbed one of his feathers. “Hey Craven, I’ll need the coins from your saddlebag.”

Craven’s demeanor soured and his eyes narrowed. “And why will I let you have them?” He kept his voice low.

Great, Arterius thought, he’s still feeling bitter about today. “I told you that I want to go investigate tonight. While I’m out I’ll fetch us some supplies.”

“You said nothing about going shopping.”

“Whatever. I’m going out to be productive while you’re going to stay here and drink, so you can at least let me have the coin.”

Craven chuffed, but obeyed--lowering down so Arterius could get easy access to the saddlebag. With the seven coppers inside, all-in-all Arterius would be worth seventeen coppers total. Hardly anything, he thought, but this is the most we’ve had for a while.

“Is that all?” Craven asked.

Arterius slipped three back into the saddlebag to cover Craven’s food and drinks for the night. “Yeah, thanks.”

It looked like Craven had been slapped with a fish. He blinked, and looked down at Arterius with gobsmacked, widened eyes. “I can’t remember the last time you actually thanked me for something.”

“Well… I should do it more often,” Arterius said. “I couldn’t survive without you.”

Something resembling a smile crept up on Craven’s face. “You’re totally right. I deserve all the recognition.”

“I don’t know about that, but, er, yeah… a part of it.”

A Gryphon paw punched Arterius’ chest playfully. It nearly knocked all the breath from his lungs. “I’ll take it.”

Arterius got himself back together, tipped his hat up to Craven, and made his way back to the waiting room.

That’ll get me some good grace with him, he thought as he stepped out of the rookery and into Mulberry Squall proper. I'm going to need him to like me if I’m going to sleep in the rookery tonight.

---

Mulberry Squall was small enough that most of the shops were local. In fact, the only guild he could see was the Alchemist’s. Those guys were everywhere though, so Arterius couldn’t really be surprised.

The town green in the center of town was different than what he’d expected. For the first part, it wasn’t green. It was a bare, circular patch of dirt about thirty feet in diameter. When he’d started to walk across it at one point one of the locals had glared at him, so he quickly stepped off to go the long way around. Strange, but he wasn’t about to question what he figured was a local custom.

To his annoyance the only store still open was the general store--a wide, squat nerahm painted green and large enough to support a second story.

A brass bell dinged as Arterius pushed his way inside, and an evoked rabbit behind the counter glanced at him, squinted, and absentmindedly flicked his hand to say hello. It seemed Arterius had caught him in the middle preparing to close.

A thatch wall split the nerahm interior into a semicircle and a floor-to-ceiling shelf wrapped around the entirety like a protective, consumerist shell. Three other shelves--much shorter--were cut like dashes in the center of the room, perpendicular with the counter so that an eye could be trained into each aisle. A Human woman browsed.

Arterius eyed the Human warily, but--with effort--he managed to focus the majority of his mind to his natural curiosity. What are these shelves about? Arterius thought. Storage?

After eying the shelves for a few moments, Arterius padded to the counter and peered over to the shopkeep. “Excuse me, sir, may I see your ledger?”

The rabbit (covered in smudged-white fur across his entire body), raised an eyebrow. “Ledger? Why do you need to see the ledger?”

“...That’s how general stores work?” Arterius cleared his throat. “Sorry, I’m not from around here. Is it done differently?”

The rabbit snorted and gestured to the shelves. “Look around. You can bring anything you find and bring it up to the counter.”

“...Huh. Alright.”

Arterius couldn’t help but wonder how they dealt with theft here if they left their product out in the open like this. It was a smaller town, he supposed. Everyone knew everyone and word spread insanely fast, so it’d be hard to get away with it for very long. Like how Lancelos was.

Food was the main priority. Craven would be fed at the rookery, but Arterius needed to find his own. They’d gone through the last of their rations this morning: a cured-beef sandwich with hardtack bread (AKA the same thing they’d been eating for the last three days). Arterius' people were vegetarians (he’d mostly given up on keeping to that tradition now--survival was too important) so some fruits or vegetables sounded heavenly right about now.

“Hey!” the shopkeeper shouted, making Arterius swivel to face him. “While you’re in Jhunal, know that it’s considered disrespectful to walk in that direction.”

Arterius blinked. “Huh?” The Human woman glanced over the shelves at the sudden commotion.

The evoked rabbit circled his finger in the air. “Only walk counterclockwise inside of a nerahm. We want to respect the turning of the world.”

“Er, yes. Sorry about that.”

Arterius turned around and made sure to walk counterclockwise in the circular room. Could the shopkeep be messing with him like the Changeling family had? It was certainly possible that trickery was a cultural tradition, but the tone of the shopkeep’s voice made it seem as if it had actually been rude.

There was a flash of Kalvesta in his mind, and Arterius shuddered. He did not want a repeat of that.

So, counterclockwise it was. In this circular motion it made it a bit annoying to browse properly--as he kept seeing a shiny bracket or a little farming tool that he’d missed, meaning that he’d have to politely push past the Human and loop around to check them again, many times needing to get a stepstool, but he got used to it quickly.

I could get used to browsing, Arterius thought. He liked checking the tool’s durability and how well the pieces were crafted together. Craftsmanship and tinkery fascinated him.

With every item there was a set price, and every five feet there was a sign put up proudly saying, ‘Absolutely NO haggling.’ Arterius hadn’t been planning on it, but it was nice to know.

After finding two discounted apples (as they were about to rot) and a strange fried sphere called an “eggball,” Arterius was feeling a bit conversational. “If you don’t mind me asking, sir,” Arterius began, glancing over at the shopkeep, “where do you get your timber?”

The rabbit shopkeep was sitting behind the counter now, hands folded over one another annoyedly. “From the Vehsil. In the Dynastic Tongue, the best translation is ‘forest.’”

He must be annoyed because he’s trying to close the store, Arterius thought. Oh well. He can wait a few minutes longer.

“What is that… the… the Vahseel?”

“Vehsil,” the shopkeep corrected. “It grows underneath the soil in spanning networks like the veins in your arm. Sections are dug up and cut for building.”

Arterius had never heard of such a thing. “And it’s red?”

“Mmhmm,” the shopkeep affirmed, tapping a finger on the counter.

That must’ve been why the ground was so firm underneath the pond, Arterius thought. Maybe that’s also why there aren’t any forests, as the Vehsil would choke out any saplings that tried to root. Gods, what an interesting thing! A forest that grew underneath the ground? Why? How? There's something strange about Jhunal, Arterius thought, what is it? Not realizing in time to stop himself, the intrigue made his tail start to sway and strike a display of wooden cups behind him.

“Shit.” The cups scattered to the ground and Arterius quickly swiveled to pick them up. “Sorry… sorry… shit.” His foot kicked one farther away, and he’d dropped his damn eggball in the process of trying to lunge for it. To his side, the Human woman was trying not to look over the shelf. The shopkeep just looked on with tired eyes.

When the cups were back in place, Arterius rose, cleared his throat, and went back to browsing. That’s enough small talk, he thought.

He’d gone through the food and produce, then the basic tools and equipment, and now he was getting into the local ointments. It was only natural that a region’s people would have discovered the medicinal properties of the local flora and fauna and created their own medicines from it all. Specifically, there were a couple of jars filled with a floral-scented cream marked to ease muscle soreness. Craven will be extremely sore tomorrow, he thought. It seemed right to get it for him, especially since he wouldn’t have to pay the heightened prices of the Alchemist’s Guild (the price of Arterius’ monthly tinctures were blatantly exploitative). Still, he went for the smallest of the jars (still five coppers!), which easily fit in the palm of his hand. This’ll smooth things over for us, I’m sure.

At the corner of his eye Arterius caught the shopkeep shift in his seat so that he had a better view of the aisle Arterius was in. Why was he-

Oh, Arterius thought. He thinks I’m going to steal something. With his shorter, Kobold stature, he was hidden better than the Human woman, who towered over the waist-high shelves. Was the Human looking at him? He wasn’t sure. Still, a cautionary tingle down his spine told him it was time to leave.

Arterius awkwardly tipped his hat as he came to set his three items on the counter. “Here are my things… The, er, things that I wish to buy.” He cleared his throat.

The rabbit shopkeep nodded and started checking the price sheet in his ledger.

“Have you had any bandits come into town?” Arterius asked suddenly, not sure how else to word it. The shopkeep looked up from his ledger, obviously bemused. “They call her Bitterwort. But her real name is Erahm Jeskels--an evoked wolf all the way from Jumakot. Heard of anyone fitting that description?”

The rabbit scratched his eye idly. “Don’t know where you came from, but banditry never happens around here.” Arterius sensed the unspoken words in the comment.

“What does that mean?” Arterius said, putting too much aggressiveness in his voice.

The shopkeep’s eyes narrowed and he slid the items forward. “Nine coppers.”

Arterius smarted. “Nine? By my math it should be seven.”

“Nine.”

One of Arterius’ fists balled. His other hand angrily pointed at the apples. “It’s marked back there as two for one. The eggball is one. And the cream is five. One plus one plus five is seven.”

“There’s a guild fee for the cream.”

“The cream isn’t from the guild. It’s locally made, and you can’t resell-”

“No haggling,” the shopkeep interrupted. He pointed to a sign behind him that proclaimed the same bold message as the signs out on the floor. “It’s nine. Take it or leave it.”

Arterius snapped. “How about I take your jugular and-”

“Two coppers.” The Human woman was suddenly over him, placing two coppers on the countertop. “To cover the fee.”

The rabbit’s cheek twitched, and he glared a hole through the woman’s head. Arterius was dumbfounded. Had a Human really helped him out? He peered over at the two coppers she’d placed down to see if they were actually real, and they were.

After a few moments of silence, the woman looked down at him and flicked her eyes to the counter, as if telling him ‘go on.’

Right, Arterius thought. He took a breath to dispel some of his anger, put five coppers down, scooped up his new belongings, and got the hell out of there. Kalvesta replayed in his mind.

The sky was dark as he pushed back into the flat streets and found a place to stand around the general store. Maybe I should just go, he thought. But the woman was still inside, completing her purchase. Wouldn’t it be right to at least thank her?

Why had she helped him in the first place? Of course, she’d done the right thing in helping him, but it was hard to think the Human didn’t have some ulterior motive. He had no idea what to think of this place and its people now. ‘Happy and submissive’ my ass.

He needed a moment to calm down anyway. So he took the time to jot down the expense in his journal before the Human strode out, looking like she needed to relax herself.

She was on the shorter side for a Human. A few inches over five feet, maybe. She wore the same type of dress the hares had been wearing, though it didn’t have a hole for the tail. And straight, pink hair (not dyed--a natural pink) was braided into two long strands that hung down behind her head. Not too dissimilar to rabbit’s ears, Arterius thought. In Jhunal, at least, ethnicity was not directly tied to species. So while Changelings were the majority population, this Human woman was as much a Jhunaloc as the hares were.

“Er, ma’am,” Arterius said, tipping his hat. “...Thanks.”

She spat on the ground and nodded. “Yuren is a bastard. Sorry you had to deal with that, miss.”

I wasn’t exactly being kind to him either, Arterius thought. “Er, it’s ‘sir,’ actually.”

The woman looked him up and down--eyes resting on his tail and horns. “Sorry, I thought with the long tail and-”

“Common misconception.” Arterius cleared his throat, suddenly feeling even more uncomfortable. His aforementioned tail nervously made lines in the dirt. “If you don’t mind me asking, why’d you help me out?” Growing up, Humans had always been the ones to look out for the most.

“My sister-in-law is a Kobold. I get it.” She scratched the back of her head. “Well, not fully, of course. But I… you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Arterius’ tail twitched even more nervously. “But… sister-in-law? That’s illegal.” Somewhere in the legal archives there existed a dusty old codex: a book codified into law many years past. In that book, there existed a list of species classified as sapient beings of the Dynasty. On that list Dragons, Humans, Changelings, and Gryphons had been written down. Marrying anything out of that was akin to becoming engaged to a feral animal.

The woman tapped the side of her nose mischievously. “Not if you know the right cleric.”

“...Oh.”

The woman smiled at him and turned. “Have a good night, friend.” As she walked away Arterius couldn't help but note that she walked in a strange way. With every step she remained on the tips of her toes, which Arterius knew from prior experience was rather odd for Humans. They must mimic how the Changelings walk, Arterius thought. The evoked hares and rabbits had digitigrade legs like himself and were the majority of the population in Jhunal. Over the centuried this culture formed it seemed the Changeling style and walk had taken precedent, and the Humans in the population had taken to copying it. It was the same thing with the hair styled into bunny ears. Intersting.

Arterius watched the woman go, his curiosity dissolving into an unnamable feeling tingling his scalp like a cold rain. What was he supposed to make of that interaction?

I should go to Craven, Arterius thought, looking in the direction of the rookery. Oddly, the reverberations of the Gryphon’s roaring laughter seemed like a nice reprieve to get his mind off things. Everything was closed now, anyway. What little ‘investigation’ he could do (if he could even call that pitiful shopping visit he’d stumbled through an ‘investigation’) was mute. He should go and join Craven, get a drink, and let this confusion drift into oblivion.

No, Arterius thought, you promised yourself that you’d never cower again. You’re an adult. You can’t hide from everything like Craven does.

Craven could wait. It’d be beneficial to learn how to get around town anyway. A walk to clear his mind, learn the town's layout, and to go over everything was just the thing he needed… right?

What are you doing, Arterius? he thought, setting off on his walk and taking a bite out of his eggball. What are you doing?

---

By the time Arterius returned to the rookery the moon was defiant in the sky like the hook of a farmer’s scythe. The people of Lancelos--his people--had thought the cold moon as safety and the burning sun as danger (the darkness gifted them many places to cower, after all). But for the last year Arterius had avoided night walks while he and Craven were bunkered down in cities, usually isolating those moments of lonely contemplation for when they camped in the wilderness where no robbers hid in alleyways. Mulberry Squall seemed a safe enough place to walk, though. It even had a sheriff.

A year, Arterius thought. A year of travelling with Craven. It’s felt both like an eye-blink and a century.

His night walk proved inefficient however. Fatigue and absentmindedness blockaded him from mapping out Mulberry Squall like he'd wanted to. Failure, Arterius thought. What would dad think? You’re an adult. Adults get things done.

The receptionist from before was the one to let him back in the rookery, Gryphon eyes glaring down at him. Evidently he remembered how Arterius had treated him before.

Craven was fast asleep on the speakeasy floor. Despite it being the floor, it wasn't an uncomfortable spot as dozens of rugs were scattered across the room like the largest game of fifty-two card pickup Arterius had ever seen. Other Gryphons were fast asleep too, and the few still awake were quietly swapping stories in the corner. Arterius siddled around the sleeping giants as quietly as possible. Gryphons were all nudists, so he inevitably got an eye-full of some placid sheaths and slumbering spades during the journey. His mood was too bitter to be enticed, though.

Arterius’ claw grazed a wooden bowl that stank of alcohol as he ended his journey. Craven was lopsided on his stomach, curling in a loose arc similar to the moon. He looked… ditzy. His pink tongue was lulling out of his beak, drooling, and one of his wings was half-folded behind him like he’d crashlanded. It was a wonder how Craven could sleep like this.

“Hey, Craven,” Arterius said, pushing against the shoulder and keeping his voice low, “wake up… Come on. Wake up for me.”

Eventually one of the olive eyes fluttered open. “...huh?”

“Are you with me?”

Craven groaned and closed his eye. “Urgh… somewhat.” His breath stank of wine.

“I got some muscle cream for your wings. I’ll need to climb on to put it on, so don’t crush me, alright?”

He groaned again. “Can’t you wait till morning?”

One of Arterius’ claws tapped the rug underneath him, annoyed. “It’s best if I put it on now so that the aches don’t set in. I had trouble getting it, so just let me put it on in peace.”

“Heh…” Craven drunkenly laughed under his breath. If there was a punchline Arterius had no idea what it was. “Sure… Sure, Arterius. Go right ahead.”

He’s still in a goddamn mood, Arterius thought. How long was this one going to last? He was starting to get sick of it. Hopefully this ointment would get him to see sense.

Wanting to get this over with quickly, Arterius grabbed ahold of Craven’s neck and hoisted himself onto the back. The feathers tensed underneath him as he did, as if Craven’s previous contentment was rapidly worming away with Arterius’ presence. Arterius stifled a scoff. You can deal with me, you big, feathered prick. I’m the one keeping you alive.

The jar of ointment he’d gotten was tiny--meant for someone much smaller than Craven. But stretching resources was a Kobold talent, so Arterius went to work with confidence.

He started at the left wing first. It was the one stretched out behind, giving him more surface area to get the ointment in. It was more tedious than expected. He couldn’t just slather the cream on and call it a day, he had to force his fingers between the plumage and get down to the quills, where he could get the cream to lather onto the skin. In mere minutes Arterius’ fingers were starting to burn from the effort it took.

Arterius grumbled. “You better be thankful for all the stuff I do for you, Craven.”

Craven did not answer. There was a likely chance that he had fallen back into a drunken sleep. Arterius didn’t care to check.

He’d started at the shoulder of the wing and had since moved down the elbow--dotting the limited cream strategically down its length. Gryphons are rather strange, he thought. They have six limbs when most other things have four. Dragons are the same way, I guess, but they’re alien in other ways. The gods must’ve been feeling creative when shaping this species.

Suddenly the wing flexed and Arterius instinctually jumped away, falling flat on his ass against Arterius’ spine. The entire wing shuddered, and it soon felt like Craven’s entire body was shaking in a strange, uneven rhythm.

“Shit. Craven, are you okay?” Was he having a seizure or something? Maybe a night terror? They'd both had their share of them. Arterius rushed to the neck and peered around the giant ears, trying to see if Craven was foaming at the beak. But… he wasn’t. The whole body shuddered again--shaking Artertius--and Craven moved his paws to cover his face.

After a few long moments Arterius realized what was happening. Craven… He’s crying, isn’t he?

“You… you… you…” Craven breathed in heavy. “I’m sorry… I’m…” The stench of alcohol grew stronger. “I just… can’t. I can’t, Arterius.”

“What can’t you do?” Arterius didn’t know what to make of this. His entire body felt like he’d been dumped in a frozen lake. Why do I feel like that?

“I… I know… I know that I’m such a burden on you… I’m sorry. I…” Craven sniffed into his paws--trying to keep himself quiet with all of the sleeping bodies around them.

The frozen lake got colder. “You’re not a…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

“...Thinking… Thinking about… When I think about Lancelos, I just… I can’t. I just can’t do it, Arterius.” Craven raised the bowl to his eye, as if to check if any drops of alcohol remained. None did. “I need to keep flying. To keep running. To keep… I don’t know.”

Arterius had no idea what to say. He patted some feathers awkwardly instead.

“I don’t know… I don’t know what I am doing.” Craven’s body curled further into a ball.

“Well… er…” Arterius patted with both hands now. Maybe it’s helping? “You’ll… get through it. Everything’ll be fine. Just keep flying and you’ll be a-okay.” The Kobold’s mind wandered to the same memories… to Dragon fire. He didn’t much care to think about it either.

The bitterness crept in, quickly warming his body from the lake’s ice. Lancelos was a Kobold barrow. Craven whimpers and cries while he still has his rookeries to go to, and I work and work while having nothing but ash and melted stone to remember.

Craven curled further, threatening to tip Arterius off. “I just… I’m sorry, Arterius.”

None of the other Gryphons had noticed this, it seemed. Goddamn it, Arterius thought_, I need someone to take this out of my hands._ “You’ll be fine, Craven. Everything works out in the end.”

“You’re a bad person, Arterius.”

The words didn’t seem real at first--said as casually as one would speak about cutlery. But steak knives could be used to cut all the same. “What is that supposed to mean?” He knew it was the alcohol talking, yet the words angered him nonetheless.

The Gryphon shuddered once more. “I’m not a dumb horse.”

Arterius smarted. “I never said that you-”

“And I’m not going to go back on what I said,” Craven slurred. “We’re… we’re done. And I’m going to drop you off the first chance I get. You coming here with some fucking ointment like it solves everything is not going to change my mind.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Bullshit.” Craven enunciated the word by flicking his head up, sending Arterius tumbling onto the spine. Now Craven craned around to look Arterius in his eyes--the Kobold sprawled out on his back. “You ‘thanking’ me earlier? It was just to get on my good side so you could keep sleeping in our home. And how you treat people?” He shook his head, amiss. “You treat people like dirt… Like they owe you something.”

You promised that you’d never cower again.

Arterius snapped. “You owe me everything, Craven! I don’t think you could even begin to understand half the shit I put up with just to keep you alive.”

“I don’t-”

“In the uprising of my people no one asked you for your help. The tyranny of fire burned my home. Not yours. So while we run to survive across the continent you owe it to me to give me your wings, your home, your everything. I am the victim. Not you.”

Craven exhaled a long breath and one of his pointed ears flicked angrily. Arterius was standing on his back, finger pointed, like some commanding officer. “‘Victim.’” Craven rolled the word over and over on his tongue as if it was a foul piece of meat. “I didn’t realize you alone held that title. Should I grovel?”

The Gryphons in their closest vicinity had woken (early enough to hear what Arterius had said, based on the anger in their eyes). In the far corner the Gryphons who were swapping stories stared too, paws balled into fists. Arterius stammered. “W-wait, er, I didn’t mean…” He trailed off.

The tunnel-pocked mountains of devastated Giaruocuo seemed like eyes on the wall as well--ancient and angry. Like the barrows of Lancelos, almost.

He needed to leave. That was apparent without any words or bitter remarks.

Craven’s tears had dried by the time Arterius climbed off of him and shuffled through the speakeasy, tipping his hat low to cover his face. Dozens of eyes watched him go. You messed up, Arterius. Why can’t you keep your mouth shut?

Arterius glanced back at Craven as he finally got to the parlor doors, but the Gryphon was looking away. Rightfully so. He didn’t let the doors hit him on the way out.

The night air wasn’t as fresh as he’d hoped it to be. There was an incessant floral smell to the Jhunal air and something musky that reminded him of sweat. It clogged his nostrils and made him want to gag. Maybe even to vomit. He would’ve, but the doors behind him soon swung open to a Gryphon shouldering through. Craven? he thought. But no, it was another one that had decided to follow him. Soil-Stuck, was it?

“Why’d you follow me?” Arterius asked, desperately wanting to be left alone. I have to figure out what I’m going to do now. Maybe steal a horse and make for Amalee? “Came to tell me off?”

The older Gryphon had a plumage analogous of a blue jay, but that which was grayed at the quills with age. The beak was long and thin, yet still curved downwards at the end for meat cutting. Three turquoise rings pierced her sharp ears. Soil-Stuck was immense compared to him, and she sat in the soil a mere foot away with a kick of dust, sighed, and reached into her saddlebags.

Her mighty-paw retrieved a brown-wrapped cigarette, and she lit it with some wood shavings and a tinderbox. The movements were precise and measured. It seemed she was going to make Arterius wait a moment before speaking.

Soil-Stuck exhaled a long puff of white cancer-smoke. “How old are you, hun?”

One of Arterius’ fists balled instinctively. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It matters to how I will judge you. Now answer.”

Arterius wanted to spit at the blue-jays paws. You already messed up enough, Arterius. Just answer the question. Exhaling, he answered. “...Twenty in a few months.”

“Ah.” She did not look at him as she took another drag. “You certainly have the brazenness of a nineteen-year-old. Hmm… I will consider for a moment.” She fell silent and looked up at the stars, contemplating.

“Consider what?”

Soil-Stuck did not respond.

“Can you hear me up there? What are you considering?”

Soil-Stuck did not respond.

That was it then? She just wasn’t going to respond to him? “...Good riddance, ma’am.”

Soil-Stuck did not respond.

He could go, he supposed. But where was there to go? His tail swished behind him impatiently. Fine. I’ll wait.

Soil-Stuck did not respond.

Arterius tapped a claw on the dirt. Maybe I should go back inside?

Soil-Stuck did not respond.

“Who are you? Are you a spiritual leader or something?”

Soil-Stuck did not respond.

Tap Tap Tap. His claw went: Tap Tap Tap.

Soil-Stuck did not respond.

His mind began to wander to Erahm ‘Bitterwort’ Jeskels. He still wasn’t any closer to figuring out where she was. Maybe she skipped town or-

“Alright. I have considered enough.” Soil-Stuck took a drag of her cigarette, and Arterius jumped at the sudden return of her voice. “You are old enough to know better.”

Arterius pinched the bridge between his eyes. “Ah, I see what this is. You’re going to try and impart some wisdom onto me. You’re right. I know better and I should be more respectful of everyone else.”

Strangely, Soil-Stuck smiled. “Yes. You are certainly nineteen.” She took a drag. “And you are correct. I am trying to impart wisdom on you, and I suggest that you try to take it. However…” She reached back into her bags and got another cigarette. It was comically large for him, but she held it out regardless. “I hear that Lancelos is rather isolated, but Craven tells me you pawed him off just earlier today so I know you’re not innocent enough to claim ignorance. You may be happier if you listen to me. But if not, the decision is yours.”

“The alchemists say that tobacco will kill you.” Does Craven have to be so outward about his sexuality?

“Hun, this isn’t tobacco.”

Arterius eyed the cigarette. It had an… odd scent to it. He couldn’t quite place it. Earthy? His brain felt a bit numb just breathing it in.

After an embarrassingly-long moment Arterius realized. “...Oh.”

A nefarious grin curled at the edge of her beak. “I will not force you to, of course. But if you oblige me, I believe that this medicine may help the maladies of your ego.”

Arterius scoffed. “Ego?”

Soil-Stuck did not respond.

“...Alright.” He reached out for the stick and had her light the blunted end with some more lit kindling. “So this is supposed to ‘cure’ my ego?”

Soil-Stuck laughed--a pleasant giggle that reminded him that this Gryphon was an old woman. In her fifties or sixties, if he had to guess. “No, of course not. But medicine doesn’t kill the diseases in your body, either. They strengthen your blood’s will to fight. I like to think that this is the same sort of way.”

Arterius hadn’t even sucked on the end yet and the smoke was already making him lightheaded. This will really help that? He wanted to roll his eyes, but he liked the idea of this helping him to be… what? A better person? Feel bad all you want, he thought, ‘Intentions are mute while actions speak.’ One of dad’s sayings.

Suddenly, she narrowed her eyes. “Please don’t rely on this, hun. Only from time to time.”

“Time to time,” Arterius echoed. He glanced back at the rookery behind him then back at the stick. Ah, hell with it. He chomped down on the end and did his best to inhale.

Problem with that, however, is that he had no knowledge of the ‘correct’ way to inhale. The drug-smoke got sucked into his esophagus for sure, but it burned. It burned a lot actually. His chest was beginning to sizzle from it. Alright, hold it in, he thought. The burning only got worse, and after only a few moments he had to exhale the gray smoke, coughing and sputtering all the while. Above his hacking he could barely register that Soil-Stuck was laughing.

“You’re not supposed to hold it in. But I appreciate the effort.” She took the blunt from him before he could drop it in the dirt.

“Good-” the last bit of lung remaining from Craven’s dust cloud hacked out in a fit, “-riddance.”

Soil-Stuck waited patiently for a few moments so he could get himself back into order. His body swayed back and forth. “Other than the burnt chest, how’re you feeling, hun?”

Arterius blinked slowly. “...Fuzzy. Is it supposed to kick in that fast?”

“Made for Gryphons, these are. They need to be strong.”

“This strong?” Arterius took a step forward and found his body wasn’t really registering that he was moving. It felt like he was underwater… but not. How do you explain such a feeling? “...Woah.”

Still smiling, Soil-Stuck extinguished the blunt and threw it back into her saddlebag. She took a drag from her own, then. It didn’t seem to be having the same effect on her as it did on him. Tah…tah…tolerance, Arterius thought.

Looking at her, his mind went to Craven. Suddenly he began to get very sad.

“May I ask you a personal question, Arterius?”

The sadness shook away, and suddenly his head was turning towards her. “Oh? Sure.”

“Craven told me that you chose your name. May I ask you why you chose what you did?”

How much has Craven told this woman? He’s a big talker, isn’t he? A big, big, big, big, big talker. Arterius giggled to himself. Heh… ‘big.’ “Well it’s a man’s name. And it’s noble sounding. I wanted to be a knight growing up, you know. Before I realized they were assholes that policed the Dragons' whims.”

“The Dynasty has many Dragons, unfortunately,” Soil-Stuck said. “But there was also Jilvaryl the Betrayer, who died trying to stop the Conqueror. And Gornugal the Treelover and Yahvmoorin Three-Eyed, who both worked against the Dynasty in their own ways. And there were all those that fled to the world beyond this continent at the tide of the Conquest. The Dynasty is bad, but I’m not so sure all Dragons are.” She spoke of the Conquest; when the Dragons rose to conquer the continent and all within it. Jilvaryl the Betrayer had tried to stop the rain of fire before they could even begin, but had failed--throat torn out by his brother, the Conqueror.

Even through the haze his anger took him. “Where the hell did that come from?”

She shrugged. “The names give hope.”

He felt woozy in his rage. The memories of his people’s doomed revolt were flashing in his mind. “Naming those Dragons as if they were martyrs means nothing but to debase ourselves. If you worship the bare minimum then it will become the standard.”

Soil-Stuck took another drag. “I’m not so sure. Jilvaryl is called the Betrayer because the word itself is a pit--meant to paint him the evil traitor. While those who have the right of it know him to be the most loyal among them. Remembering that one has risen before is crucial to knowing that it is possible for you to now. Names have a… transcendental quality to them.”

“Oooooooh… I see where you’re going with this. I don’t subscribe to that… nature-loving stuff.” Lancelos had strayed far from the Kobolds of the Wilds, who believed in the fey tenets and the magic of names.

“Well, we of Giaruocuo believe in it. Names have power. That’s why we name ourselves as we do. They act as a ward against the tragedies of life and person. I named my daughter Avarice so that she may safely become generous, for example.”

The rage was gone in a few fuzzy seconds. Whatever he was on was making it incredibly easy to forgive and forget. Not even I can claim Craven is craven, Arterius thought. He _throws himself at everything without a thought. Heh. _

“I believe that your name is a blessing upon you. One to make you who you truly are.”

Arterius swayed back and forth. “And what is that?”

“As you say: a knight.” Arterius laughed audibly, but a quick (unfocused) look at her face made it obvious to him that she was being serious. “I’m being honest, Arterius. I see it in you, in time.”

‘In time,’ Arterius thought bitterly. “Why wouldn’t it be a ward like your names?”

Soil-Stuck put a paw to her chest, as if offended. “A warded name would only work for the Giaruocuo. It’d make no sense for it to work for anyone born without ice in their blood.”

Arterius blinked, his eyelids not exactly timed with each other. “...Sure.”

“You were right to choose a new name for yourself, but you are mistaken to take the name of ‘victim.’”

Oh ho-ho, here we go. This is the lecture I’ve been waiting for. “Well definitionally, I am a victim.” His words slurred as he spoke. “Though I shouldn’t have said that in there and ruffle everyone’s feathers.” He coughed. “You are too. The, er, Giaruocuo are. Just in different ways.”

“For some brief moments we are, yes.”

It was hard for him to feel annoyed right now, yet the words cut at him. “No…” Arterius gestured to the rookery, his hand swaying. “You sleep at your place of employment for gods' sake. Your mountains have been turned into summer palaces and warehouses. It’s not some moments, it’s every moment.”

She looked upwards at the stars. The same sky Giaruocuo and Lancelos shared. “We know Jilvaryl not to be evil because he did not believe himself to be a betrayer. He rose for the greater good. But you, Arterius, are opening yourself to be consumed by the name ‘victim.’ If you fall into the maw I fear you may never rise from it.” After a moment she rubbed the end of her stick into the dirt, extinguishing it. She’d only gone through half of the thing. “Victims do not build.” Her head swung over to the rookery. “Build something, and rise.”

She left Arterius alone out in the summer night with only his numbed mind to keep him company, her gentle voice whispering that those of Lancelos were always welcome in the rookeries as far as she was concerned, before the doors swung shut. How am I supposed to think about that? he thought. Her words were analyzed and synopsized again and again, best he could, but the glue of the wisdom was struggling to stick. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

The sadness from before was creeping back in. For some reason he kept imaging his father’s face. I don’t need to see that. I don’t want to see that. He pushed it away. There was something productive he could do, right?

But there was just him, the night air, and a decision: do I go back inside or not?

Eventually thunder in the distance answered it for him. Stormclouds were beginning to cover the stars and rain would start thundering down in the next few hours. The nerahms have no overhangs, he thought. I’ll be drenched. Maybe I’ll even get sick. It would be best to get back inside. Maybe he could curl up underneath one of the tables away from sight and hope the glares didn’t tear him apart too much.

You promised that you’d never cower again.

No. He wouldn’t hide and let the danger pass over him--he’d face it.

Walking inside, though (moreso stumbling inside), there wasn’t much to face. The speakeasy was quiet, and even the night-owls at the corner table had gone to bed. The room was like one big blanket of Gryphons. Only two were awake that he could see: Soil-Stuck and Craven. They both looked at him as he entered.

Gods, this was a mistake. His Draconic scales were beginning to shift upwards in alarm, making him look like a scared cat. I moreso feel like a whipped dog coming back for scraps, he thought.

Arterius tripped on some tails and wings (being high made this feathered maze quite difficult to navigate gracefully) before making it to Craven. His olive eyes glared down at him, while Soil-Stuck padded silently away. Whatever she had said to him was private.

“...Sorry, Craven,” Arterius managed to squeak out.

It didn’t seem to satisfy the lithe Gryphon, going off of the rageful twitch in his eye. “You’re as dumb as a horse, Arterius, and with the mouth of one.”

Arterius smarted. “Now don’t-”

“I wanted Soil-Stuck to take you off my hands but she has a family and can’t risk getting involved in our flight from the Dynasty. So the plan is the same: I drop you off somewhere safe and never see you again.”

The Kobold swayed back and forth. It took a long time for the words to register. “I… Fine. What about you?”

“None of your concern.” The olive eyes squinted. “Oh… right. She got you high.”

Arterius blinked. “...First time.”

Impossibly, that made Craven chuckle, though it didn’t last long. “That doesn’t surprise me.” He sighed. “You know… the right thing to do would be to talk to you again in the morning when you’re sober. So… I guess I’ll try that? Yeah. I’ll try that. Let’s talk again in the morning, okay?”

That damn sadness was coming again and Arterius had to swat it off. This drug is making me sappy. “Alright.”

“I can get used to high Arterius.” Craven looked him up and down once again before turning and plopping on his side. “Goodnight.”

Arterius instinctually moved to lay by Craven’s neck, but stopped himself. That wouldn’t be right. Not now. To keep warm in the wilderness, Craven had allowed him to curl at the back of his neck most nights. Having a wing over the Kobold was too romantic for either of them and being by the neck meant that if Craven rolled over in his sleep he wouldn’t inadvertently smother Arterius to death. It’d become a routine now.

Room is hot enough with all these bodies, Arterius thought, I’ll be fine.

He curled up a few feet away and found sleep shockingly easy to submit to. Still, even now, he had no idea what to think--neither about the world nor himself.

The tyranny of sleep claimed him.

Whatever dreams he had were destroyed by a sudden commotion washing through the speakeasy like water from a bursting dam. Arterius jolted up. The doors were being broken down--the shattering of wood nearly being drowned out by all the shouts. It was all chaos, and Arterius scrambled to make sure he wasn’t stepped on. What is happening? I was just falling asleep a second ago.

The doors shattered and a massive evoked wolf strode out, crossbow slung over shoulder. Chainmail was jacketed over her body in thick rings and a leather chestplate and vambraces decked the rest of her.

“I’m the sheriff, if you carrier pigeons don’t know that,” she said, scanning over the crowd of Gryphons. “I’m looking for a blue Kobold. Know abouts where I may find ‘em?”

It could only be one person. Erahm ‘Bitterwort’ Jeskels, apparently the new sheriff of Mulberry Squall, Arterius thought, recognizing the wolf from the bounty poster. Not ideal.

---

#

_ Part 3 _

In the chaos that came Soil-Stuck was on him in a flash. The crook of her wing scooped him up and brought him to her side as if she was cradling a baby. To the outside world her wings were folded naturally. To him, he saw only the consuming feathers that held him between wing and body.

“I ain’t one to ask twice, yah hear?” Arterius could still hear Jeskels' voice past the feathers. Feathers were everywhere.

Fly away, Craven, Arterius thought. Get the hell out of here and pick me up later!

There had to be at least two dozen Gryphons in the speakeasy and not one of them spoke up. After a few long moments the wolf woman huffed impatiently.

“I know he rode a Gryphon into town, so at least one of you knows where he’s gone to. It’s fine with me to take the Gryphon in for questioning. Which one of you is it?”

Arterius lurched in the wing-cradle as Soil-Stuck took a sudden, scared step back. What’s going on? Is she waving her crossbow around?

“What’s the charge?” One of the Gryphons shouted.

She snorted. “Your boy’s a bonafide terrorist. A traitor to the Dynasty, more like. One quick search in the monthly reports they send out and I found him in the most wanted list.” She barked a laugh. “You know what? One of yous delivered that report, I’d wager. And if I catch you sheltering him then you’re all accomplices.”

The Gryphons fell silent and Soil-Stuck swayed back and forth nervously. Her wings seemed to twitch when she was afraid.

“Boys, can we start searching? I’m a rather impatient person.” Other pairs of boots began to stomp towards them.

“WAIT!” A voice shouted--a voice who belonged to an adrenaline-seeking, annoying, big, feathered prick. No Craven! Shut up! For once in your life keep that beak shut! “I am his steed, sir-I mean ma’am. He ran off as soon as we got into town and I haven’t seen him since.”

“Ah, you’re Craven. You’re wanted too, you know?” It seemed the air was sucked out of the room. “You really think I’m gonna believe your story? Yuren told me the Kobold was making problems in his store well past dusk. I ain’t no fool, stupid bird.”

“I am not a bird. Nor am I-”

“Grab ‘em.”

Once again there were the sounds of chaos: grunting, shouting, slamming, and heavy footfalls. Past the muffle of the feathers Arterius heard Craven shout something about his paw, but before he could make out what exactly it was the words were drowned out by Soil-Stuck’s sudden movement. The other Gryphons were moving, too, based on the many, many quick footfalls. Fleeing out a back door, he assumed.

Don’t run away! Arterius thought, squirming. We outnumber them! Beat her! Kill her! Revolt! His breathing was starting to get quicker. Flashes of the day Lancelos burned were coming once again, and they were coming strong.

NO NO NO. You promised that you’d never cower again. During the fires he’d hid while others burned. You promised yourself. You promised yourself! He started to yell but Soil-Stuck compressed her wing, forcing the air out of his lungs like a blacksmith’s bellows before he could.

After that day he’d hated small spaces, and having the breath pressed out of him only made the compression worse. The world was falling down on him, crushing him, killing him, and he could do nothing. Again. His body began to shake and he panted empty breaths. I need to get out I need to get out I need to get out.

The torture lasted two and a half minutes before the wing unfolded, dropping him on the ground. He fell prone into thick mud as thunder cracked overhead. Arterius took a desperate breath first, and reached for his side as if for a weapon second. There wasn’t one, of course. All of his weapons had been lost in the Dragon fire.

A paw slammed into his chest and sunk him further into the mud. Soil-Stuck loomed above him, eyes wide in terror. “You need to get a hold of yourself!”

Arterius writhed under the paw. You promised that you’d never cower again. “Why didn’t you fight?”

“And risk making my daughter an orphan?” She shook her head, amiss. “If that woman is being truthful about being the sheriff, then attacking her will bring the wrath of the Dynasty. What would happen to the rookery?”

“What about justice? What about what’s right?” Remembering a trick he’d learned from Craven, he pinched one of the digits holding him down and twisted the fur near the joint. It made Soil-Stuck recoil, giving him just enough time to scramble away from her and to his feet. He would’ve ran off but… Where? Where would I go?

“Craven is imprisoned now, Arterius. There’s nothing you can do.”

Behind her he could see now that they were by one of the windmills. The blades and the rotating top structure were all locked in place due to the storm. “He wouldn’t be if you all banded together!" Arterius should, enraged. "If everyone stopped cowering and rose up then we’d win. There’d be too many of us, even for Dragons.”

She shook her head solemnly. “It’s not that simple.”

It was that simple in Lancelos, he thought. But--stubbornly--he had to admit that it wasn’t the full truth. The Dynasty was encroaching on their underground home for their resources, and it took the Copper Council to bring Lancelos to war. Even then, many had fled from the fight. Like you did, in the end.

Soil-Stuck’s head swept to the side in sudden alarm, and Arterius followed her gaze. There were shouts in the distance, and over the rows of tulips he could see a rider on horseback carrying aloft a lantern, hunched over, buffeted by the strong winds. Soil-Stuck’s head swung back towards him.

“I must go. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Arterius.” She reached into her saddlebags for something. “I think she has two deputies. Maybe they’re bandits that came with her. I don’t know.”

“How does an outlaw become a sheriff?” There were so many questions and so little time.

“I don’t know. Bureaucratic idiocy, maybe?” He remembered Yuren’s words from the night before: ‘banditry never happens around here.’ Maybe the Jhunal were overly trusting, or maybe they had gotten used to a certain kind of life. Maybe Jeskels had just been convincing. It’d take her being appointed, though.

A rectangular, sealed box was hefted into Arterius’ hands. It was made out of balsa wood--meant to be lightweight enough to be carried by Gryphons across the continent while giving the contents protection from the elements. It felt rather fragile in his hands.

“Do you know how to use a crossbow?”

Arterius would’ve smiled if not for the circumstance. “I do. I really do.”

“I thought you may.” Kobolds had been the ones to invent crossbows a long time ago, as it gave them the ability to shoot long-ranged bolts while not having the strength to draw back the more-typical bow. “Hopefully that will help you in your escape. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

From the side, the deputy shouted towards them. Arterius was hidden behind the rows of tulips, but the giant Gryphon was less fortunate.

Soil-Stuck gave one last look at him with pained eyes. “Good luck.” And then she was running off, taking to the skies. The rain weighed her down and the wind threatened to take her hostage--in any other place in the world it’d be suicidal to fly in weather like this, but since Jhunal was so flat there was nothing for her to crash into. In moments she had disappeared into the rain and the shadows.

“Hey! He’s over here!” The deputy hadn’t actually seen him yet, from what Arterius could tell. But a Gryphon had just flown away from this spot in haste. Arterius being here was a rather easy assumption to make.

Not having time to even open the box, Arterius sprinted into the rain. Thankfully the sun was only beginning to rise and the stormclouds above made the farmland dark. He’d be in shadow, but his pursuer was on horseback with a lightsource.

The horse started thundering towards the ditches he hid behind. Once he gets in the rows I’m in he’ll see me for sure. Arterius had the fortune of having the rider a few rows down, where the tulips shielded him, but once the rider got into the same rows as Arterius he’d be able to look straight down them for miles. Arterius would be as exposed as he would be running down the street naked. He could duck into adjacent rows, sure, but it was a game he could only play for so long with his pursuer taller and faster than him. Limited time, Arterius thought. Limited time.

He made for the windmill. It was the closest structure towards him, and thus the only thing that could possibly give him shelter. Specifically, it was a post mill; a type of windmill whose entire structure rotated to face the wind. The upper structure pivoted on a central beam that connected to the ground on struts, and to get to the millstones in the upper structure a shabby wooden staircase came down from a door. Usually, the staircase would hover over the ground, but now the end was stuck into the mud as an anchor.

Can I use this? He thought. Unfortunately, there was a tailpole that came out from the bottom of the rotating structure, ending with a wheel. Damn it, they rotate this thing manually. He was hoping that he could release the anchors and make the windmill spin around wildly as a distraction, but that just wasn’t in the cards, it seemed. But maybe he could do something else.

The horse was clopping behind him, checking every ditch individually. There was no time to make a plan.

Arterius was spotted as he ran into the patch of circular, bare earth around the windmill, getting to the staircase. There were shouts and the quick clopping of hooves. His capture and imminent death was coming quick.

Strangely, his mind wasn’t panicking as much as he would’ve thought. There was a strange focus on him: either concentrate or die.

The bottom third of the staircase folded up at a hinge, and seemed to be only lowered when it needed to become an anchor. Using the precious seconds he had, Arterius threw the box up onto the stairs, cupped his hands into the mud, and dug out the proverbial anchors. A moment later he was up onto the stairs, folding them up behind him, just as the horse skidded to a stop.

“Give yourself up!” the deputy shouted, dismounting. “You can’t outrun a horse!” The deputy was another evoked wolf--spindly and scarred across his muzzle. Changelings of Jumakot were usually evoked wolves, Arterius thought, most likely came with Jeskels, then.

Arterius ignored the man and ran up the stairs to the wood-braced door. By the gods above, he thought, please let this be unlocked. Thankfully, it was. Maybe some deities were looking out for him. In penance for what happened to Lancelos, most like.

The windmill was lurching now with the anchor released, but it wouldn’t start moving with the tailpole down and the blades locked in place. Rain and wind buffeted against the red-timber walls, shaking the entire structure, and Arterius couldn’t help but think this was like being inside of a ship during a storm.

What now? he thought, blinking.

The folded staircase wouldn’t stop the wolf and neither would the door. There was a chair the farmer would sit in while they grinded flour (which wasn't usual--the majority of Jhunal windmills were said to pull up water from the ground), and Arterius quickly braced it against the wooden handle of the door. That wouldn’t do much, either. But he hoped that it would give him the few precious seconds he needed.

For five of those precious seconds he tried to understand what he was looking at.

The central anchor came into the internal structure and left enough of a gap at the floor of the windmill that he could theoretically climb down through it. Doing so would be useless, however. He’d be spotted quickly and be run down. Otherwise, there were two massive millstones in front of him whose distance between one another could be adjusted for the desired granularity. They connected to a radial gear that went upwards to the upper, vertical gear that connected directly to the blades. A lever locked the gears in place.

With those five seconds up, he lunged for the lever and cranked it, unlocking the gears and therefore the blades. The stormwinds caught it near-instantly, and the whole structure began shaking violently despite not directly facing the wind. Outside, he heard the wolf yelp, curse, and then grunt through a series of thuds. Asshole fell down the stairs, Arterius thought. The image was funny, but more importantly it gave him more time.

He threw the fragile box down and it cracked open like an egg on his first throw satisfyingly. Inside was a crossbow, its lever-cocking aid, and a single bolt. One bolt! Arterius thought angrily. Of course it’s one bolt! Still, the crossbow was well crafted--though it was meant for someone bigger than him (go figure)--and the bolt was tipped with steel.

Steel, he thought. He looked towards the millstones. An idea was forming in his mind.

Glancing around again, the floor of the windmill was rather lousy with flour dust. Usually, that’d be a bad thing. For Arterius, however, it was potentially life-saving. Typically millers were to keep their windmills clean to avoid dust explosions, as the millstones could create a spark and the flour would catch. This miller must’ve gotten lazy.

What if I light this thing up… intentionally? Arterius thought. Certainly, it’d be enough of a distraction to help him get away.

For a brief moment he considered how expensive this windmill must’ve been to make and how its destruction may affect the miller and their family. The next moment, however, Arterius threw the concern away. They can rebuild. I’m trying to survive here.

He could turn the crank and get the millstones to grind together to make a spark, but that came with the caveat that he’d have no control over the fire. He’d have to escape before the aforementioned ‘dust explosion,’ so putting it up to chance wasn’t really appealing to him. If he made his own fire, though…

Bangs against the door brought him back from his stupor. The chair was holding against the deputy’s onslaught, but it wouldn’t for long. No other plans, Arterius thought. It’s either this, or bust.

Grabbing the bolt and a bit of broken box, Arterius clambered up the wall until he was adjacent to the two millstones. Thankfully there was an internal framework he could put his weight on as he needed some stability right now. Since the blades were spinning, the millstones were spinning. Spinning really, really quickly, Arterius thought. If a piece of clothing gets stuck in the stones I’ll be Kobold-paste.

First, he held up a flat piece of balsa wood as a base (like a table) and used rippings from his shirt as kindling on top of it. Next, it was a matter of pressing the steel tip of the bolt against the rotating stones. Flint and steel, he thought. Flint and steel.

The door kept buckling inwards: SLAM SLAM SLAM.

He’d chosen the driest part of his clothing to rip, but still it took longer than it should. After an eon of pushing the bolt against the stone like a blacksmith to a grindstone, a small, tiny fire formed atop the bit of balsa wood he was holding. Now he just needed some luck so that this entire windmill wouldn’t explode before he escaped.

SLAM SLAM SLAM

Arterius clambered further upwards until he found a decent spot to stoke the fire. Outside, the blades had surpassed their maximum speed, and it seemed almost like the windmill wanted to rip free from its base and fly away. It was all Arterius could do to sink his claws deep into the crimson timber to avoid falling down into the millstones.

SLAM SLAM SLAM

When the balsa wood was an inferno and the inner wall of the windmill began to catch, Arterius scrambled down. For the last few feet he jumped down with a light thud.

SLAM SLAM SLA-KATHUD

The back of the chair splintered and the door busted inwards. The wolf deputy stood in the threshold like a looming monster, an accusatory finger pointing towards the rain-slicked Kobold. A crack of lightning silhouetted the deputy for a brief moment. “YOU.”

The both of them lunged simultaneously: the wolf for Arterius, and Arterius for the crossbow. For once, Arterius was happy for his tiny stature, as he soared underneath the reaching arms of the wolf. He grabbed the crossbow mid-lunge.

The wolf skidded to a stop before the millstones and spun on the fat of his paw. In the same moment Arterius bounced up to his feet before the door and hefted his crossbow, slamming the bolt in with a smooth motion. He’d done the same motion a thousand, thousand times in his youth. Granted, this time the crossbow was useless as he hadn’t had the time to cock the string back (the cocking aid was required), but hopefully the wolf wouldn’t notice that in the dark. He pointed it threateningly.

It didn’t seem to matter, though. The wolf was over-confident. With a wicked smile, he seemed sure that he could still beat down the tiny Kobold in front of him. “There’s nowhere-” As the wolf lifted his wooden cudgel behind him as if to swing, the weapon got caught between the two massive millstones and flew back. His arm was wrenched back violently with it and something audibly cracked within the muscle. Whatever remained of the cudgel bounced off the wall, clattered to the ground, and fell down the hole around the central anchor to the muddy earth below. Thankfully, the deputy had let go of the weapon before the rest of him could be dragged into the stones, but now he was weaponless… and with a dislocated arm.

The wolf grabbed his pained shoulder, cursed, and slowly turned. It took some ill luck and idiocy, but now the Kobold seemed a threat to him. Just don’t look too closely at the string.

Arterius couldn’t help but laugh. What a grand turn of events this was. “Glad they sent an idiot after me,” Arterius said, grinning. He hefted the fake-loaded crossbow up higher. “How’d your boss become sheriff? Tell me and I’ll shoot you somewhere that isn’t fatal.”

The wolf put his one good arm up in surrender. “I… W-well… I…” His canine snout sniffed, and he suddenly looked up. Embers were falling down around them.

“Tell me. Unless you want to explode together?”

Still, the windmill was shaking violently. “The last sheriff was an old, lonely man,” he said. “One good date with Jeskels and she was appointed as her replacement…” His eyes refocused back on the bolt in the crossbow’s shaft. “Th-that’s it. I swear!”

And then the sheriff must’ve mysteriously passed away shortly after. How convenient was it for them that he was old? It made sense, he supposed. Usually when people looked for outlaws they didn’t deign to investigate the sheriffs. And I bet the Dynasty made no checks on her identity, either. Why would they care about what happens in a small, Jhunaloc town? “What’ll happen if I tell everyone Jeskel’s true identity, do you think? Your little vacation will run short, won’t it?”

That notion seemed to scare him. His eyes widened, and he- “Wait a minute…” the evoked wolf said, the fear suddenly dissipating as his head tilted to the side. “That thing isn’t even cocked.”

Arterius blinked. “Nice talking with you!” Without another word he sprinted out the door, grabbing the cocking-aid on the way out. Adrenaline pushed Arterius forward at a speed he didn’t know he was capable of, and in a second he was already at the base of the stairs just as the wolf was jumping out the door.

“Get back here you motherfu-”

The windmill exploded.

It wasn’t nearly as large an explosion as Arterius had imagined. There was a lot of air ventilation inside with the door open, and the pelting rain must’ve diminished a lot of the strength as well. The windmill didn’t even blow apart. The inside turned into a momentary fireball, charring the interior, but the whole structure still held together. The deputy, however--who was leaping out the door at the moment of ignition--wasn’t so lucky. He was sent flying like a ragdoll by the blast, landing in some tulips twenty feet away. Nearby, his horse galloped away in terror.

He’s still alive, Arterius thought, spying the evoked wolf moaning and rolling around in the mud. But definitely out for the count.

Arterius couldn’t stay to loot the deputy as more were certainly on their way (Jeskels herself was most likely galloping here this very instant). He had to run, using the burning windmill as the distraction he needed. Still, there were some strategies he could implement to his flight. They wouldn’t expect him to head towards town, for instance. The rain would cover his tracks too. No time to waste.

So Arterius hefted the heavy crossbow onto his shoulder and ducked down into the fields, heading towards town. After only a minute he was forced to go prone into the mud as two horses galloped right by him, missing him in the darkness.

They wouldn’t expect him to go this way, but Mulberry Squall still wasn’t a safe place for him to be. It seemed right that when he got to the outskirts by the rookery that he should pivot and circle the town in a wide arc. He was confident he’d shaken his pursuers, now.

Lightning clapped in the distance and rain pelted, yet the windmill still burned despite it all. He could still see it, like some demonic beacon in the stormy dawn. Jhunaloc citizens were running out to try and smother the flames now, but Arterius knew it’d be no use. Whatever they could save would be char and embers. The fire had reached the blades now, and as they spun violently in the wind they formed a ring of flames that reminded him of a Dragon’s wrathful eye.

Fire, Arterius thought, everything circles back to fire.

---

Standing outside the family’s nerahm, Arterius couldn’t help but think that things had gotten intense rather quickly. Twelve hours ago he was fixing a leaky gutter. Now he was returning to the same house to find possible refuge.

They seemed like decent people, Arterius thought, smothering any doubts he may have. It’s no matter. Sheltering me is the right thing to do.

The sky was no longer cracking with lightning as if the gods were fighting, but rain still came down in thick sheets. Arterius must’ve looked a sight knocking on the door--rain-slick, mud-covered, and with a (freshly-cocked) crossbow slung over his shoulder. His straw hat was gone, too, as he’d left it in Craven’s saddlebags.

The nerahm creaked and shifted in the heavy winds as Arterius waited for the door to open, the spring leaf suspension bracing the structure. Why don’t they just dig a foundation? he thought. Does their culture have something against digging?

The door had been painted into a mural, as seemed the Jhunal fashion. The hare family had painted theirs a brazenly bright sunset--a gradient of purple, red, yellow, and orange set on a green plain. An older, evoked hare man opened the door, squinted his eyes as he didn’t see anything at first, then glanced down to see Arterius standing there. For an odd moment the two of them stared. He must be the father. ‘Died in a fire’ my ass, Arterius thought. The Jhunaloc are a tricksy people.

“Er… hello sir!” Arterius readjusted the crossbow awkwardly. How does one ask such a thing? “I’m Arterius… the guy that fixed your wife’s gutter yesterday?” As soon as the words left his mouth Arterius regretted them. Goddamn it, Arterius. That sounds like a euphemism.

The man’s hand on the doorhandle tightened, as if he was preparing to close it at a moment’s notice. “What trouble do you bring here?” He peered out the door to the endless horizon. In the distance, the burned remains of the windmill was visible through the veil of rain.

“No trouble, sir. No trouble.” Arterius’ tail began to twitch nervously. “I… er. Well you see, I’m in a bad way. I’ve been falsely accused of some things and I was hoping that I could take some shelter from the rain while I figure out what to do.” The accusations weren’t really a lie… but they weren’t true, either.

The father’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry sir. But we cannot help you.” He went to close the door but Arterius quickly put his claw in the door. He had no boot, so the scales were pinched between door and frame, making him grit his jaw from the pain.

“Can’t we agree that the Dynasty is a horrible thing? We need to work together on this. Band together. Support each other. That’s how we win.”

“You’re not entitled to my family’s aid, sir,” the father said, tightening his pull on the door. Arterius thought for a moment his claws may pop off.

Another, younger voice yelled from the other side of the small nerahm. “Is that the angry man with the hat?” Arterius couldn’t see the hare girl from his perspective--the father blocking any and all view inside. “Dah, is that him?”

Instinctively, Arterius opened his mouth to yell out to the girl. I talked with her the most and she seemed to like me. She’ll vouch for me and do what’s right. But he stopped himself before any words came out, his maw clamping back down with a snap. You’ll really bring a kid into this, Arterius? What would dad think?

His anger was palpable now. Why was the world so unfair that people refused to band together? It made no sense to him. Yet… there was fear in the father’s eyes. Something that Arterius was doing was wrong.

“...Sorry, sir.” Arterius pulled his claw back and the door slammed shut.

He’d seen fear plenty of times. Early that day he’d seen it in Soil-Stuck’s eyes, yesterday he’d seen it in Craven’s eyes when they did the first practice-save, and a year ago he’d seen it in everyone’s eyes when Lancelos burned. But he’d never seen it in someone's eyes like with the father before. Not… because of him. There was the deputy earlier, sure, but that was different. This was…

What? What is it, Arterius? he thought. Finally realizing how horrible of a person you are? Go on: cower in a hole and feel sorry for yourself. What’ll get done, then?

He shook his head, trying to get the barbed thoughts out of his head. His feet were taking him away from Mulberry Squall, down the road he and Craven had come in on. There was no real destination in mind. ‘Intentions are mute while actions speak.’ That was one of dad’s sayings. Do you really think that you could live up to such wisdom? You still act a child.

His claw slipped in the mud and he nearly stumbled. Craven was right. Craven had always been right. You’re simply a bad person.

---

Sulking was just what the body needed.

In many ways this was his worst nightmare come to life. Craven was captured and Arterius was on his own with nothing but a shoddy notebook and a crossbow to his name. He may survive the day, but what’ll happen when word gets to the Dynasty? Without Craven’s wings he’d never be able to outrun the Stormwardens. He’d burn like the rest of them.

Maybe a horse can get me away in time, he thought. It had been his backup plan in case Craven died or abandoned him. But even then he’d be bound by land and road. The Dynasty’s Gryphon soldiers could still get ahead of me.

His feet had brought him to the elm tree where he had pawed off Craven the day before. It gave him some shelter from the rain, though it wasn’t a full measure. Fat drops landed on his snout and eyes as they dribbled off the dark leaves above him. He was sitting at the base of the tree--legs held against his chest by his long tail--trying to keep warm.

The best bet is for me to disappear into obscurity. Paint my scales, change my name, and take a job doing menial labor. Quarrying stone… or something like that. The Dynasty was a big, big place with many, many people. They couldn’t find him if he did that.

You promised that you’d never cower again, he thought. Arterius also hated the idea of changing his name. He’d fought his identity for many years and came out the end victorious enough to choose his own name, so it felt he’d be betraying the struggle if he went down that path. Lancelos lives on through me, too. I have to consider that. It was foolish to believe he was the only one of Lancelos left. Though he hadn’t seen it himself, hundreds of others must’ve fled through the same tunnels he’d snuck out of. They weren’t being hunted down (as far as he knew). Arterius was just a… special interest to the Dynasty. If not for him finding Craven captured, freeing him, and flying away on his back, Arterius wouldn’t have gotten far from Lancelos’ smoldering ruins.

Craven, he suddenly thought, his tail tightening, I wonder what’s happening to him right now. What if-

He shook his head, forcibly discarding the thought. Craven would be fine. Gryphons are \a registered sapient race. If I was the one captured, then I could be executed with impunity. He at least will get a trial. He’ll avoid execution.

Come on, you bastard. You really don’t care about your loyal friend? He sacrificed himself for you.

Shaking his head and curling tighter wasn’t properly getting rid of the thoughts. He needed something else to distract himself.

So Arterius rose from his spot between the roots and headed towards the only other landmark within walking distance: the pond.

“I need a horse,” Arterius whispered to himself. “That’s all I need: a horse.”

With a single step past the reeds, he sunk in the mud up to the heel of his digitigrade legs. He cursed. His claw would’ve sunk even deeper if not for the strange, firm ground below. Gods, what a bad idea this was. But… huh. There was something rather odd about the pond.

For a moment he thought maybe Craven’s whirlpool had continued its momentum until now, but friction and entropy should’ve stopped it long ago. Yet currently the pond was still spinning counterclockwise, as if siphoning the rain water into the earth. A natural phenomenon, perhaps? Arterius wondered if maybe there was a cave network underneath Jhunal in which all the rain water drained into. Thinking about it now, shouldn’t the banks be overflowing with the amount of rain there was? It must be draining somewhere, but where? And if there truly was a drain into a cave system, then how come the pond still existed during sunny days? It made no sense.

Arterius’ curiosity would’ve been piqued if not the burdens of his mind. For some reason, looking into the whirlpool, all he could see were the hare father’s frightened eyes.

“No…” Arterius mumbled, turning away from the pool. “I don’t want to think about that.”

Come on, Arterius. Don’t you think it’s right to at least consider what you’ve done?

Arterius shook his head. He felt as if he was going mad. The Gryphons’ scorned eyes looked at him now, too.

I thought you promised not to cower anymore?

“I…” Arterius wanted to punch something. “...I-I don’t know.”

He’d gotten away from the pool now and trudged back to the protection of the elm tree. The trip to the pond had been an utter failure. He’d only succeeded in becoming muddier and feeling even worse about himself.

With a sudden realization, Arterius realized that he’d never been alone in his life. When he was young and fought with his identity, dad had helped him. And after Lancelos, he’d had Craven. But now he only had his mind… and that was not a good thing to be alone with.

“I need a horse,” he repeated. “That’s all I need to survive.”

Where would he get one, though? He hadn’t seen any horses in his walk the night before. The Jhunaloc weren’t an equestrian people, it seemed. In fact, the only horses he’d seen had been from…

Of course, Arterius thought, Jeskels and her lackeys. The Jumakot were known to ride horses even though their homeland was obscenely dense with foliage. Horses were brought there a while back… I think? His own ignorance was astoundingly frustrating to him. Even now, he still didn’t know much about Jhunal, and even less about Jumakot. If that was because of inaction, the fact that Lancelos was isolated from the rest of the world, or both, he didn't know.

All I know about Jumakot is that its people are very proud. Over the past year in his ‘investigations,’ he’d heard stories about how the Jumakot settled debates by fang and sword. ‘Blood Payments,’ they called them. It wasn’t an alien concept to Arterius. In the old stories of knights he used to idolize, they’d take up a sword when their honor was contested. But even then they were to yield--not to the death as the Jumakot preferred.

Is that something I can do? Maybe I can duel Jeskels for her horse? But that’d never work. He was simply too small. His single bolt probably wouldn’t do the trick either, unless he got lucky.

_Maybe you could duel her to save Craven? _

It was a stupid thought. He’d already established that there was no physical way he could win a duel, so why even consider that? Craven’s a goner, he thought. Just like Soil-Stuck said. I have to worry about myself.

The thought was pushed away and he focused his mind on figuring the best way to steal a horse underneath Jeskel’s muzzle. They were most likely kept at the sheriff’s office, and from his walk the night before it should be…

He took his journal from the inside of his vest and hunched over it like a gremlin to shield it from the rain. Taking care with the little ink he had left, he sketched a map of Mulberry Squall to the best of his memory (which was not good, as his mind had been distracted last night). It’d be best to steal a horse in the night, but they’d be locked up in the sheriff’s office's interior stables (like the rookeries, all the Dynasty’s sheriff’s offices used the same basic layout, making him familiar). Therefore it’d be best to steal one in the morning when they were let out to piss and graze.

Maybe that’s also the best time for you to rescue Craven?

He pushed the thought away. The only thing he should focus on was himself. Still, as he continued sketching Mulberry Squall and taking notes on what he remembered, his eyes kept flicking back to the white-feathered quill pinched between his fingers.

---

Arterius walked into town with the rising sun annoyingly in his eyes. If only I had my damn hat, he thought. It'd been left in Craven's saddlebags.

The rain had stopped sometime the night before, though he wasn’t sure exactly when. Arterius had been tossing and turning, curled up in the mud, in dazed lapses of sleep when his body registered that the fat drops stopped landing on him sometime in the night. I’m lucky that I didn’t get sick, he thought. Though, some snot dribbling out of his nostrils and a chill despite the warm sun told a different story. I’m not sick, Arterius thought, stubbornly. It’s just allergies.

During the night he couldn’t help but be reminded of the last winter. A scouting patrol had spotted them, and he and Craven were forced to reroute northwards where they wouldn’t be followed. Up there the winter was harsh, and they were forced to take shelter in a Jjorvasken cave during the worst blizzard he’d ever seen. That was the second closest time Arterius had come to death. Kobolds weren’t cold-blooded despite what some may claim, but they were small--and therefore they didn’t have much mass to produce heat. Without Craven engulfing him in feathers, Arterius would’ve surely drifted off into an eternal slumber. A cold death, rather than the fiery one he’d expected.

Gods, what he wouldn’t have given to have Craven’s wing over him last night. The rain was horrible.

The sadness crept up back into him with that thought. Craven will be fine, he reminded himself, pushing the emotion away. Focus on yourself.

He didn’t want anyone to see him, but the sheriff’s office was unfortunately deep inside the town. It wasn’t too far from the dirt patch that made the city center, actually.

You’ve never ridden a horse, Arterius. Are you really going to figure it out so quickly?

It was a fair point, but what other option did he have? He was a Kobold. You either innovate or you die.

The route took him arcing around Mulberry Squall, using the namesake trees as cover, and entering in from the south. There were a few especially large nerahms lining the street here where the mulberry juice would be pressed and bottled, and where the tulip petals would be seeped, boiled, and the dye harvested. From there, they’d be shipped out from the rookery across the Dynasty.

Either focus or die, Arterius thought, getting to one of the industrial nerahms. They were painted in stripes of orange and green, and the crimson timber posts bent upwards at the top into a chimney. There weren’t many people around, thankfully. That’s weird, though, he thought. In a town like this people should be up bright and early to get to work. Where were they all at?

His intuition sent tingles down his spine, yet he continued regardless. The crossbow was still hefted onto his shoulder and it made it awkward to run around at a crouch. He wished he had a strap to sling it around his back, but for now holding it was the only way to keep it with him.

Arterius glanced from side to side at a street and dashed across once he saw the coast was clear. I am not stealthy, he thought. Arterius had been trained in the skills of carpentry and metalworking, not in infiltrating a town under the threat of death. Yet, he continued.

Either focus or die.

In the distance he could hear some domesticated dogs barking. They were too far away to be aware of him, but still the sound unnerved him. From what he’d seen, they were medium-sized animals with fluffy tails and fur blotched black and white not too dissimilar to a cow. Friendly, too. They probably wouldn’t maul him, but they’d certainly make a lot of noise while covering him in kisses.

Dashing across another street, Arterius dove into the weeds as he heard some people hurriedly walking towards the center of town. He was only a block away from the sheriff’s office--he couldn’t give up now.

The group was some of the town’s Humans. Pink-haired, short, and walking strangely. They were talking while they walked, but Arterius didn’t care to listen. All he had to do was be completely silent.

Suddenly he felt a build up in his head. His nostrils were stuck in the weeds, and with the totally-not-a-cold from last night, he was feeling…

Shit. Arterius needed to sneeze.

He risked making some noise to cover his nostrils with a finger and thumb, but it didn’t do much to stop the incoming explosion. Goddamn it, goddamn it, Arterius thought. How did he not consider this? He was gritting his teeth now, trying to stop himself. A sneeze is going to be the thing to kill me. A goddamn sneeze! The group was walking right by him now, if he sneezed now, then-

“...Execution…” Arterius picked up from one of the Humans--all the other words lost in the rabble.

Arterius smarted, and the sneeze disappeared. Did I hear that right? Quickly, he honed in on the passing conversation.

“-through the Lord or our Ward, or an appointed judge,” one of them said.

“I don’t know anything else,” a second one said, “that’s just what Idot told me. It doesn’t make sense to me either.”

“She’s been cruel ever since she came here. And rules don’t seem to apply to her.” The third one paused nervously. “It wasn’t like Sheriff Gorum to appoint someone like that.”

“Gorum was a fool and you know it. He could hardly tell the difference between mahogany and wine.”

The other two laughed, as if in on some joke Arterius was outside of. And--just like that--their conversation tapered off into far-off mumbles. Arterius had hidden from them successfully.

Without really thinking, Arterius jumped up and ran towards the group.

“Hey!” he shouted.

It got the three Humans’ attention for sure, and they whirled around, only to go eyes-wide and freeze at the sight of a crossbow-wielding Kobold standing before them. Their hands went into the air in surrender, and their fleshy lips stammered. There’s that damn look again.

“You said ‘execution.’” Arterius was panting as he stood before the trio. Why? He hadn’t been running. “Who’s getting executed?”

They all stammered in shock and fear, and it took Arterius pointing his crossbow at the tallest among them to get an answer out of her. “AH! The-the Gryphon. Y-your accomplice?”

“When?”

The shortest one spoke up. “Should be happening right now. We were running late.”

No… His fist balled in rage. NO.

He went off into a sprint and ran directly through the three of them, not sparing the time it’d take to safely round them. None of them grabbed for him, thankfully. There wasn’t the time to waste.

‘You’re a bad person, Arterius.’ He could almost hear Craven repeating those words in his head. Don’t think. Just run.

The idea of a trial had been thrown out in favor of whatever Jeskels desired, in this execution--the unfairness of that is what the trio must’ve been discussing. He was a fool to think that Jeskels would do what her job required. She was an outlaw--becoming sheriff was just a convenient way to lay low. Killing Craven was probably fun for her.

Mud kicked up behind him as he ran. No. I can’t just say it’s because she’s sadistic. There’s gotta be another reason. Suddenly, he remembered something… something he had said to the deputy. I asked the wolf guy what would happen if Jeskels’ identity was revealed. Lightning struck him. …This is my fault. If Craven saw a courtroom, then he could reveal Jeskels’ secret as well. Killing him now kept her secret safe.

Wouldn’t that undermine her authority? he thought. Doing this risked getting her reported and thus having her identity revealed. Yet again, maybe she simply wasn’t thinking that far ahead. Or maybe she’s planning to skip town and this is her way to give herself some more time.

He was about to the town center now and he could see the entirety of Mulberry Squall’s citizens wrapped around the dirt patch as if it held some sort of contagious disease. To the side, there was an out-of-place wooden gangway with heavy weights on one end. And at the edge of the dirt patch, constrained on an oxen-pulled cart, was a white-feathered Gryphon held down by ropes.

Just realizing that this is your fault now? Arterius thought. You promised yourself that you’d never cower again, but that’s all you’ve been doing. Cowering from accountability. Cowering from yourself.

‘Reap what you sow.’ His father’s voice boomed in his mind.

The crowd saw Arterius now and jumped away from him as if he was a rabid dog, making a split through the crowd. Beside Craven, holding aloft a glaive, was the wolf sheriff. The Gryphon was restrained by ropes in every conceivable measure, even his beak was tightly bound shut. Craven had closed his eyes in anticipation.

“Wait!” Arterius screamed, sliding to a stop in the mud, crossbow raised high in the sky.

Jeskels’ two deputies on either side of Jeskels came alert, reaching for their cudgels. One of them was giant and muscular and the other was spindly--the one he’d beaten before. He seemed well despite being thrown twenty feet by an explosion. The alchemists must’ve fixed him up.

Jeskels stood in the center, the sun behind her, and at the edge of the circular dirt patch. Her glaive lowered to rest on the ground and her lips curled into an amused smirk.

“Aye, there he is,” she bellowed. “Come to settle your debts? I’m afraid his crime is too high to pay off.”

“I have no coin. The only debt I’ve come here to pay is one of blood.” Arterius spat on the ground between them. “I challenge you to a duel.”

---

#

_ Part 4 _

Jeskels wasn’t wearing the chainmail she had worn the morning prior, yet still she cut a horrifically-intimidating figure. While standing, her head was higher than even Craven’s, marking her close to seven feet. Her body was rippling with muscles built atop of muscles--probably some that Arterius had never even seen before. He bet that she could rip him in half with her hands alone. Her coat was a dark brown with some hints of crimson at her head and the tops of her shoulders, and it was shaved in lines across her body--not shaved to the skin, but cut to have razor-thin fur that looked like networking valleys carved across her. ‘Engravings,’ Arterius believed the process to be called. He could see the lines wrap around her sides, go underneath the tight wrap that held her breasts, and coalesce into an engraved eye looking out from her abs. She was a terror, and standing before her now Arterius thought he was a fool to think he and Craven could ever collect her bounty.

“A duel, you say?” Jeskels laughed and stabbed her massive glaive into the dirt, leaning on it as she looked down at him. “Well ain’t you the cutest thing?”

Arterius was panting heavy from his sprint here. At the corner of his eye, he noticed Craven watching him with frightened eyes. That damn look again. “A blood payment. We settle our debate with fang and sword. Right here. Right now.”

She looked him up and down. “And what debate is that? The Dynasty’s named you as guilty as the sun is yellow. I ain’t got no quarrel with you.”

I could reveal her identity right now, he thought, glancing over at Craven. But would these people even believe me? Worse yet, what would Jeskels do once she had nothing to lose? “You’re threatening to take my friend’s life. That’s all the quarrel I need.”

“I’m the sheriff, little man. It ain’t personal. It’s just the Dynasty’s justice.” She shook her head and unsheathed her glaive from the ground, beginning to walk back towards Craven.

NO! Arterius moved his crossbow but stopped midway, seeing the two deputies take a step towards him, hands on their belts. One bolt wasn’t going to kill her, anyway. What the hell could he do? She’s not taking the duel, he thought. She’s not taking the fucking duel!

The knights of old wouldn’t stand for this. They would’ve fought with honor. But this wasn’t a place for such a fallacy.

Honor doesn’t keep you alive, Arterius said, locking eyes with both of the deputies. Not in this world.

“You followed her all the way from Jumakot,” Arterius said, directing his words to the deputies, “and you stand by while she refuses a duel with a lowly Kobold?”

Jeskels stopped midstep. Her ears canted back towards him.

“And now she’s got you hiding away here like rats, growing fat on the mulberry juice till gods know when?” Arterius took a step forward towards the two deputies. Gods, please let them be as proud as I think they are. The spindly one just looked down at him with wrathful eyes. The muscular one looked more… thoughtful. “You want to die here in some unknown town, collecting gout and fucking the same copper whores?” He spat on the ground. “Then stay here. Be my guest.”

Both deputies shared a glance, and after a long, long pause, Jeskels pivoted on her paw pad. Arterius thought she may be angry, but she looked… satisfied.

“You play the game, Kobold,” she said with a fanged grin. “Let us see who wins.”

The words were final. So we’re going to play, Arterius thought. To be honest, the reality of the matter hadn’t dawned on him till that moment. He’d agreed to fight to the death. For Craven no less. Arterius really was the fool he knew himself to be.

Doesn’t change the fact that I’m terrified out of my mind, Arterius thought. His hands were shaking.

Arterius glanced over at Craven. “Let’s move him away. I don’t want him here during our fight.” He was worried that Jeskels would go back on her word and kill Craven outright. Or (in the highly-unlikely scenario that he was close to winning) would run to Craven and take him hostage. Jeskels was an outlaw. Outlaws didn’t play fair.

Craven pushed against the restraints at that. He seemed to be against the idea.

“I won’t be doing that. And I ought to recommend to you not to push your luck.”

Arterius’ tail was twitching behind him nervously. Around them, the crowd watched on in bated breath. “How can I get assurance that you won’t stab him with your glaive before I die, then?”

She smiled as if she was beginning to tell a grand narrative. “Oh, I was never going to kill him with a glaive.”

Arterius could tell she was leading him somewhere. Intuition crackled down his spine like lightning, but he thought of nothing else to say. “How, then?”

“I was going to clip his wings and see how fast Gryphons fall.”

She broke every finger in a man’s hand one at a time, Arterius remembered. She is sadistic. “Fall? Fall from where?”

From her narrowed, satisfied eyes, Arterius could tell he’d reached the destination of her narrative. “You know, this whole county harbors a grand ol’ wonder about itself and I can see that you don’t know about it. The Jhunali…” She bit her lip. “Jhunalin…Jhunalir… Hell, what is it?” She looked over to the muscular deputy.

“Jhunaloc,” he said, flatly.

“Ah, yeah.” She snapped her fingers. “The Jhunaloc.” The crowd did not seem all too pleased with that little performance. Whispers scattered through like ripples on a water’s surface. “The Jhunaloc are a tricksy bunch and they prefer not to tell outsiders, though they still act all friendly towards us. Don’t get me wrong, the secret’s out. With the Dynasty’s scholars and the carrier pigeons coming back and forth like busy ants, the world was bound to know by some point. People just don’t like to talk about it, you see. It scares them.” She paused thoughtfully, licking her fangs with a pink tongue. “There’s also the part about tourism being a big part of their economy and all. Best to keep a thing like this hush-hush for that. And I’m sure the Dynasty gets their gold-share as well.”

“Wanna go ahead and tell me what it is?” Arterius was getting sick of her already. Keep your anger in check, he reminded himself. It wasn’t just his life on the line.

She grinned and spun her glaive expertly between her fingers. “Best if I show you, little man.”

The crowd murmured as she walked towards the edge of the dirt patch in the center of town. And, as she stabbed her glaive into the ground there, some of the Jhunaloc yelled out as if pained themselves. None of them seized her, though. They all backed away as if knowing not to stand too close to the edge of the dirt patch.

For a moment, Arterius was confused. What is supposed to happen?

When Jeskels dug the glaive even deeper down into the earth and twisted the blade, the ground began to shake.

Some people stumbled to their knees from the earthquake but the nerahms rattled safely in their suspended holdings. Arterius managed to stay on his feet despite his shock. The whined and ran off, and Craven froze in his bindings.

A line--like a chasm--suddenly formed in the center of the dirt patch. It spread quickly to the circular edge, five feet of dirt falling downwards into a pit below. No, not a pit, Arterius thought, seeing jutting ivory and wet crimson lit by the rising sun. A maw.

Going down into the earth, with ripples of rugae taut over one another like the ripples of an inverted esophagus, was a mouth of flesh and blood and tissue and teeth. A low, mournful wail came from the depths like a dying god, and great globs of saliva shot up into the air a hundred feet or more. Teeth, Arterius thought. Gods above, teeth outlined the edge of the open maw like thick molars as well. Arterius couldn’t think of a reason for their existence other than to lock together when the maw eventually closed.

Just for the Jhunaloc to cover it with dirt again, he thought.

His heart was beating in his chest. Glancing over the side, the new, organic pit went farther than the sun dared touch. They built over this thing, Arterius realized. The knew this maw was close to the surface and they built here. They hid it under a layer of dirt!

Jeskels seemed pleased with herself. “You asked for the duel, but we do it my way.” She pointed to the wooden gangway off to the side. “Originally I was gonna have your friend walk off the edge of that. But now…” She reached down to tilt his muzzle up towards her eyes. “Now you get to be at the end of it. And on it, we fight.”

---

The gangway had been set, going ten feet over the pit of flesh. Jeskels had commanded afterwards to place Craven right where the other half of the gangway lay on the ground--weighed down by rain barrels and tied down with ropes connecting to the closest nerahms. ‘The best viewing spot in the whole damn town,’ she had said. Sadistic, Arterius had thought in response.

She was off now trying to find a bard or some musician amongst the townsfolk of Mulberry Squall. Apparently a blood payment wasn’t proper if it didn’t have a musician playing. Arterius couldn’t make heads or tails of why it wasn’t proper, but he wasn’t about to question it.

Jumakot sounds like a terrifying place, he thought. That means I’ll probably end up there soon.

Arterius crouched down besides Craven, wary to put a hand on his side. The deputies were keeping the crowd at bay, but the spindly one was close--keeping an eye on Arterius to make sure he didn’t mess with Craven’s rope bindings. No matter, Arterius thought, I understand how they’re tied together just by looking at them.

He had no idea what to say to Craven. Somewhere in the mad dash here, Arterius must’ve made the decision that Craven had been right about him--that he was a bad person. But how does one make amends to that? Is it even possible? Are you even worth it?

Craven couldn’t speak with his beak tied shut, but he could meet Arterius’ eye. It seemed… mixed. Happy? Frighted? Angry? Sad? Worried? Perhaps it was all of them. Arterius was certainly feeling a wide array of emotions himself--some impossible to give names.

After some more internal deliberation, Arterius finally spoke. “Do you think this tops Kalvesta?”

Craven’s eyes turned into a definite happy, and Arterius could hear him laugh despite the muffling. Arterius had a half-hearted chuckle himself, but it was forced.

A part of him still blamed Craven. He wanted to say things towards him. Foul things. ‘Look at what you brought me into,’ was one, ‘this never would’ve happened if you just kept your damn beak shut,’ was another. None of them came out of his mouth, though. It just… didn’t seem right.

“I’ll do my best, friend,” Arterius said, rising back to his feet. “I’m sorry if I fail you.”

He couldn’t say much in front of the deputy, but a plan was forming. A stupid plan, Arterius thought. But a stupid plan was better than the lack of one.

Arterius turned away from Craven’s eye and went into the crowd (out of the deputies’ vision) and found that the Jhunaloc didn’t part from him as they had before. Granted, they didn’t talk to him either, but it wasn’t the same fear. They pity me now, he thought.

Finding a rock, Arterius started work in breaking off the tip of the crossbow bolt. He didn’t want the tip off completely. Instead, he wanted the tip to end in a flat blade, rather than a point. Such work was delicate, however, and he needed to be sure to use the little time he had to do it right.

Bashing the steel was menial work. Calming, in a strange way. It let him think.

The maw he’d be fighting over weighed heavy in his mind, but even more so were the signs he’d overlooked. The ponds are scattered evenly, he thought, it must be how the creature drinks. Furthermore, there was the fact about the architecture here and the ‘Vehsil’ the Jhunaloc got the wood from. It isn’t wood, Arterius thought, maybe it was similar, but not really. The only explanation he could see was that the Vehsil was really veins and sinew that the Jhunaloc treated, cured, and shaped. That’s why it was colored crimson. And they don’t like to dig down to make foundations, he thought. Hell, maybe this is why Jhunal is so flat, too.

Using flesh for architecture didn’t make sense from a biological standpoint. Wouldn't it just rot? But--yet again--this wasn’t a normal creature. Whatever laws of anatomy there were couldn’t apply to such a thing. The red flesh he saw was not like his own. The teeth weren’t like his own. And whatever laid at the bottom of that deep, deep esophagus was not like his own, either.

Not ideal, Arterius thought.

But what of the Jhunaloc? They obviously knew this thing intimately, so did they worship it in some way? No, that couldn’t be it. There had been a beacon (a temple of the Empyrean Dogma--primarily focused on Basmu) set up in town--a remodeled nerahm--so that couldn’t be it. And they weren’t cheering for Arterius to be sacrificed, either. Maybe they just respect it, Arterius thought. They believe the world is alive, so they shield it and act with temperance--only taking what is readily provided.

The best way to be inconspicuous was to be friendly, but with a harmless, playful bite. No one believed someone that was too nice. But people inspected closely at those that were rude as well. Something playiful in the middle was just right. If his theory was true--that the Jhunaloc’s culture was based around making people feel comfortable enough to not investigate too deeply--then it had certainly worked on him.

Gods, Arterius thought, where the hell am I right now?

“Angry man?” a voice said. It brought Arterius out of his stupor and he looked up, seeing the hare girl in front of him. “Are you with me, angry man?”

Arterius jumped to his feet. “Mind telling me why no one told me about the giant pit of flesh in the center of your goddamn town?”

The girl recoiled. “I’m sorry! I-I, uh. Mah and dah always told me not to talk about it with outsiders. We’re supposed to mess with them, instead. It’s fun to mess with them.”

I’m right! It only made him angrier. “I’ve been lied to this entire time! That isn’t a-” Arterius stopped himself, taking a breath. It isn’t this girl’s fault, he thought. She’s just a kid. After swallowing his pride, Arterius took a step back and shook his head. “...You’re a little troll.”

She seemed to like that. “I am a troll, friend. Yes I am.”

For once in his life, it felt satisfying to swallow his anger. “You shouldn’t be talking to me, kid. Where are your parents?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Died in a fire. I told you.”

Arterius just rolled his eyes.

“I-I don’t want you to die, friend. I… umm…” She glanced over her shoulder again. “I stole a horse for you.”

Arterius smarted. “What?”

She recoiled again, her long ears falling down beside her head. “It’s one of the deputies’ horses. She was just standing there. They’re all so distracted with the duel that they didn’t even think of putting her back up.” She pointed in a direction. “She’s right over there. There’s even a stool there for you so you can climb on. I’m thoughtful like that.”

Arterius blinked.

All I need is a horse, he thought. With it I can survive.

He was never going to win against Jeskels. Arterius was too weak, too small, and too untrained. Wouldn’t it be better for one person to survive than for two to be killed? To be eaten, nonetheless?

You promised you’d never cower again.

Before Arterius could realize what he was doing, he was shaking his head. “No. I need to stay here and face this. I can’t have cowardice be Lancelos’ legacy.” And dad’s, he thought, silently adding it on to the end of his sentence.

The girl didn’t seem to understand. “But the sheriff will kill you.” She glanced around again, nervous. She’s worried about Jeskels showing up, isn’t she? “She’s brutal. Everyone talks about it. My parents talk about it too, but only when they think I’m sleeping.”

“I see what they mean.” His tail lashed behind him, nervous. Yet he steeled himself and tried to put on a confident smile. “I’ve slayed bigger things than her and won, so don’t you worry about me. You should just go home, kid. This isn’t safe for you.”

“I know…” She looked down at the ground, ashamed, before popping back up. “Wait! If you’re not going to take the horse, then at least take this.” From behind her she revealed an item he thought he’d lost for good: his straw hat. For Arterius, it was as if some divine graces were returning the little part of him that was definitively good.

“Where’d you find this?” Arterius said, muzzle agape. He took it and felt the fine craftsmanship between his fingers.

“In the trash. It’s where it belongs since it’s so ugly, but I know you like to wear it.”

Arterius almost laughed. “Why are you helping me?” ‘Why have so many people helped me?' is what he wanted to say. It wasn’t just her. It was Craven, the Gryphons, Soil-Stuck, and even that random Human in the general store. So many people had helped him get here. But why?

“I don’t know,” she said, fiddling with fingers. “You’re small… and weak… and helpless.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “And scared… just like everyone in town.”

Scared, huh? he thought, inhaling the fresh air. I am scared. I’m terrified.

Closer to the pit, Jeskels’ voice boomed that she had found a workable musician. It was time.

Arterius nodded to the kid. “Thank you. Now get out of here and find your parents. This isn’t a safe space for you.”

She saluted. “You got it, angry man!” And just like that, she ran off.

Maybe I’ll never see that crazy hare ever again, Arterius thought, grimly. Yet again, there are many people that I may never see again. Soil-Stuck and Craven, for instance.

Craven, he thought. Gods, Arterius. You are doing this for Craven. How stupid are you? That prick of a bird will never stop being stupid and annoying. Cut your losses while you have the chance.

“Arterius!” Jeskels called. “Chicken out? I was getting excited!”

Arterius glanced back towards where the girl had pointed the horse out to him. I can just run. Why don’t I just run?

“Arterius!” Jeskels called. “Arterius?”

Sighing, Arterius fixed his hat atop his head. “I’m the stupidest man that’s ever lived,” he whispered to himself, taking the first steps towards his doom. No matter, he thought. It’s time to die.

---

The crowd around the dueling grounds hadn’t dissipated as he’d expected. If anything, it’d only gotten more dense and more rowdy. The two deputies had their hands full.

“You dare disrespect the world like this?” one voice in the crowd called out.

“This is not our way!” another yelled.

Jeskels stood cross-armed by the open maw, uncaring. “Oh shut up, the whole of you. We’re the ones with weapons. You’ve got nothin’.”

The crowd got louder and rowdier. It seemed that it may reach a boiling point soon.

That’s it, Arterius thought, standing beside the gangway. You outnumber her. Beat her! Kill her! Revolt!

But no one stepped out. He still felt bitter at the inaction, but he wasn’t nearly as angry as he would’ve been a couple days ago. Maybe he was beginning to understand. They’re afraid, he thought, not just for themselves, but of loved ones.

In the end, could Arterius really blame them? They had no idea who he was. All they knew was that Jeskels claimed that he was a terrorist. And she’s right… in a way.

We were fools in Lancelos to think we could stand up against the Dynasty, he thought. Even dad was a fool. That realization was hard for him to swallow, but it seemed the truth. They were doomed to fall the moment the Copper Council had rejected the Dragons’ terms. We were brave fools. But fools nonetheless.

It was all useless, really. When the rain of fire were inevitable, maybe the best thing was to cut your losses and appreciate those that were going to burn beside you. Arterius glanced over at Craven. That was my mistake. I took my survival for granted--rotting in my own self-pity, he thought, flexing his fingers again and again. Not again. That’s the second promise to myself: I will not take what I have for granted.

“You ready, little man?” Jeskels said, leaning on her glaive.

She’d gone and put on her armor now--refusing to take any measures to make this more ‘fair’ for him. Her arms consisted of her glaive, a crossbow, and probably half a dozen knives hidden in her clothes. Arterius had a crossbow with one bolt. That was all.

To the side was the musician Jeskels had found. To Arterius’ surprise, it was another Kobold. One with black-scales and horns that curved around to run parallel with his head. He was dressed smartly: in thin slacks and a purple jacket whose collar reached up to his chin. The guy looked… drastically out of place. Who the hell is this guy?

I didn’t really matter, he supposed. The musician had a guitar and that’s all that Jeskels seemed to desire.

Arterius glanced over at Craven, who met his eyes, then finally back to Jeskels. He took a long breath. “Let’s get this over with.”

He stepped up to the gangway and chanced to look down. Just like before, all light was consumed far, far down. Jhunal is a big place, he thought_, who knows how deep this goes._ Maybe it went to the center of the planet. Who knew?

“Move it. You’re at the end of the gangway,” Jeskels said, sneering.

Arterius wanted to snap at her, but he swallowed the anger once again. Stepping out, the musician began to play. He started playing with low chords on his guitar, and it gave a mournful yet powerful feel to the otherwise silent air. The slow intro eventually rose into a faster, angrier melody, though. And--to Arterius’ chagrin--the player began to sing:

“My soul sold for a copper.

“My hearth cold as stone.

“They tell I’m best a pauper.

“I say, ‘my throne’s on loan.’”

It seemed to Arterius that the musician was so embittered and angry that he was practically spitting the words out. He was quite good, Arterius had to admit. The song gave him some reprieve as he stepped down the gangway over the maw. My legs are shaking, he thought. Was there another time in his life he’d ever been so scared?

Yes, there was, he thought, firmly. When Lancelos burned. He took another breath. But I won’t make the same mistake again.

“When the sky burns dawn,

“and the knees are bent,

“they say our homes’ all gone.

“I tell, ‘just wait for the end.’”

Whatever sickness or fatigue Arterius had been feeling melted away as he stepped to the edge of the gangway. His claw tapped a clod of mud at the end, and it teetered off and into the maw, falling into the darkness below.

Either focus or die.

He hefted the crossbow in his arms, ready to fire. The one, flat-tipped bolt loaded and cocked seemed to glow in the sunlight. One shot.

The gangway lurched as Jeskel’s weight stepped on. She beamed as if this was the happiest day of her life. Behind her, the crowd had fallen utterly silent--watching. Arterius caught Craven’s olive eyes for the briefest of moments.

“They say fire burns my friend.

“Well friends, coppers also spend.

“Just wait for the Reign of Fire’s end.

“The Reign of Fire’s end.”

The last lyrics of the song ended with a call to action, one that Arterius felt he didn’t deserve to take. And that was confirmed as the chords transitioned back to the melancholy it had started with--as if the musician knew Arterius would meet his end.

It all fell silent. From here on, the musician would pick up again when the fight truly began.

The air was hot and moist around them. Gods, this thing was breathing.

“On the count of three, you both turn and fight, got it?” The muscular deputy raised his voice so that the entire town could hear him. Jeskels nodded eagerly. Arterius hesitated and then followed suit.

badum badum badum badum badum

Jeskels turned her back towards him at the other end of the gangway. Arterius did the same, facing the drop beneath him. His grip tightened on his crossbow. One shot.

“One!”

badum badum badum badum badum

“Two!”

Arterius swiveled, not waiting for the third mark. Honor doesn’t keep you alive, he thought. Honor won’t keep Craven alive.

As he lifted his crossbow, however, he saw that Jeskels had turned as well, her own crossbow raised. Damn, Arterius thought. Looks like we’re both cheaters.

TWANG!

TWANG!

The bolt he’d spent the time to flatten soared past Jeskels, not getting even the least bit close to her. Her own bolt, however, hit the mark.

Arterius cried out, choking, as there was a sudden feeling of wrongness in his body. Looking down, a bolt stuck out from his gut. “H-heh…” Arterius stammered.

He fell to a knee, blood gushing from his body.

The world fell silent.

“No, angry man! Get up, angry man!” He could hear the girl’s voice somewhere in the crowd, a million… million miles away. Goddamn it… she came to watch.

Before him, Jeskels was laughing. She attached her crossbow to her hip and reached for the glaive strapped to her back, breaking it free. “Sir, you really are a fool,” Jeskels said, spinning her glaive theatrically. “You missed. Did you really challenge me to a duel without any martial training? What were you thinkin’?”

Arterius tried to speak, but he found that he only wanted to vomit. The musician was not playing as there was nothing to backtrack--the fight had been decided in that single split-second. I don’t want to die, Arterius found himself thinking. I don’t want to die. But what choice did he have in the matter? Things were more clear, now. He could see how horrible of a person he had been. Soil-Stuck had been right, the victimhood had been eating him alive.

He brought up his free hand to his muzzle as he coughed out spittle. His fingers came back crimson.

“You damn Kobolds always seem to think you can punch above your weight.” She stepped towards him, casting her glaive to the side and letting the blade shine in the rising sun. “Stay in the dirt where you belong.”

Arterius laughed, more blood hacking onto the shoddy planks. He’d inspected it earlier. The gangway was rather poorly made. “Didn’t…” he managed to get out.

“Huh?” She lifted his chin up with the tip of her glaive. “What are you trying to say? Spit it out. A man’s last words should be respectable.”

“Didn’t miss.”

Behind her there was a crash as Craven’s leg suddenly broke free from the ropes. One of the deputies ran over--the spindly one--to try and stop him, but he was just kicked back into the crowd by Craven’s hindleg. One by one, the entire network holding him down was snapping and loosening as if a great, hibernating beast was waking from an ancient slumber. The beast was angry.

He hadn’t hit Jeskels with a bolt, but he hadn’t missed either. Earlier when he’d inspected the ropes around Craven, he had found the best place to cut in order to free the Gryphon entirely--a tied knot near the back leg where the powerful thighs could be freed and push out. Looks like he hit the mark.

The plan was working! The very plan that had resulted in him getting shot.

“You motherfu-” Jeskels raised her glaive in the air to finish Arterius off but the entire gangway suddenly shook as Craven kicked the planks beside him, knocking Jeskels off balance midswing. It had the benefit of saving Arterius’ life, but it had also inadvertently knocked off the water barrels. They rolled off into the depths below, and the entire gangway lurched downwards, now only being held up by the fraying ropes tied to the nerahms.

Time to go!

He leapt through Jeskels’ legs as she stumbled towards the edge, ignoring the pain in his stomach and using his size to his advantage. Craven was nearly free now, but was tangling with the muscular deputy. A rope snapped, and the entire gangway lurched further down into the maw. It was like the worst see-saw Arterius could ever imagine.

You’ve always been a good climber, he thought, latching his claws into the planks and propelling himself up. So fucking climb!

He was nearly to the top now--to salvation--but as he leaped for the last inch he stopped midair--all his momentum leaving him. Jeskels had grabbed onto his tail!

“If I’m going down,” Jeskels said, sliding down towards death, “then you’re sure as shit coming with me.”

“N-no.” Arterius tried to pry himself away but gods was she strong. He looked for help anywhere--from Craven--but he was still occupied. He was simply too weak. “No!”

The last rope snapped. And he and Jeskels fell into oblivion.

---

In ten seconds he’d reached terminal velocity.

Jeskels still grappled him as they spun, hoisting him so they could continue the fight all the way down to their unknown doom. Their twisting, flailing forms made it so that their fall was not straight down. As Jeskels put her hands around his throat, the deafening wind caught them in a certain way and they careened into a wall. When Arterius tried to kick at her torso, they ended up slamming into the opposite side. Thankfully there were no ledges or abutments to break apart on and the walls themselves were not rough enough to produce much friction--they were too slick for that.

In the first few moments of the freefall Arterius had chanced to see Craven dive off the edge after him. Once the dark took them, though, it was impossible to know where Craven was. Arterius couldn’t even see Jeskels grappling with him either; he only knew she was there from her fists punching his chest and her claws making crimson lines across his scales. He felt more awake than he ever had before in his life, but he also felt more tired. Perhaps he had given up on his survival. Perhaps it was the bloodloss. He didn’t know.

Somehow, he knew Jeskels was screaming and cackling the whole way down. He couldn’t hear it over the wind, but he knew. She was a mad woman. More wrathful than any Dragon and more manipulative than any alchemist. He had counted on her pride and arrogance, and he had succeeded. Only for everything to fall.

In a frenzy of pushing arms and legs, a furred hand grabbed a hold of the bolt lodged in his gut and pulled it free, forcing a choked gasp--swallowed by the wind--out of Arterius as the reverse steel barbs tore through his body again--the wood grain splintering--and taking chunks of flesh and intestines with it. The movement sent them into the wall again. The throat, the esophagus, the maw--whatever it was--was steadily getting narrower.

Arterius’ weak hands reached up and grabbed ahold of another, more tangible maw going for his throat. His scaled fingers felt Jeskels’ rotten gums and her chipped fangs. With Jeskels pushing towards him, and him pulling away, they were doing cartwheels in the air.

In one flip he saw the light of the sun above him, another flip and he saw it again--closer. No, it can’t be the sun if I’m getting closer to it, Arterius realized with a start. At the bottom of this shaft there was… something. A light. A radiance unknown to the mortals who took from the creature beneath them.

Seeing that she couldn’t get at his throat, she began scratching at him again--ripping his scales apart in mottled swathes. She was feverish to kill him before they met whatever was below.

Arterius imagined Craven groping in the dark somewhere above them. He’d never find them pinging around like this.

I don’t want to die, his thoughts screamed again. I don’t want to die. It was a frivolous notion. Still, some internal will--a primal part of him--continued to fight.

With one hand he started reaching into his vest for something to use. Everything was wet and he didn’t know if it was from the creature’s internal fluids, his blood, or both. Of course, he had nothing. Only his damn notebook.

His body was breaking--shedding apart at the scales; tendons straining from exertion and fatigue; skin ungloved by razor claws. Jeskels was seeming confident now. All he’d landed on her were a few weak punches and some scratches to her face. Nothing substantial. As they spun, sliding off the walls into the thickening moisture and the stench of acid, rot, and sulphur, she grabbed ahold of his throat with one hand, stretching him out before her to perform the last, fatal blow before she met her demise; a warrior to the end.

Now! Arterius thought. With only the one hand holding him now, he stabbed into the thick tangle of tendons and veins at the wolf’s wrist with the only weapon he had left: his quill. It broke instantly on impact, of course. But it had been treated and cured to be firmer than a usual Gryphon’s feather, and the tip had been pointed in order to hold ink. It was enough to pierce the skin right beneath the carpal bones and wriggle between the tense worms inside.

Jeskels flinched, and it gave Arterius the microsecond he needed to put his legs against her chest and push out, breaking the stranglehold on him forever. He flew into the shadow, bounced off a slick wall, and disappeared into the black. The eighteen practice runs kicked in and he flattened his body out, catching the thick air on the flat of his lacerated torso. He had learned how to control his body.

His newly slowed body hit something hard on his back--something feathered. Craven.

Warm paws wrapped around him instinctually at their collision (something else they’d practiced) and Arterius could hear--could feel--the massive wings furl out. Each of the wingtips smacked against the sides of the flesh wall from their sheer breadth, but it was enough. In moments they were at a gliding speed, and soon after Craven was flapping upwards with strong beats--the thick sulphur in the air being whisked around like rivermist.

“I got you,” Craven said, hugging him tighter. “I got you.” Just like that, Craven had saved Arterius for the nineteenth time.

Now that the wind wasn’t in his ears he could hear Jeskels’ shrinking scream. What had been a call to battle had fallen into a pure, feral scream of terror. Beyond a tiny dot that was her silhouette was that strange light at the bottom of this organic tunnel. It had gotten much closer now, and he could see it clearly as he hung down from Craven’s paws. At first, he had mistaken it for the glow of the sun, but as he saw it now it wasn’t a passive glow. It was actively oscillating through different shades--sometimes a quick flash and sometimes a gradual shift, like a gradient. The colors were pure, sharp, and brilliant. He almost wanted to cry, looking at it. It was a beautiful thing; undulating (convulsing) through every color that had a name, and some that did not.

Arterius tensed suddenly. He did not want to know whatever was down there. His natural curiosity could rot for all he cared.

“Thank-” he began to say, but coughed mid-word. He was still in darkness so he did not know the color of his spittle, but he could imagine another vivid color dribbling from his mouth. Arterius’ body was feeling weak now, and he grabbed Craven’s digits for support. The feathers are soaking wet, he thought. Why are they so wet?

“Hold on, Arterius,” Craven said, flapping faster. “Please hold on.”

---

When the sunlight finally touched his scales again, Craven was screaming.

“AN ALCHEMIST!” He bellowed, thundering down to the ground. “I NEED AN ALCHEMIST. A DOCTOR. ANYONE!”

Craven set him down gently on the grass so that he could find help. Behind them, the maw quietly shut--the teeth clacking together--as if it knew they had just exited.

We can’t afford an alchemist, Arterius thought, feeling woozy. His hands were on his stomach, holding his innards in. Craven is being dumb… again.

The crowd was eerily silent as Craven ran around them in a circle, shouting repeatedly at them. “Are any of you alchemists? The guildhouse is right there so I know you’re in this crowd.” Still, no one moved.

“The deputies…” Arterius said, surprising himself with how weak his voice sounded. Craven didn’t hear him at first--still galloping around in a circle--and it was only when he circled back to Arterius and he repeated it that Craven heard the Kobold.

Craven skidded to halt. “Arterius…” The olive eyes met his own fool’s gold before Craven flicked his head towards the crowd. “They’re there.” Arterius followed his gaze to the two deputies on their bellies, hogtied, and loaded up onto the wagon that had transported Craven before. “Some of the Jhunaloc captured them. I wouldn’t have been able to go after you in time if they didn’t help.” Craven seemed perturbed by that, and he turned back to the crowd. “You helped me then, so why don’t you help me now?”

That doesn’t make any sense… Arterius thought. People are fools to fight back.

The crowd was silent for a long moment before a voice broke through--closer to the back. “Shut up, mah and dah!” The girl’s voice, Arterius thought. “Help him! He’s angry, but he’s not a bad guy. Just help him!”

Arterius couldn’t see the hare girl in the crowd, but he saw the crowd shifting to the side near the back--suggesting to him that she was being brought away by her parents. Good, Arterius thought. She doesn’t need to see this.

With the reminder of the girl, however, one of his hands hesitantly drew up to his head. His straw hat was gone--lost in the freefall with Jeskels. He didn’t know what to think of that.

“If we help you, what will happen to Mulberry Squall?” a voice said. Stepping out, it was a Changeling man he hadn’t seen before. Another rabbit, but not the same one from the store. His head was wider, the snout thinner, and the fur browner than the other. The man seemed a spokesperson as he bridged the gap of air that had formed between Gryphon, rider, and the rest of the town, set apart from the rest of them by his taller stature and the closed, black-buttoned jacket he wore.

Arterius felt a flash of anger despite his blood loss. I’m dying, he thought. Can’t you just fucking help? But still… after everything he had to admit it was a fair question. The Dynasty had a foul precedent with those who aided terrorists, especially ones of Arterius’ caliber. Aiding him could spell Mulberry’s Squall destruction. Turned to ash… just like Lancelos.

Craven bristled in rage, but before he could speak the evoked man took another step forward. “Is what the sheriff said true?”

“SHE WASN’T YOUR SHERIFF!” Craven roared, taking a threatening step forward. “She was a fraud! An outlaw. I saw her bounty and came here to collect, but I never would’ve guessed that this stupid town let her take some tyrannical position of power.”

“Maybe so,” the man said, somehow not taking offense, “but that doesn’t mean she was lying about him.” The man looked at Arterius with stern eyes. Is he looking at a wretch, a man, or a Kobold? Arterius couldn’t tell.

Craven looked down to the ground, every muscle in his body tensing. Arterius thought his beak may shatter from how hard he was gritting it. “AGH! Arterius did nothing wrong! All he was trying to do was protect his home. That’s all. And the Dynasty is punishing him for it!”

The crowd did not like that answer. Mumbles and grimaces reverberated through them like wobbling sheet metal. Close to the front, looking uncomfortable, was that Human woman that had helped him out in the store.

I can’t blame them, Arterius found himself thinking--surprising himself. If the Dynasty catches wind of this it’ll be their families that pay the price. In their position, I’d be looking after my own tail as well. And how could they trust me? Arterius almost laughed at his next thought. Gods, I destroyed one of their windmills.

Arterius decided what he was going to say, then. Though, he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. It feels right, he told himself. It just feels right.

The Kobold choked a bit on his blood--drawing pained grimaces and empathetic glances from the crowd--before getting his words out. “In… in my people’s fight against the Dynasty-”

Craven whirled on him. “Arterius! Don’t-”

Arterius had the strength to put his fingers up to silence Craven. I can speak for myself, you beautiful prick. Let me talk.

The crowd leaned in. Gods, it was so quiet that one would be able to hear the digging of a mole. Where had that musician gone to?

“...I killed one.”

The silence did not stop with those words, but they grew deeper. It was a smothering, honorific quiet--either the holy pause one gives the gods when they perform their miracles or the angered, terrified choking one gives when a devil cleaves its way up from hell and shows up on your doorstep. They didn’t know what to make of him. Was he a liar? If not, then wouldn’t it be best to turn him over?

It wasn’t the full story, but it was the core of the truth they wanted to hear. Arterius hadn’t pulled the trigger or swung the sword, but he had invented the weapon that did it. In the Dynasty’s eyes, that just made him even more dangerous. ‘Knowledge is everything.’ Another one of dad’s sayings… Oddly, the words weren’t feeling as smothering as they had before.

Dragons have been killed by the rabble that served them before. During the Conquest, the Coalition had killed a few in combat by forcing them to the ground and swarming. And since then, some Dragons have been killed through poisonings or through strategic assassinations in the night, but never like how Arterius had done it. There had been no swarming or plots that took years to plan. It was a tiny revolt in a stubborn little burrow that took a kin of the conqueror in one smooth motion. One weapon. One wick. One boom.

Craven tensed and moved to stand over Arterius in a defensive position, as if ready to fight or to grab the Kobold and flee. Arterius could see the fear in his olive eyes.

I’m just laying here, Arterius thought, his head feeling woozier and the tips of his fingers feeling numb. _I’m just laying here and doing nothing. _

Eventually, the rabbit stepped forward, putting a hand up cordially. Craven tensed still, his feathers puffing out in alarm. He almost growled as the man came up to the two of them and slowly went to a knee, meeting Arterius’ eye.

“A fairytale,” he said, glancing down at Arterius’ wounds. “I hear nothing but a boastful story, ser.”

Arterius smarted, but with a look at the man’s eyes he could tell they were stern. Firm. Despite his words the man believed him. Oh, Arterius thought. I understand now.

“His wounds are severe, but mendable with a proper surgery and the right potions. I have studies on Kobold physiology, though the books are dusty.” The rabbit glanced up at Craven. “I am this town’s alchemist but I’m with the guild. If I steal from the stores they will shut me down and I couldn't have that. What coin do you have to pay?”

Craven bawked--it taking him a few moments to realize what the rabbit was saying. “O-only a few coppers. Nothing more.” The Gryphon lowered his head, then, and took his voice to a whisper. “I appreciate your help but please don’t call Arterius a liar. He was telling the truth before.”

Gods, Craven! Arterius thought, almost laughing. Catch on!

The man closed his eyes, held it for a moment, then opened them. “I’m not sure what you refer to.”

Before Craven could continue the Human woman from before stepped out towards them, lifting her hand up with something shiny pinched between her fingers. “I have a few coppers I can spare!”

Arterius smarted. But before he can even react another voice called out. “Me as well!”

Another voice. Another. Whatever people could spare: a copper here, a copper there, and even the odd silver. One farmer grumbled about his windmill, but otherwise there were dozens of shouts to help pay the guild’s fees. Was this from the hatred of the Dynasty so prevalent in the world? Or was this from the cruel sheriff being deposed? Arterius did not know.

Why me? Arterius thought. Why me?

---

###

_ Epilogue _

The water was tepid around him--not comfortably warm nor refreshingly cool. Just tepid.

Arterius held his breath as he was completely submerged in the green river. A thick, horse-hair brush was in his hand and he was using it to scrub off any stubborn clumps of algae or the odd barnacle that stuck to the side of Bubba. Clipped to his new belt were a pair of tweezers (the size of tongs) that he’d use in case there were any leeches trying to get at Bubba as well. It was a long, gruelling job that made his legs and abs ache. Over the last month he’d learned how to swim, but he was still learning how to properly hold his breath. The others told him to breathe out every once in a while, but that didn’t make any sense to him. Weren’t you supposed to keep the air in?

Bubba was a hundred-foot long catfish that needed to be cared for. The care involved diving, swimming, brushing, surfacing--diving, swimming, and brushing again and again for hours alongside the entirety of Bubba’s scales. The easiest to clean was the top--he could practically stand on top of the catfish--but the hardest were the sides down by the tail. Bubba was a placid, domesticated creature. But even he was prone to the odd twitch. It was just that every twitch of the tail sent Arterius flying off into the brackish water like a messily thrown dart. He didn’t like that. The water was so thick with algae and mud that he could only see five feet ahead of him, and part of the job’s risk were the feral alligators that patrolled. Every time he was pushed away, Arterius was afraid it was going to be right into the jowls of a hungry gator.

It was annoying, tedious, and dangerous, but the pay was decent and it was discrete. Constantine didn’t ask questions of who he employed or what their history was. If you could work, then that was good enough for him.

After picking a barnacle off of Bubba’s scales with the tongs and scrubbing the residue off, Arterius was satisfied enough with his work to finally surface. The sun was a nice reprieve from the depths, but the humidity was not.

“Good riddance,” he mumbled to himself, feeling his muscles ache. Today had been a long day.

Fastening the brush to his side, Arterius began to wade back towards the flotilla. Bubba was connected to the square, tied-together logs of the raft by a bridle and thick ropes. There wasn’t much wind thanks to the overwhelming trees, and the thick water was difficult to paddle through, so they used Bubba instead of sails or oars. How Constantine controlled the fish so well was still a mystery to Arterius.

“Lo there, Terrille!” a voice called out to him from the deck. Arterius still wasn’t sure what ‘Terrille’ meant, but he figured it was somewhat similar to ‘landlubber,’ since the crew had begun calling him that ever since they learned he hadn’t known how to swim. “How is our favorite fishy friend doing today?”

The person speaking was Esix. He was a Kobold like Arterius--much of the crew was--but he wasn’t of Lancelos. They were locals. Esix looked like the rest of them--with wide fingers, a finned tail, streamlined bodies, and horns so snub-nosed he could hardly make them out. At first, it had made no sense to Arterius. Where was their ruggedness and rough fingers for mining? But eventually Arterius had realized that the Kobolds of Amalee were suited for the bayou, not for living underground like Arterius’ people had been.

Regardless, it was so very nice to be around other Kobolds again. He could feel comfortable in his scales here (and he could look them in the eye).

Esix himself was a deep, whirling green much akin to the swamp water around them. His fins were colored black, however; and that same shade was mottled across his stomach down to his inner thighs.

Arterius groaned annoyedly, but took Esix’s hand as he reached down to help hoist him onto the flotilla. “Do you mean me or the oversized fish?”

“Both are one in the same, no?” Esix said, grinning. “Nine times out of ten you give me an answer and it works for both. How is Bubba? Tired. How is Arterius? Tired.”

“I am tired,” Arterius grumbled. Like every time he surfaced from the stagnant river, he came out with a thick layer of ooze slicked down his scales. The rest of the crew made fun of his distaste of the slime, saying, ‘it comes with the job, Terrille!’ but he still hated it. It was icky. Where was the cave dust and flecks of metal from dad’s workshop? He’d much prefer that.

He picked at the slime, pinching it and unwrapping it off of him in thin sheets. At the same time he checked himself for leeches.

“Do you know when we’re getting back to Stekey?” Arterius said, hunching over to feel down the base of his tail for leeches. The motion stretched his muscles, popping the cartilage in his back satisfyingly. There weren’t any of the blood-sucking pests today. Thank the gods.

“When the stilters get back, I think. I don’t know. It’s up to Constantine.” Arterius could feel Esix’s eyes watching him, hungry, as he stretched. Arterius could guess the kind of hunger. “Do you need some help checking places you can’t reach?”

Arterius had laid with Esix a few times since he’d gotten this job. It was a bit difficult to not form close relationships on this vessel as it was close quarters and it’d go out for days at a time. The crew was forced to sleep together on their cots or in hammocks in the crowded bunkhouse, too. Though, some chose to sleep under the stars. Esix was one of those, and Arterius had joined him from time to time.

Well, to be fair, it wasn’t like fucking someone was an inevitable thing. But finding another male Kobold who was into men? That was a hard thing to find nowadays. They’d gotten together the first night Arterius worked here--as if drawn to each other by an unknown draw. Esix had volunteered to help Arterius learn how to swim, and some helpful, guiding hands had slowly--testingly--slid steadily downwards through the lesson. They did not fuck in the water, though. Risk getting my dick eaten off by an alligator? Arterius had thought. That’s a fat ‘no’ for me. Anyway, Esix was cute. He liked it when Arterius made him suck his finger and folded him back like a piece of paper. Gods, was that man flexible.

Arterius came up from his inspection, shaking his head. “Not right now, Esix. I’m not in the mood.”

Esix looked disappointed, but he didn’t voice any complaint. Their sex was a casual thing. Their relationship beyond the nigh-nonexistent. “Why have you been asking when we’re getting back? Have someone waiting for you, Terrille?”

Arterius grunted. He trusted these people, but it was best for everyone’s sake to keep his life a mystery. “I’m just expecting a package.”

“Arterius!” a thickly accented voice yelled from the door of the flotilla’s interior. “May we speak for a moment?”

It was Constantine. When Arterius had first signed up for this job he’d imagined the captain would be an evoked alligator with a peg leg and an eyepatch and who held a grudge with the biggest, meanest feral gator of all of Amalee. The truth was far from his imagination, however. Constantine was a Changeling, but he evoked a short, red-furred bat. Expensive spectacles topped his blunted nose and he wore quality overalls stained with grime. The sleeves were buttoned at the cuff, but were otherwise cut at the seam on the underside, making room for his leathery, vestigial wings. Like all Changelings who evoked flying creatures, however; the feature was impossible to use for flight. That was quite a shame, but what could you do? Changelings were a fey species by origin and the fey was chaotic and difficult to understand.

The crew said he came from Saint Riou--a port city and the largest of Amalee--and he seemed like it at first appearance with his nice attire, but he wasn’t as posh and proper as Arterius had expected. The slime didn’t bother him a bit, and he paid his Kobold workers a decent wage despite--legally--not needing to.

Arterius quickly nodded towards Esix and met Constantine halfway. “Allow me to apologize,” Constantine said, fixing his cuff. “We’d agreed to speak a month after you were hired and I missed the date. I believe it slipped my mind after the storm yesterday morning.” The storm hadn’t been terrible, but it had been unexpected and fast-coming, setting them back a day. The stilters had been caught out in it and it was a mad scramble to get them back to safety of the flotilla.

“Oh, it’s alright, sir.” He’d missed it by a day, Arterius thought. Honestly I’d forgotten as well.

Constantine motioned towards the stacks behind him. “Come with me?”

The stacks were the flotilla’s ‘interior.’ In a normal ship, it’d be called a deck, Arterius believed, but the flotilla wasn’t like a normal sailing ship. Instead of a hull of intricately made strip-planks and resin covers, it was simply a house built atop a house built atop a house. More shacks than anything, the architecture seemed quick and ramshackle at first glance, but they told a story. In the culture this flotilla crew was a part of (deep in the bayou separate from the coastal cities--called the Lejure, the Legure, the Lejurge… something like that), houses were built on stilts to get above water, and when new generations married into (or birthed) a new family they built new houses upwards--resulting in these ‘stacks.’ The stacks of the flotilla mimicked that practice and went three houses high, telling him that two generations had operated this before Constantine had inherited it.

Constantine’s home was the tallest, and the creaky staircase up to it went through the first home, punched through the second, arched around the exterior on stilts, and connected to the third. The whole structure swayed and it was a wonder to Arterius how it didn’t fall apart on the waves or in the storms. Must be sturdier than it looks.

The bat lived and worked here. The lowest house was for cargo, and the middle was for the crew. The wood was a rich, dark brown, and Arterius found himself looking at the texture closely on the off chance it was ‘fleshy’ looking.

“I’ve never been one to enjoy these employee evaluations,” Constantine said, leaning back on the front of his work desk--palms down behind him. “So let me just ask you: what are your honest thoughts about working here?”

Arterius smarted. What are you supposed to say in situations like these? Arterius thought. “Er, it’s good.”

Constantine nodded, swatting at a mosquito and fixing his glasses. “I understand it’s not easy being the runner--doing all the work no one else wants to do. But from what I’ve seen you’ve been taking it on quite well. You do a good job with it and you get along with the crew. Especially Esix.”

Arterius blushed slightly. “Sir, is that… is that a problem?”

“Huh? Oh, no. It is perfectly natural for relationships like that to form on a ship like this. The guild doesn’t like it, but they can’t argue with our profits.” Constantine leaned forward. “I spoke with Mulleu and she’s happy to train you in stilting during the slow winter season. I’d like to have you continue working with us and take up that role, but the decision is yours.”

When Arterius had taken this job a month ago it had been with the expectation that it was temporary. Constantine hadn’t liked that at first, but they’d eventually agreed on discussing it again after a month.

What do I want? Arterius thought. His mind went back to Mulberry Squall--where it often had during these last three months. During those events he had contemplated disappearing into the Dynasty’s depths. He thought it would come at the cost of abandoning himself--his name, his dignity, his identity--but now he was faced with the opportunity to melt away while still keeping himself. Sure, he didn’t like Amalee all that much, but he could manage. He wasn’t able to pursue his interests all that much either, but maybe he could in time. With steady pay and a place to sleep a lot more was possible.

“I’ll have to think about it, sir.”

“Oh yeah, of course! Sorry, did I come across as if I needed to know now?” Constantine waved a hand, smiling. “We’ll be heading back to Stekey soon. In a couple of days we’ll go back to scavenging after we’re unloaded and have the new supplies on. If you’d like to get back to me by then that’d be great.” Constantine paused, thinking for a moment. “Actually, if you would like more time you’re welcome to stick with us through our next run and come to a decision by the end of it. That’d be… a week, I believe? Weather permitting, of course. Would that work for you or would you prefer more?”

“Er, yeah. That’s perfect.”

“Exceptional! Then allow us to speak then. I’ll try not to forget this time.” Constantine glanced behind him at a pile of water-damaged ledgers stacked atop his desk. Some loose pages had fallen out and drifted to the floor from the flotilla’s natural wobble on the waves. Whatever he saw in those ledgers and papers annoyed him, making him groan audibly. “Before we go I need to bite into this guild paperwork. I will never understand it. They want us to fill out all these pointless things while they have no idea how a real flotilla runs.”

“Ah yes, sir. I will leave you to it.” Arterius headed for the door.

“We’ll talk soon… As long as I don’t pull out all my fur from boredom."

Arterius closed the door behind him and made his way down the chaotic stairs, his mind lost in thoughts. He hadn’t expected such an open invitation to work here.

The flotilla’s main deck was busy now with the return of the stilters. They were mostly Kobolds, and they walked through the thick bayou atop of tall stilts that kept them above the dangers of the water. From their overhead perches they--somehow--found bog iron in the muddy floor. The ore looked like spongey, red rocks at first glance--like any old stone--but for those who knew what to look for it was truly a rich deposit of smeltable iron. Esix explained it that they were formed by the natural chemical movements of the swamp, and Amalee was special with how pure the bog iron was and how quickly they formed (at a near supernatural-speed). Arterius wasn’t sure how they found it under the murky depths. It was a trade secret, much like Constantine's control over Bubba.

I could find out, Arterius thought--his natural curiosity taking control for a moment. I can stay here now… if that’s what I want to do.

The stilters slung thick leather bags over their shoulders filled with their haul, ready to store it, supply it to their seller, and transport it across the continent on the backs of Gryphons.

Thinking of Gryphons, Arterius’ hand drifted to his bare stomach and touched the scar there. With enough alchemy even scars could be healed, but the donations from Mulberry Squall had been just barely enough to keep Arterius alive. The alchemist had done his surgery, whipped up a potion, gave some pain medicine, and sent Arterius on his way with what he could afford to take from his guild’s stores. He and Craven had stayed in Mulberry Squall for only two days after Jeskels’ defeat before flying off to recover elsewhere. They hadn’t known if word had been sent to the Dynasty about their appearance or not, so Arterius had rested from his nasty cold and the surgery for a month straight in the wilderness, sheltering from the elements underneath Craven’s wing.

There wasn’t much damage left after the magical healing. Arterius had to shit more often now, but he could deal with that.

That was three months ago now, wasn’t it? he thought. One month of recovery, one month of running, and one month of this job. He wasn’t sure if he was feeling dread or nostalgia at the thought. He'd passed into his twentieth year somewhere during that span of time, though he wasn't sure exactly when. The days had blurred together.

What am I going to do now? His eyes flicked across the water and to the thick, light green mangroves that encroached over the sides of the river like fingers. A thousand insects flew between the lifted roots and murky shapes swam under the river’s murk and into the wetlands on either side. This place was oddly beautiful in its own way.

“Lo, Terrille!” Esix called from behind him. “What’d the boss say?”

I don’t really want to talk to you right now, Arterius thought--quickly admonishing himself. He should appreciate that someone cared to ask him in the first place. It was just… hard to break long-established habits. ‘Intentions are mute while actions speak.’

Arterius forced his natural scowl away and turned towards Esix, trying his best at a ‘not-annoyed’ expression. “He said that I could stay if I wanted.”

Esix’s bright yellow eyes lit up at that. “That’s great!” Esix threw his arm around Arterius once again, shaking him. These guys are so touchy-feely, Arterius thought. Sometimes he found himself missing his own peoples’ chastity laws despite their constrictions. In Lancelos people actually respected personal space at least.

With a breath, Arterius tried to not take the touch personally. “I may not take it.”

Esix laughed, as if that wasn’t even a possibility in his eyes. “Why wouldn’t you? Life on the water. Good pay. Better company. What else could you ask for?” Esix traced his fingers down the length of Arterius’ arm till he got to the palm and pulled it upwards to make Arterius look as if he was prospecting the green waters. “There’s so much of the Legeurjerouex you haven’t been able to see!”

The Legeurjerouex, Arterius thought. That’s what this specific region and culture of Amalee is called. How am I supposed to remember something that’s so hard to pronounce? Despite himself, his tail began to sway back and forth (barely) at Esix’s comment. “I am curious… I suppose.”

“What did Constantine say? Will he let you be trained or will you still be our runner?”

“He said something about training in the winter.”

Esix smiled, leaning against Arterius’ back harder. He could feel the shorter Kobold’s side against the base of his tail now. “Maybe you could run stilts with me, then.” The green Kobold was on morning duty and had already finished his shift for the day.

“I don’t know…”

“It’s not hard once you learn how. It’d be fun.” Steadily, Esix’s hand drew even further down, beginning to interlace with Arterius’ fingers.

Arterius broke away at that. “That’s a little bit too intimate for me, Esix.”

Esix’s eyes furrowed, looking a bit frustrated. “Can you really tell me that you’ll get a better deal somewhere else?”

It was a good point, Arterius had to admit. What other Kobolds in the Dynasty had such an opportunity? “Yeah, it’d be smart of me to stay here, wouldn’t it?” Despite the rationality of the statement, Arterius felt his ears droop downwards.

Esix’s eyes furrowed even more, noticing the droop. “Why are you so unsure? You’ll be hard-pressed to find a boss like Constantine again.”

Arterius bit his lip. Damn it ears! “I don’t know… What if Constantine changes or the guild replaces him with someone who doesn’t care?”

“What if the sun doesn’t rise tomorrow? You take what you can while you have it. That’s the way of the world!”

Still, Arterius’ ears did not rise. “It’s not that easy.”

“Sure it is! You keep looking outside of Amalee and into the past and future while you should be remaining here. Feel the sun on you. Hear the birds chirping. See the people around you.” He paused, smiling. “Keep your eyes where you are or you’ll miss what you have.”

Arterius was pulled to look back to the wilderness around them. This land was dense, wild, dangerous, and mysterious. What better place to occupy his curiosity? “Esix?” Arterius said, feeling oddly nervous. “How do you still appreciate Amalee's beauty after living here your entire life?”

The shorter Kobold seemed perplexed by the question, taking a moment to scratch the side of his head in thought. “With effort… I suppose. When you first see something the beauty is in your face, but when you’re with it for a while you have to look for it. It never went away, but you have to choose to appreciate it.”

Arterius bit his lip, his mind going to many other different people and places. “I don’t know if it’s possible for me to quit looking outside, Esix.”

Esix sighed, obviously only getting more and more annoyed with Arterius’ mood. Despite it, though, Esix moved closer to him. “I have an idea of something that may cheer you up.” He placed his hands flat on Arterius’ chest, putting his weight on him. The fingers were delicate, slick, and made Arterius’ nerves tingle in all the right ways. Esix cooed, and one digit began to drift downwards.

For a few fleeting seconds Arterius found himself leaning into the touch, but something came over him. He grabbed the hands and pushed them away. Firmly. “Esix!” he snapped. “I told you that I’m not in the mood.”

“Sorry,” Esix said, taking a step back as if ashamed. “I was trying to help.”

“Then maybe-” Arterius stopped himself. Gods, why are you still so angry all the time, Arterius? Aren’t you supposed to be working on that? “...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t raise my voice.”

“It’s alright,” Esix said. “I shouldn’t have been so forward.”

The two of them shared a glance and an awkward pause. Esix’s eyes seemed to scream ‘alright Arterius, what now?’

I’m asking myself the same question.

“Hey everyone!” Constantine’s voice yelled. Arterius, Esix, and the rest of the crew stopped what they were doing and looked up. The bat’s head was popped out of his high window above. “Ten minutes and I’ll get Bubba to start moving. If everyone can start making final checks and get ready that’d be exceptional.”

The crew murmured an affirmative and Constantine disappeared back inside. Arterius looked back down, meeting Esix’s eyes for a moment, before parting to do his part in the final prep.

---

Stekey was a wooden island in the middle of the wetlands. There was a true, honest-to-gods island at the core of it, but the vast majority of Stekey wasn’t soil or stone; instead, it was stilted houses and stacks connected by networking gangways and plank bridges. For a cheap fare one could hire a gondolier to take them underneath the town, pushing between the thousands of log pillars and support beams. Not many did that, though. There were probably as many stories about the underside of Stekey being haunted as there were tales about the Conquest.

Constantine’s flotilla connected to the stilted town at one of its many docks--side by side with other bog-iron flotillas of the same guild. Arterius left as soon as he was able. Esix asked after him, but Arterius had simply said that he was going to pick up his package.

Arterius did not take the gondolier. He had more money now, but still it was a precious thing to him. Better to walk than to spend even a little.

An evoked alligator stepped into Arterius on his journey to Stekey’s core, cursing at him. It was a small collision, but one with a much larger person like this was enough to send Arterius reeling before regaining himself. The man scowled at him, checked his coin purse, and went away.

The urge to fight--to give some retort--burned at Arterius, but he swallowed it. Best not to make a scene, he thought. Don’t forget: you’re still in the Dynasty.

Esix’s words ate at him as he walked through the town. There was some truth in them for sure: remain present in the moment. He’d learned the same thing (or at least part of the same thing) back in Mulberry Squall. His mind had been stuck in Lancelos to the point that he had pushed everyone away for the sake of his anger. The last months he’d spent trying to correct that course, but still he didn’t understand it fully. Say that Esix was right, would that mean that it’d be best for Arterius to forget about Lancelos all together? What about the city’s memory? What about dad’s? What about everyone who burned? It didn’t seem fair to forget it all just for the sake of feeling better. Yet... the memory had pushed him to anger against everyone around him. Was it really worth it?

Eventually the wood underfoot broke away to moistened dirt streets. Here was the core island of Stekey. Bigger buildings that required strong foundations were built here: administrative hubs, large warehouses, a beacon, and--of course--the rookery. Arterius stopped midstep before the building, feeling his breath begin to burn in his chest.

Whenever he looked at a rookery now he felt only shame. He was a fool to expect the Gryphons’ patronage before. Still, he thought, we should be allies, should we not? We’re both victims of the Dynasty.

‘Victims do not build’ a feminine voice echoed in his mind.

He’d been so caught up in being angry about his predicament that he had forgotten about everyone else around. About even Craven, who had fought alongside Lancelos despite not having any personal ties to the city. Shouldn’t that be even more respectable? Arterius thought. I was born in Lancelos. Really, if you think about it, I didn’t have much choice to fight. Craven had the choice and he made it.

Things have been… distant with the Gryphon since Mulberry Squall. They hadn’t talked about the promise about splitting apart, as if speaking it would force the issue. Things have changed, but changed into what? Arterius had no idea.

Arterius watched as a Gryphon he didn’t know laden with cargo flapped down to land on the rookery’s roof, stooping down through a large doorway to enter inside. Arterius hadn’t stepped foot inside of a rookery since Mulberry Squall as well. It felt wrong now.

‘Build something, and rise,’ the voice echoed.

The Gryphons built something. But what could Arterius build? Should he return to Lancelos and try to regroup the survivors? No, the Dynasty would learn of that soon enough and come to put a stop to it. Maybe Soil-Stuck hadn’t meant something purely physical. He could build a relationship with Esix, maybe? From his earlier behavior it was obvious that he was interested in deepening their relationship from just casual sex. He’s nice enough, Arterius thought, but he has no drive. How can I be with someone that’s so complacent?

Going further with that idea, however; the relationship didn’t necessarily need to be romantic in nature. Arterius didn’t want that anyways. Maybe something more friendly would suffice.

It felt like his head was burning with all of the thoughts. What am I going to do? What should I do? He almost wished for dad’s wisdom to bounce around in his mind again as it did before, but he’d been more quiet recently.

Hesitating, Arterius took a step towards the rookery then stopped. No… Not yet. Arterius took a step away from the rookery and glanced towards the market. I should get something first.

---

The Gryphon receptionist looked up as Arterius entered. His eyes furrowed a bit, and Arterius could tell the Gryphon was trying to tell if Arterius was going to be causing trouble or not. After all, what Kobold would be receiving mail?

“Hey, er…” Arterius began, walking up. “Is Craven here by chance? I was expecting to see him yesterday but the storm delayed me.”

The Gryphon raised a skeptical, feathery brow. “What business do you have?”

Just let me in already, Arterius thought, then he stifled it. They have a right to ask. It’s the same thing you’d do. “He’s a friend.”

“What’d you say your name was?”

The Kobold hesitated for a moment, glancing around to check if they were alone. “...Arterius.”

If the Gryphon knew that name he hid his reaction well. The receptionist didn’t ask any further questions before nodding respectfully and turning to push through the parlor doors towards the speakeasy. All rookeries had the same general layout, though they varied in size.

I feel like I’m a boy again, nervous about talking to other kids, Arterius thought. Why am I so nervous right now?

Arterius’ ears flipped upwards slightly. He could hear heavy, fast footfalls approaching from the parlor. Arterius smarted. Uh oh.

“ARTERIUS!” a distinctly familiar voice called from beyond the parlor doors, rapidly getting louder.

Instinctively Arterius prepared for Craven to crash through the doors and tackle him as he sometimes did. Thankfully, though, that didn’t happen. The white-feathered Gryphon burst out before slowing, seeing Arterius, and coming to meet him at a brisk jog. Not a full sprint, Arterius thought. Is Craven sick or something?

“You smell like a frog!” Craven bellowed, headbutting him once he finally bridged the gap between them. Arterius slid back a couple feet from the Gryphon’s momentum, but stayed upright.

Is he really going to give me shit? Arterius thought. I’ve been working for- “I do… don’t I?” Arterius ignored his thoughts and forced a meager laugh out of himself. It didn’t feel exactly genuine, but it was better than the alternative.

“YOU DO!” Craven knocked his head to the side, gesturing for Arterius to follow him. “Come on, let’s see if I can’t fix that.”

“Er, alright.” Arterius obeyed, still feeling strange about going back into the Gryphon speakeasy. He really messed up last time with the things he’d said. Was it really right for him to go back to such a significant place?

Craven had changed since the last time Arterius saw him. He’d gotten fresh, yellow dye in the tips of his feathers, making him look as if he had sunflowers in his ancestry. His feathers had gotten a bit thicker in his body’s preparation for the winter months as well (it was autumn now, though it didn’t feel like it down here). And… what was that? Arterius squinted his eyes at the Gryphon’s streamlined figure. Had Craven… put on a pound or two? It was hardly noticeable, and Arterius figured that Craven would always be thin because of his interests and lifestyle, but the extra weight was definitely there. Before, Craven was thin to the point of near-malnutrition. They didn’t eat much running from the Stormwardens, of course, but his appearance before had been mostly because of his constant need to keep running--keep moving--keep that heart pumping. Had Craven… slowed down?

Arterius scoffed. Such a thing was surely an impossibility.

The speakeasy quieted a bit as Arterius walked in, but a quick word from Craven calmed the room’s nerves. Arterius scanned the room for if he recognized anyone from that night in Mulberry Squall, but he wasn’t sure. Either way, some of them probably knew about what Arterius had said. The Giaruocuo talked. From what Arterius had seen it was their favorite thing to do.

“I saw Soil-Stuck again when I delivered a letter to Saint Riou,” Craven said, lying down on an array of comfortable rugs in the corner of the room. “Her husbands were with her, actually. They’re cool.”

Arterius blinked. “Husbands? Plural?”

“Yeah?” Craven raised his paw to ask for the waiter (as this wasn’t a real restaurant it was a volunteer). “Is that so strange?”

Even now I keep learning things about Craven and his people. By the gods… they’re polyamorous??? Arterius pinched the bridge between his eyes. Why does that make sense?

“You Kobolds and your strange beliefs about love and lust and such,” Craven said, smiling mischievously. “So constricting.”

“No… it’s not a Kobold thing,” Arterius corrected. “It’s a Lancelos thing.”

“Ah, right. Sorry.” Craven’s ear flicked at the correction.

It was an easy mistake to make--and Arterius had to admit he made it from time to time as well--but culture/ethnicity weren’t necessarily tied to species. There were multiple kinds of Kobolds that thought much differently than Arterius’ own people, such as the Kobolds of the Legerjoo… the Legeurjer… the… gods, whatever Esix had said. It was a lot easier to keep track of the differences with the Changelings since they changed in appearance so much, but with Humans--and Gryphons especially (as the Giaruocuo were the vast majority of them)--Arterius too sometimes generalized cultural practices to the species as a whole.

I’m still so ignorant about the world, Arterius thought. Was Lancelos really so isolated?

“Hey, Craven!” a short Gryphon said, walking over. “You wanted a drink?”

“Not today, actually,” Craven said, shooting a glance at Arterius. “What’s the sweetest thing you guys have here?”

“Not much. The food here is all fish and tart, but I’ll see what there is.” The volunteer waiter turned his attention to Arterius. “And you?”

“Er, I’m good for now.”

“Got it. Be back in a few.” The Gryphon walked away, pausing to chat with another group nearby.

Who would volunteer to be a waiter? Arterius thought, blinking. Then he leaned forward towards Craven. “Did she take the money?” Arterius said, refocusing the conversation back to Soil-Stuck.

Craven shook his head. “No. But I figured that.”

“Yeah…” After Arterius had lost the crossbow into Jhunal’s Maw (as he and Craven had taken to calling it--also sometimes ‘The Nefarious Flesh Tube’), Arterius had wanted to try and pay Soil-Stuck the damages. It had been a package she was delivering, after all, and crossbows aren’t cheap to make nor deliver. As the courier she was responsible to pay back any lost or damaged property, so the hope had been to help her pay back that debt. “What about Mulberry Squall? Any news?”

Craven’s ear flicked again. “A Dragon landed there a couple weeks ago and interrogated the town. No one there knew that we went down to Amalee, though, so we’re safe for now.”

“But they didn’t burn it down?”

Craven shook his head. “Left it a bit more scared, but intact.”

That was a relief to Arterius. He’d been having nightmares about that possibility, so maybe now he could actually get a full night of sleep. I doubt it, he thought.

It was inevitable that the Dynasty would catch wind of Arterius’ presence in Mulberry Squall. If not for the regular idle gossip, the two deputies would’ve talked to the officials that came to investigate the apparent sheriff’s death (disappearance?) and to take them away to be jailed properly. It wouldn’t have made sense for the Dynasty to burn down Mulberry Squall in anger--rebellious sentiment was already extremely prevalent across the Dynasty so there was no need to stoke it further--but the worry had still latched onto Arterius’ soul.

At the corner of his eye Arterius caught Craven staring hard at him. Could he tell how worried Arterius was about Mulberry Squall? Maybe. But that’d mean Craven was smart enough to-

Stop it. You promised yourself not to take what you have for granted. Don’t be so goddamn negative.

“And what about the Stormwarden movements? Have you learned anything about those?”

Craven grumbled a bit and leaned in closer to Arterius. “Are you going to ask about how I’ve been doing?”

Arterius almost breathed fire out of his nose. “I’ve been worrying about this stuff for weeks with nothing but a giant catfish to occupy my time. Just tell me what the hell has been going on. I need to know.”

Craven leaned back. Anger was in his eyes, but quickly something came over them and he looked away. “...I’m sorry. I… uh… I heard there was a contingent sent to Jumakot. It could be routine, but maybe they figure we went over there to collect the bounty? Or maybe they think we had a stronger connection to Jeskels than we actually had. I don’t know.”

Arterius took a breath and calmed himself. “Sorry I… I just… really needed to hear that.” He hesitated for a moment, feeling a weight in his chest eat away at his body’s core. “But I shouldn’t have raised my voice… again. I know I keep apologizing and keep doing it, but I’m trying. I don’t know if that means much… though.” I sound like a fool, Arterius thought. A blabbering, pathetic fool.

“Thank you,” Craven said, still keeping his eyes away. What had gone over them earlier? “But I need to apologize too. I shouldn’t have said that either… I think I’ve been really self-centered for a while now.” Craven laughed awkwardly, as if he couldn’t believe he’d really said that outloud. “I’ve been so caught up with being angry with you that I forgot that I’ve had a big part in our falling out as well. That isn’t fair… If you’re trying, then I should be too, right?”

“Seems fair to me,” Arterius said, tilting his head to get a better look at the white-feathered Gryphon. “Something’s different with you.”

Craven nodded, an odd, thoughtful look in his eye. “I didn’t want to tell you when you were recovering, but that day I spent captured by Jeskels was… really bad for me. I was tied up the entire time while she looked for you and figured out what to do with me. And me being alone with my thoughts? No adrenaline or alcohol to busy my mind? It was hell.”

“...I’m sorry.” What would’ve happened if Arterius hadn’t spent a day planning and sulking? Whatever he went through is on you, Arterius thought. And you didn’t even consider how him being captured could’ve affected him. How do you stop being a bad person when it was the only thing you knew?

“But… you know… I got out okay thanks to you. I ended up thinking about Lancelos… a lot… and I didn’t die from that. I’ve been thinking about it more actually.”

Arterius suddenly thought of Esix’s words. “Maybe it’s best to not think about it. Stay in the present. You shouldn’t have been forced to think about it so long… That’s on me.”

The olive eyes squinted towards Arterius. “The present is good, but I shouldn’t forget, Arterius. And neither should you.”

He’s right, Arterius thought. But what am I supposed to do now? “I have a really good opportunity. A job that’s fair and that’ll let me disappear safely.” Arterius swallowed hard. Why was it so hard to say these next few words? “So… er… I suppose it’s the opportunity for us to split ways.”

“...Huh.” Craven fell silent and looked off, as if watching the other chatting Gryphons to distract himself.

This is for the best, Arterius thought. This is what Craven wanted and it’s best for me to vanish for a bit. Best for everybody.

Eventually, Craven looked back at him with a furrowed eye. “You know, hating yourself isn’t a good look, Arterius.”

Arterius smarted. “What are you-”

“I know I’m right when I say that,” Craven interrupted. “You’re a man of extremes. I think now that you’ve realized you were being an extreme dick, you’ve started trying extremely hard to stop being one. It’s either one or one hundred with you. Never a cool fifty.”

For some reason, Arterius felt no anger towards Craven correcting him. He was right. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Craven. How am I supposed to run down the middle track?”

Craven shrugged. “Maybe Soil-Stuck had the right idea by getting you high.” When that answer wasn’t enough for Arterius, Craven pondered for a moment, more thoughtful. “If you’re honestly trying then that’s enough. Basing everything off of the output is never going to work… Hell, I fuck up all the time and I still like myself.” Craven grinned with a paw propping up his head self-satisfyingly.

‘Intentions are mute while actions speak,’ a voice echoed in his mind.

It was true that actions were all that people saw, but at the same time wouldn’t true intention feed into your actions? For the past few months Arterius had been solely focused on looking nice, but his inner thoughts have still been foul. He thought maybe that was just a part of the process of change--and maybe it still was--but it could be that he wasn’t trying to change the actual problem.

“You’re a good person, Arterius,” Craven said. He fidgeted a bit, his wings twitching. “I shouldn’t have called you a bad person before… That was wrong of me. If you were really a bad person then you simply wouldn’t have cared about me or Mulberry Squall--like Jeskels. But you cared. And you still care. I…” Craven looked away, ashamed. “I hurt you by saying that before… didn’t I?”

Arterius did not respond. His mind was simultaneously screaming and mute.

“Here’s what I think: if you try… and I try… then maybe we won’t hate it so much.”

Arterius blinked. “Hate what?”

“Traveling together.” Craven nudged Arterius with a paw. “We’re a team, you bastard. A dynamic duo. Craven and Arterius against the Dynasty! Against the world! Mount and rider blazing across the sky like the heroes of old!”

Despite himself, Arterius laughed. “Gods, you’re humble, aren’t you?”

“The humble-est.” The Gryphon smirked. “Besides, I still need to reach twenty. I’ve only saved your life nineteen times now.”

“You’re hoping that my life will be at risk again?”

“Yep.”

Crazy bird, Arterius thought. Snickering, he finally sat down beside Craven. For the last three months he’d felt as he did diving underneath Amalee’s water: a great, consuming weight pressed down atop him. But now--with a heavy exhale--the weight seemed to lift off him greatly. It did not leave him (maybe it never would), but it did lift.

At the corner of his eye, Arterius saw the volunteer waiter starting to walk over. He was balancing a pie atop his head.

“Can I buy you a drink, Craven?”

“If you’re paying, sure,” Craven said, eyes locked on the incoming pie. His beak was salivating. “All my money is going to pies.”

“Sure, buddy,” Arterius said, snickering again. “I’ll get us for tonight.”

---

“-and he had to jump in to wash it all off of him,” Arterius said, keeping his voice low. “Said afterwards that he was worried an alligator would catch the scent and try to eat him.”

Craven chuckled then yawned, his head low beside Arterius as if they were conspiring. The lanterns had been turned off in the speakeasy long ago, allowing only moonlight through the thin windows, and a quick glance told Arterius that they were the only ones still awake. They spoke in whispers as to not wake up the rest of the sleeping Gryphons around them.

“And when he climbed back onto the flotilla I helped him get all the slime off. Strangely that was really intimate as well, but by that time we were both just really tired and wanted to go to bed.” It’d taken some convincing, but Arterius was now sharing some stories that had formed around the sex he and Esix had been having the past month. It felt strangely freeing to share something so… ‘scandalous.’ Though, the insides of his ears still felt warm. It would’ve felt wrong to share if Esix hadn’t boasted the same stories to the crew.

“Before we go I should see Esix,” Craven said, a mischievous look in his eye. “Maybe he’d like to see what I can do?”

“That’s certainly possible. I guess that I could ask before we go.” Suddenly, Arterius realized something. Already he had stopped thinking about travelling with Craven as a maybe, and instead as a certainty. Was that the alcohol doing his thinking for him? But no, he and Craven had only had one drink each. It was some foul-tasting swill that neither of them really enjoyed.

A shadow loomed over Arterius suddenly as Craven’s wing outstretched, touching his back and pulling him slightly closer. “This has been a lot of fun, but I think maybe you and Esix had a good idea at the end of that story. Maybe we should sleep. I flew really far today, and it’s starting to catch up to me.” Craven yawned again, the massive beak closing shut with a SNAP a mere foot from Arterius’ head.

Arterius didn’t recoil from the yawn. In fact, he wasn’t scared at all. Craven was always careful with his size around Arterius despite using it to his advantage from time to time. He found himself leaning into the wing slightly, as if it was a thing of safety. They’d spent a month out in the wilderness with Craven caring for Arterius, after all. Why wouldn’t he trust him by now?

He’s right, Arterius thought. We should sleep. His own muscles were tired from the day of work before this, but he hadn’t wanted to move on to tomorrow just yet. Arterius had to tell Esix he was leaving in the morning and it was not a conversation that he was looking forward to.

Craven’s words from before sparked a memory to Arterius. Something forgotten flashed in his mind and he reached into his vest. “Hey, you talking about flying reminded me of something. I, er… I got something for you.”

A ceramic jar of paste was procured from his vest. Like the jar of muscle-cream he’d bought in Mulberry Squall (which had been lost somewhere in the chaos), this one was also locally made (he’d gotten it in the markets earlier). This one smelled much fouler, though. “It’s some muscle cream. It’s bigger than the last one so it’ll last longer, and I can put it on for you. I… er…” Arterius hesitated for a moment. Is he going to think I’m doing this to get on his good side like I did last time? Arterius thought. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten the same thing.

Suddenly Craven’s eyes furrowed, angry. “Ah, damn it!”

Some of the nearby Gryphons stirred, and Arterius felt a tinge of fear in his chest. He is thinking that, isn’t he? I’m not doing this to sleep here tonight, I swear. But how would he-

“I was going to get you something too,” Craven continued, “but special-tailored hats are damn expensive. And far! There’s nowhere nearby that does it. Maybe if I was a bit quicker I would’ve had something to give you too.”

Arterius blinked. “...Hats?”

“Yeah. I was going to try and get you your hat back. I know how important it was to you…” Craven looked down, defeated. “...Sorry it got eaten by a mysterious flesh pit.”

Arterius took a breath for a long, long time. “Take the goddamn cream, Craven,” he said, pushing the jar into his paw. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Huh?” Craven took the jar but looked puzzled. “How did I scare you?”

“By making me think-” Arterius took a breath, calming himself down. “It’s nothing. I had just gotten worried.”

“Sorry,” Craven said, obviously still not fully understanding. “But…” He pushed his question again. “How did I make you worry?”

Arterius fought against the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I thought you were thinking that I was trying to manipulate you again.”

“...Oh.” Craven hefted the jar in his paw. “Well, don’t worry about that. I can tell when you are or not. I’m observant like that.”

He is pretty observant, Arterius thought, admitting it to himself. “I'm sorry for snapping.”

Craven nudged him with a wing, smiling. “Hey, we’re both trying, right?”

“Heh, I guess so.” Man, this all sounds so cringey, Arterius thought. But yet again… I feel better hearing the words despite their cheesiness.

“I’ll get you your hat back sometime soon. But in terms of the cream, would you like to put it on now?”

Arterius smarted. He glanced around at all the sleeping Gryphons around them. “Should we?”

“You said it’s best to do it before the aches set in, right?”

This can get intimate very quickly, Arterius realized. For the past however long Arterius had been sharing stories about intimacy (enough that he had gotten partially excited at the memories) and Craven had that mischievous look in his eye. In Mulberry Squall they had contempt and alcohol to hold them back, but now? How good would it feel for Craven to--essentially--receive a massage? Probably really good.

And there’s all these people around us, Arterius thought. They’re all sleeping, sure. But one loud moan and the people closest to us would- The thought actually made his heart beat a little faster. Gods… was he excited at the idea? He hadn’t known that about himself.

“...Yeah…” Arterius said, sharing a knowing look with Craven. “Best to do it now. But cooperate with me, alright? It’s hard for me to do with your wings in weird places.”

Craven’s olive eyes turned sultry. “Of course. I’m happy to--as you say--cooperate.” He repositioned himself so that he was laying on his stomach directly--not partially on his side as he was--and stretched his wings out. They threatened to touch the other Gryphons around them, but Craven kept them just barely inside the little bubble of space they had in the corner.

Swallowing, Arterius stood. Man, this escalated fast. Craven handed him the jar back and Arterius popped it open by untying the twine-bound lid and unfastening it. No, Arterius, he thought. Your mind is just jumping to intimacy because you’ve been talking about it for so long. That’s all. There’s nothing intimately sexual about putting some ointment on another guy’s skin.

Close to the phalanx of the wing Arterius was able to stand on the rugs and begin his work. He could feel the bone here, and the skin was easy to get to with the larger primary feathers. Most of the work would be in the shoulders where the strongest muscles of the wings were held.

Arterius glanced at Craven and the surrounding Gryphons nervously. Craven seemed idle, but his feathers were beginning to ruffle in happy ripples down his wing. Arterius liked how that looked.

After getting the first joint, working on the ground was no longer viable. He could get the front end, but the skin and the muscles underneath were girthier here--thick enough that he couldn’t reach up and around from his short stature. Craven saw this and dipped himself down, giving Arterius enough room to climb on.

This isn’t innately sexual, Arterius thought, climbing onto Craven’s wing. You’ve rode his back thousands of times. This is nothing different. But as Arterius found a comfortable position--straddling what would be the forearm and moving upwards--he could feel the energy in the air. Craven had his head lying on its side against the rugs, idly watching Arterius work with interest. The Gryphon didn’t make any sounds of pleasure (yet), but from the relaxed, wanting expression painted across his face, Arterius could tell he was enjoying every moment of this in a… deeper sort of way. Arterius would take a tiny amount of the muscle relaxant on his fingers, dig in between the quills, and work it into the skin with his fingertips. From his own fingers he knew that whenever the relaxant was applied it came with an unobtrusive and pleasant tingling sensation. Inch by inch, he repeated the process. Arterius could only imagine how good it felt.

“Mmmm,” Craven finally groaned as Arterius got to the shoulder muscles now. The Kobold’s ears canted up and he listened for anyone stirring, but no one did. His heart was beating faster now. Having to stay quiet was exciting, and he could feel his own arousal start to bloom deep in his slit.

The muscles here were massive and well defined underneath the feathers. These had carried Craven and Arterius for hundreds and hundreds of miles across Solaron now, and as such they should be well taken care of. Arterius took some extra time to make sure every taut tendon was touched and massaged until he could feel it relax under his fingers. Craven groaned more, now, though he kept his beak firmly shut as to muffle it.

It became a kind of game after a time. Rub down the muscles here, and Craven’s feathers would twitch and ripple down his body. Here, and he would groan and stretch. The feathers were smaller here, meaning that he was forced to give more care to every inch.

I’m really enjoying this, Arterius thought after some time. Damn it, but I really am.

He was atop Craven now, still on the shoulder but working up to the spine where both wings connected. The feathers got slightly longer at the spine, and flared up with Craven’s sensations. Arterius reached down and ran a finger down a path through the quills, marking the space where the shoulder muscles connect to those of the lower neck. It drove Craven wild, and Arterius could hear him grip the rug underneath with a claw.

Arterius wanted to say something teasingly to Craven--maybe even play with him a little more--but he stopped himself. You’re not alone, Arterius. That thought was still tantalizing him, though it still made him horribly anxious. Desire was often wrapped up in what you couldn’t have, and Arterius couldn’t help but appreciate that notion as continued. I enjoy making him feel good, he thought. It came as a realization to himself. So often he’d taken sex with Craven as a means to an end, but now he was doing it for the sake of pleasing him. And I’m doing it in a room full of people… I never would have done this a year ago.

No, Arterius thought, stubbornly. This isn’t sex. This is just a damn massage. Nothing more. As he moved on to the right wing now, Arterius looked up from Craven’s back to remind himself of where he was.

There were sleeping Gryphons all around, and none of them had woken. But one in particular caught Arterius’ view: directly in his eyeline. A male Gryphon was sleeping on his back, one back leg resting on the ground and the other cocked in the air. Arterius was suddenly reminded that the Giaruocuo were all nudists. There were the supple orbs hanging down between the hind legs, the lower one just above the inner thigh against the ground and the other hanging off the side, askew as it hung naturally. And there above it was the firm sheath, slumbering like its carrier. Arterius began to imagine the arousal that was inside. The same arousal that Craven-

Arterius averted his eyes back down to his work. He didn’t know the man, so it felt odd to ogle, but the sight sent his own shaft peaking from his inner folds regardless. It’s been too long since he’d seen Craven exposed like that. Maybe tonight they could…

Craven groaned again as Arterius got to the bulging flesh that made the first joint of the right wing. The tendons flexed underneath Arterius’ fingers, and the Gryphon’s entire body shivered. Glancing to the side, Arterius saw Craven’s hips slowly rocking back and forth, back and forth. He’s rubbing himself against the ground, isn’t he? The image sent Arterius wild, and his shaft peaked out more. I want to be there. I want to feel it in my hands again.

He went back to his earlier strategy of straddling the muscles of the wing as he went down the right ‘arm’, but this time he lowered his groin lower, allowing his arousal to rub against Craven’s wings, only blocked by Arterius’ patched trousers. He copied what Craven was doing: rubbing himself. It felt good. It felt right.

Craven cooed again and Arterius glanced towards the head. Now that he was down the right wing he was able to see the Gryphon’s face once again, and it was incredible. Craven’s head was huffing against the ground, only one eye open as they met. His arousal, his lust, his need was blatantly apparent on his face. Arterius imagined he looked similar.

Gods, I want him. With another grind, his body affirmed that thought. I want him badly.

He was finishing with the ointment now, and he was preparing to climb off Craven’s wing to finish it. Arterius’ eyes glanced over the sleeping Gryphons around them one more time, however. No, we can’t, Arterius thought. It’ll never work without waking them. Craven will yell or scream or something. Remember how he was last time?

With only the ‘hand’ of the wing to do, Arterius slung his legs down to stand on the ground once again. He couldn’t straddle that far--the feathers wouldn’t hold him up there--so he returned to standing once again and reached into the jar to finish the job.

The wing was pulled back before Arterius could even reach in between the quills. Arterius turned, confused, but understood as he saw Craven quickly rotate onto his belly and move towards Arterius.

“Craven, we-”

He was interrupted as Craven seized him with a paw around the Kobold’s back, drawing him closer. The next second the Gryphon’s beak clamped around Arterius’ neck, the sharp bend at the end of the beak clamping reaching around the nape. Arterius gasped, instinctively leaning into it. Thick, warm saliva began dripping down his neck--his front. And the strong tongue sent tingles across Arterius’ scales. From an outside viewer it may seem like Craven was beginning to eat the Kobold. To Craven, it was his best effort at a ‘kiss.’

Despite not wanting to make noise, Arterius found himself exhaling a moan at the sudden touch. His built up need only got worse, and his arousal fully slipped free, bulging uncomfortably against his trousers. He didn’t tend to it just yet, however. Instead he reached up to grab a hold of the beak's keratin exterior, leaning into the tonguing. I want more, Arterius found himself thinking. I wonder how much of me could fit in his beak. Would this warmth- He stopped himself. That was also a thought he’d never had before. Gods, he was learning a lot about himself tonight, wasn’t he? Had falling into Jhunal’s Maw awakened something in him?

Craven did not bite down nor take more of Arterius in. Despite his apparent need he was still gentle with the smaller Kobold, pulling back after a moment and pushing his head against Arterius. The feathered face and the massive, olive eyes filled up Arterius’ entire view.

“I need you,” Craven whispered, leaning in a bit further. “Let me have you.”

Arterius swallowed. He could still feel the moisture of Craven’s tongue dripping off across his neck and shoulders. Arterius opened his mouth to answer, but something pulled him back. His eyes were drawn to the rest of the speakeasy. “What about them?”

Craven shook his head insistently. “I don’t care. They don’t care. Sex happens all the time here. You know that my people aren’t prudes about it.” The paw that wrapped around Arterius’ entire torso--thumb pressed against his stomach--glided downwards. Craven was not slow to tease as Arterius had. The thumb wasted no time pressing against Arterius’ arousal through the fabric, and one of the digits (what would be the pinkie, though it was massive) in the back disconnected the tail strap with a dextrous claw and reached inside the pants. Arterius groaned again at the touch. His tail was being gently squeezed at the base by two of the digits--one above and one below.

Arterius grabbed a hold of Craven’s beak, firmly. “I know, but I don’t want to wake them up.”

“I don’t care,” Craven said, squeezing harder, pressing harder--his breath hard against Arterius’ torso.

I want him, Arterius thought. “I…” He swallowed. “I’m not ready for that.” It had been a lot for Arterius to speak openly about his earlier (private) sex with Esix. It was impossible for him to have open-air sex in a room of people he didn’t know. That was too much, too fast.

Craven seemed frustrated at first, but his eyes softened as reason took over his primal lust. “I understand.” He started to back away, but Arterius did not let go of the beak. Craven smarted, looking confused.

“M-maybe if we do it quietly,” Arterius began, not really sure what he was saying, “then I could do it.”

“How?” Craven said, his excitement returning.

“If you’re careful not to crush me,” Arterius said, his eyes tracing down Craven’s body, “then maybe I could be underneath you. Your wings, thighs, and tail would hide me. To everybody else it’d just look like you’re lying down strangely.”

Craven nodded, liking the plan. He’d probably like any plan as long as it meant continuing. “What about the noise? I don’t exactly stay quiet.”

That was another problem they had to contend with. There was really only one answer for it, though. Gently, Arterius stroked the massive beak. “I trust you to stay quiet. That’s enough for me.”

Craven’s eyes went wide for a moment, shocked, then turned determined. He nodded. “I can do that for you, Arterius. I promise.”

Somewhere in the back of Arterius’ mind he still did not trust the Gryphon to be silent. The same one who screamed when he had pre? The same one that roars when he climaxes? No way. Yet, Craven had saved his life nineteen times. If Arterius could trust him in that, then he should be able to trust him in this.

Gods, Arterius thought, I’ve locked myself into this, haven’t I?

Watching Craven part from him and find a comfy spot amongst the rugs, Arterius felt the anxiety pound in his chest. There was the excitement mixed with it for sure, but the anxiety was strong and nearly overpowering.

Can I really do this? he thought, taking another glance around him. There was no real danger to this. Rationally, he knew Craven’s words about the Giaruocuo not caring was true, but the values of Lancelos were still heavy on his mind. However, seeing Craven raise his hips in a not-at-all sexy way and his dumb, proud, and excited face as he did so pushed Arterius forward. Gods I want him. Craven still angered him for sure, but he wasn’t nearly as annoying as before. He’d learned his own lesson, and was understanding as Arterius tried to live out his own. Gods I want him bad.

Taking another uneasy glance around, Arterius quickly undressed. His vest came off first, and he gently placed his journal atop it (by some miracle it had stayed attached as he’d fallen into Jhunal’s Maw) and then came his trousers and the undergarments in one quick motion. And just like that he was naked inside the room. Naked just like everyone else, sure, but it was different for him.

His arousal throbbed in the air at full length. It was a rigid, sleek shaft that tapered at its end similar to Craven’s. It lacked the knot however, which was a shame.

“Ooooo,” Craven cooed, keeping his voice low. “Look who came out. It’s the tiny monster.”

Arterius felt his ears turn red at that. “Shut up, Craven.” Arterius’ length was actually rather large for a Kobold, but of course it was nothing when compared to Craven. Or any Gryphon for that matter.

Craven chuckled to himself, but didn’t voice any more teases. He was too excited.

This is probably getting his heart racing, Arterius thought, tracing his hands down Craven’s side as he walked down the length. Maybe he’s less into adrenaline-seeking as he was, but it still must excite him to some degree.

Craven’s feathered tail lifted as Arterius reached the Gryphon’s backside. There were the fuzzy testes hanging low in Amalee’s heat, and the pink shaft throbbing in the air. Arterius couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight. To his surprise, however; Craven’s arousal hadn’t fully slipped free from the sheathe yet. He’d expected with the grinding that it’d be full mast, but instead it was only halfway revealed--hanging down from its weight.

Maybe he was holding himself back, Arterius thought.

“I’ll tap you if I have trouble, alright?” Arterius said, taking a step towards Craven. He hummed an affirmative, but didn’t respond otherwise other than to lift his hips slightly higher.

Thick musk filled Arterius’ snout like syrup now, and as he reached forward to take one of the orbs in hand it only grew stronger. He didn’t take it hostage as he had before. He ran his hands gently around it, feeling the feathers ripple under his touch. With both hands he couldn’t cup a single one in its entirety. Craven shivered at the touch.

Alright, Arterius thought. Time for the main show, I suppose.

Feeling a bit awkward, Arterius ducked underneath until he was firmly underneath Craven’s body, in the tapered bit before the ribs stuck out for the lungs and the heart. The sheathe and the arousal thrummed their heat, filling the space. To the sides, Craven lowered his wings and tail, making the space even more confined.

I don’t like small spaces, Arterius suddenly remembered. He wasn’t feeling anxious here, though. Craven was safe--Arterius trusted him.

Arterius lowered himself down and tugged Craven with him, moving slowly. First, Arterius stooped, then he crouched, then he knelt, and then he was beginning to lay on his back. The scent overwhelmed Arterius. It was like a thick soup in the air that he had to swallow with each breath. The heat was nigh-unbearable as well. It was a sauna of musk and sweat. Gods, this is amazing.

With the final distance Craven lowered himself fully. The testes laid down from Arterius’ ankles to his knees, the sheath bristled against his arousal and groin with its delicate feathers, and the shaft stuck to the scales of his stomach, wedged between Craven’s underbelly and Arterius. Above, Craven shivered from head to tail and Arterius could feel the arousal slip further down his torso. It looked amazing sliding forward towards his head--the tiny bit of moonlight and Arterius’ cavern-trained eyes allowing him to see it.

The feathers against his own arousal felt amazing, but he didn’t care to start with himself. Above, he could hear--could feel--Craven’s heart beating through his body.

badum badum badum badum badum

Arterius took a moment to feel the feathers around him. His underbelly was sensitive here, the feathers soft and well taken care of. In his immediate vicinity they were drenched with sweat, but that was okay. Arterius pushed his fingers in, getting past the quills and to the skin as he’d done with the cream, to get an even better feel of Craven’s pulse.

The Gryphon shivered in response, and his arousal slipped even further down towards Arterius’ head. Already it was near his clavicle. At full length it’d be as long as Arterius’ arm.

Arterius could feel Craven’s pulse down in his own arousal, he realized. With the blood pumping hard through the shaft, Arterius could feel the continuous beat reverberating through the sheath. His slit stirred, hungry, and the arousal flexed hard against the sheath’s exterior.

badum badum badum badum badum

Gods, I want you, Arterius thought. He’d almost forgotten that he was in the rookery now. All there was was Craven. And that’s all that mattered.

His fingers flexed, itching to touch the shaft slick against his torso. Once I start this I won’t want to stop. Craven had been right earlier. Arterius was a man of extremes. So if he wanted to stop this, he’d have to call this off now. Once he started he would finish it. That’s just how Arterius was.

Thinking it over, Arterius reached for Craven’s tip.

At the briefest of touches Craven shook--Arterius’ entire existence shaking in the process. Craven did not scream as he had in Mulberry Squall, but he still stifled a moan through a clenched beak as he shot a load of pre. To Arterius, it was more than one of his own climaxes. It jetted across his face, dripping down his neck and pooling on the rug underneath. Arterius quickly licked his lips and swallowed what he could. There would be much more where that came from.

The massive hips above Arterius began to rock forwards and back, the thick testes dragging across his legs and the shaft grinding against his body. Craven held himself back--careful not to crush Arterius--but the need was thick.

Arterius felt the rug underneath him depress slightly under Craven’s grinding. Below was firm stone. And to the outside world, Craven was simply moving his hips slightly.

I want this to last, Arterius thought, moving his fingers further down from the tip. Unlike the balls, he could get his fingers around the girth if he used both hands. He began stroking down it slowly, in time with Craven’s own desperate, careful thrusts.

The grinding had an effect that Arterius hadn’t expected. With the shaft growing--the sheath wobbling slightly as it gently thrusted forwards and back--it also rubbed hard against Arterius’ own desire. In a way, they were frotting against one another.

The feathers felt amazing, but Arterius inched forward ever so slightly so that his shaft was past the lip of the sheath and against the slick, sweat-covered meat of Craven’s arousal. The sheer weight and slickness drove Arterius over an edge, and some of his own pre dribbled out, quickly becoming more lubricant on the shaft firm above it. It wasn’t nearly as much as Craven’s, but Arterius allowed himself a small, muffled moan as it was released. Would anyone be able to hear me down here anyways? he thought. Maybe I can moan and whine as much as I want. After thinking for a moment, though, Arterius decided against it. Better to be safe.

Arterius’ hands clenched as he continued, his own pleasure building rapidly. Above, Craven started grinding a tad harder--testing the limits. The sheath was bulging with the knot now against Arterius’ thighs, ready to come free fully.

One grind tapped Arterius’ snout, and a new idea popped in his mind. He rested his head on his chest and opened his maw, allowing his rough-slick tongue to reach out for the tip. With the next grind, the tongue circled around the urethra, making the incessant drum beat skip once.

With the tongue Craven instinctively thrusted forward--heading towards the wetness, the warmth--and the massive shaft momentarily pried apart Arterius’ maw, the tip tapping the back of his throat. Still, the Gryphon did not scream a moan.

Immediately after Craven pulled back, realizing the instinctual thrust may have hurt the comparatively tiny Kobold, and Arterius quickly rubbed the feathers above him to signal that he was alright. I’m more than alright, Arterius thought, feeling more pre dribble from his erection. I want that. I need that. It had hurt his jaw but it was manageable.

Arterius continued rubbing down the shaft. Up and down, up and down. He went slow, kneading the pleasure out from Craven. On Arterius’ thighs he could feel the knot bulging harder against the sheath, moments from slipping free.

I want that, Arterius thought. Slowly, he pulled Craven forward once again until the tapered tip was just before his muzzle. He kissed it gently before lulling his tongue to suckle the tip and circle the sensitive urethra. Craven held himself back from thrusting (which Arterius could tell was a massive effort), but the ground shook slightly as Craven dug his claws into one of the rugs underneath him, desperate.

“Hey, Craven. You alright?” a voice suddenly said--muffled to Arterius from the mass of Craven around him.

Arterius froze immediately, his tongue still pressed against the pinkish flesh. Craven froze too, though he didn’t have the advantage of having something to hide him. The Gryphon was out in the open with the world to see him--he had to save face.

“Did you hear me?”

“Hey! Yeah, sorry man, just… uh… had a bad nightmare.”

“Is that why you’re sweating so much?”

Craven clicked his beak a few times nervously. “...Yep!”

Anxiety thrummed through Arterius’ body, but there was still that odd excitement. This guy has no idea I’m here, Arterius thought. Sex hadn’t been so exciting for a long, long while. I want to do this again, he found himself thinking. You know… my tongue is still right here…

“Are you sure that you’re alright? It doesn’t really look like a nightmare.”

“I have weird nightmares, yeah.” Craven paused, clicking his beak nervously a few more times. “Um, your name is Credulous, right?”

“Yeah it is. I just woke up to take a piss. But do you want to talk about the dream or something?”

Gently, Arterius circled his tongue around the tip. The unexpected touch made Craven shudder, and a tiny squeal escaped out his beak. “No! No, I’m alright.” Craven huffed. “I just need a second to calm down.”

“Alright, no problem.” The unknown Gryphon paused for a moment, and Arterius could feel his light pawpads shaking the ground ever-so-slightly. “Where’s your Kobold friend?”

Arterius smiled broadly. This is so perfect! “Oh, Arterius? I have no idea. I bet he went to take a piss. Or maybe he went to take a walk, sometimes he does that. He needs to think about himself sometimes,” Craven grinded himself on Arterius a bit more roughly than the other times, pushing the contention in, “else he’ll be an absolute asshole.”

“Uh… alright? Well I guess I’ll see you.” The light pawpads started walking away.

“See you, Credulous! Take your time pissing.” After a pause where Craven made sure the Gryphon was gone, Craven tapped a paw on the ground, annoyed. “You’re a real bastard, Arterius, you know that?”

Arterius actually laughed. Gods, he was having the time of his life down here.

It was time to bring them back into business, however, and Arterius did so by dragging his tongue across the tip once again. It shut Craven up, evaporating his annoyance, and a low moan escaped the Gryphon. I’ll allow you that one, Arterius thought, since I pulled my little trick.

His hands were steadily moving up and down, up and down, and Arterius could sense that Craven was beginning to get close. The knot slipped free now, pressing hard against Arterius’ own arousal, and now it was only a matter of going past the final threshold.

Could I time this? Arterius thought, thrusting himself upwards onto Craven’s knot. The move sent ecstasy coursing through his body in a quivering ripple. Maybe I could get ourselves to finish together.

Craven was grinding harder now, pushing Arterius hard into the floor. It wasn’t to the point yet where Arterius was concerned, but it was hard. The shaft was slick with sweat and saliva now, and the friction between Arterius’ body and the feathery underbelly must feel amazing to Craven. It certainly felt incredible to Arterius.

I want you, Arterius thought, frotting himself harder and tonguing faster. Give it to me.

The shaft was at full length now, and it being so long meant that with each grind it never properly escaped his muzzle. When it pulled back, it was just barely inside his lips. And when it thrust forwards, it pried his muzzle apart so the tapered end tapped the back of his throat. For a fleeing moment Arterius wondered if he could take it even deeper, but their position was not good for that.

The knot was swelling now, and Arterius could tell it was about time.

badum badum badum badum badum

Arterius found himself moaning as the grinding got even harder--faster. He brought one of his hands from the slick shaft to his own, getting himself hard and fast to hopefully catch up to where Craven was.

“Arterius…” Craven said, keeping his voice so low it was hardly audible. “I’m about there.”

Arterius clamped his thighs around the knot now, letting Craven rub hard against it--simulating a hole to tie with.

badum badum badum badum badum

Arterius rubbed himself faster. He was nearing his own peak soon, but he doubted it’d be in time.

The ground moved as Craven dug his claws into the rugs again. It must’ve taken everything Craven had not to scream or moan--to be silent. Arterius was right to trust him.

Arterius felt his body get pressed hard into the ground as Craven’s hips rocked even harder--faster. The knot swelled again. With each thrust the tip tapped the back of his throat.

Wait! Arterius suddenly thought, too late. He’s going to finish in my-

Craven stifled a roar, instead giving a low, pleasured whimper, as he climaxed.

The balls slapped hard against Arterius’ legs as the shaft thrusted hard into his throat. The knot swelled and pulsed--the flesh inside growing suddenly even warmer than it had before. The first load made a perfect seal with Arterius’ muzzle, forcing him to swallow as the thick, burning-hot seed pulsed into his esophagus and down into his stomach. It was massive, and Arterius began to gag from it all. Gods, with a second load he would begin to drown.

Craven seemed to notice, however, and pulled back just in time to splatter the second pulse across his face--covering it entirely. Then a third across his pecs. Then a fourth. Then a fifth.

Arterius coughed, gagged, and swallowed. It was salty-tasting, but held a tinge of the sweetness from the pie earlier. All the while he continued on himself, finally reaching his peak amidst the seventh load washing over him. Whatever paltry load he had was lost in the sea of Craven’s. But his thighs rose to meet the knot, shaft splattering out firmly against Craven’s pulsing shaft. Not timed perfectly, Arterius thought, but good enough.

Arterius kept his eyes firmly shut and let himself become covered. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.

After a minute of this the pulsing finally stopped, and Arterius felt himself in a thick puddle of loam. The air was ungodly hot and moist--saliva, cum, and sweat thick in the air. And the musk was thicker than iron being shoveled down his throat. Arterius took a breath and felt it consume him from the inside out.

Hesitantly, Arterius put a hand to his stomach and swore it was slightly distended. Surely not, right?

Craven was panting and regaining himself, and he was the first to come to his wits. He rose off of Craven and it was like feeling fresh air for the first time in Arterius’ life. It was all he could do to stare at the woodbeams in the ceiling and breathe. He breathed in Craven’s residual musk. He breathed in the covering he’d received. And he breathed in the air of the rookery--everyone still somehow asleep.

A white-feathered Gryphon loomed above him after a moment, ears flopping to the sides. “Are you alive?” Craven asked, looking concerned.

Arterius could not respond. He swallowed another shovelful of Craven’s pleasure and took another, uneasy breath. After a moment, however, he raised his hand in an uneasy thumbs-up.

Craven’s floppy head turned into a smile. “Good. That was really amazing, you know? So exciting!”

At Craven’s voice one of the nearby Gryphons stirred slightly.

“Shit, hold on.” Craven glanced around as if he was looking for help before ultimately deciding to gently pry Arterius out of the puddle and place him onto his back. Arterius fell back, still wheezing. Craven quickly padded away towards the roof access before stopping, turning back, rolling up the rug Arterius had been under, and continuing towards the door with it tucked underneath his arm.

The night air was amazing on Arterius’ scales. Cold ripples like liquid moonlight prickled down his body, drawing the burning warmth from his body into something much more pleasant. Crickets, owls, and bullfrogs screamed into the night, and the stars dazzled across the stars--a large clump of them looking like a spilled glass of mulberry juice.

Gently, Craven laid Arterius down onto the cold stone of the roof. One of his paws gently stroked the Kobold’s belly--oddly intimate.

After a long few minutes, Arterius could finally speak. “I’m…” he panted. “I’m really sticky.”

Craven laughed and pulled Arterius closer to him. The Gryphon had taken to lying on his side beside him, as if they were cuddling. No, Arterius thought. It wasn’t ‘as if.’ We are. We are cuddling. Arterius had never cuddled with Craven before. Sure, there was the routine of sleeping beside him in the crook of his neck, but that had been different. “I’m sure you are,” Craven said. “The feeling of you under me like that was incredible. Never had anything like it.”

“Glad I could…” Arterius took another breath, “make you feel like that.” It still felt odd saying that. In the past, he’d focused mainly on his own pleasure except when he was trying to get something, but today he’d been entranced in another’s. In Craven’s of all people. What did it mean for him? Did it mean he was changing? A better person than he would do the same thing, wouldn’t they?

Also, Arterius thought, what does it say to me that I gave myself up to him? He’d always enjoyed making others submit, there was little else as enticing as seeing someone--especially someone so comparatively massive--giving themselves up to him. I enjoyed being the submissive one, today. That’s odd. There wasn’t anything wrong with enjoying both sides of the bed, but it came as a shock to him. Arterius was changing. Or… maybe… he was finding out truths about himself that had yet to become uncovered. That frustrated him slightly. He thought he’d pulled everything about himself out in his war against himself during his youth, but it seemed that the reserve armies were still lurking deep within.

The thin feathers of the paw rubbed Arterius in all of the right places. It was as big as him, and it felt safe to be held this way. Craven continued smiling, the afterglow obviously making him all mushy. Shit, Arterius thought. It’s making me all mushy too.

“Did you enjoy it?” Craven said.

“I did,” Arterius said, allowing himself to enjoy the touch. “I learned some things about myself. Though I don’t like being sticky like this.” Arterius couldn’t help but be reminded of the slime coating him every time he surfaced from the river the flotilla liked to park on. "Could you...?

Craven blinked. “Oh yeah, let me help you with that.” Craven leaned down and started lapping up his mess off of Arterius. He was coated from head to toe, but Craven’s head was so large--the tongue so long--that it wouldn’t take that long.

With a start, Arterius realized that Craven was taking his time savoring Arterius’ taste (and a bit of his own). Good, Arterius thought. This feels amazing and it’s what I wanted. And it only took me asking. I should remember that. He could feel himself begin to get hard again, though he ignored it.

The lack of inhibitions the afterglow gave soon turned from a feeling of closeness with Craven, to feelings about himself and the world--about deeper matters. There was still so much to know, to understand, to see… To decide.

“I think I know what to build, Craven,” Arterius said with a start.

Craven licked up a hefty portion of stickiness on Arterius’ stomach and licked his beak before swallowing. An olive eye turned to address him. “What are you thinking?”

“I thought for a long time that no one would ever rise up. That my people were fools to revolt. But…” Arterius trailed off, finding the words difficult to say. Gods, what am I saying?

Craven nuzzled into him. “Take your time.”

Almost off of instinct, Arterius found himself wrapping his arms around Craven's head. He couldn't reach all the way around, but he could spread his fingers and feel the feathers brush in between them. Craven's warmth was hard on him too, making the night air pleasant.

“Heh…” Arterius lifted his hand to stroke the feathers of Craven’s cheek. They were so soft. How hadn’t he ever realized that before? “...But at the end when I was falling and you were fighting the deputies, the Jhunaloc stepped in. They revolted… in a way.”

“They hated the sheriff,” Craven said, softly. “So when the deputies were distracted with me, the Jhunaloc took the opportunity.”

Arterius nodded, agreeing. “I understand now why people don’t rise up… But I also understand now that people can. Do you understand?”

The nuzzling paused for a moment, as if lost in memory, before continuing. “I do… My family believes in the ancient ways of the Triplet Mountains… in pacifism. They’ve hated me ever since I decided to run off and fight with your people.”

Arterius blinked, suddenly feeling very sad. “...I didn’t know that about you.”

Craven nodded, but didn’t respond. It was obviously something he still contended with in his mind. Arterius felt a sudden urge to reach out and help him. Though, it did not seem like something he wanted to address right now. Later, Arterius thought.

For a moment Arterius struggled to find some more words, but in the search he remembered something. Something that Esix had said... Hesitating slightly, Arterius tried something.

His eyes traced over Craven's head. The ears that flopped to the side, more silly than anything. The sharp feathers that came out his head like daggers. A small tuft on either side of his beak, making it look like he had slightly puffy cheeks. The olive eyes like looked like miniature galaxies.

There was more than that, though. As his eyes traced further down he could just barely see Craven's body curled up like the moon, a massive hand still gently rubbing Arterius' stomach in smooth, calm circles. His tail thrummed against the ground lightly, idly twitching. Craven is really beautiful, Arterius thought. Esix had been right. The beauty had been there all along, he just had to appreciate it.

Arterius felt himself smiling, oddly. He was feeling rather content.

The words came, finally. “There has to be people trying to fight against the Dynasty, Craven," Arterius said, strengthening his grip on the feathers. "A group, a guild, an organization… something.” It could even be a Dragon, Arterius thought, remembering Soil-Stuck’s words. But no, that’d be foolish. Dragons were all devils, nothing more. “Maybe we could find them. I can’t return to Lancelos, but maybe I could avenge it. Or at least try to.” Suddenly, Arterius thought of Esix. He’d miss the stilter even though Arterius hadn’t known him for very long. “My soul won’t let me disappear into a normal life. That privilege was taken from me the moment Lancelos burned.”

To give Craven credit, he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by the words. “It will be dangerous,” he said. “We won’t be running anymore and the Stormwardens will catch us.”

You promised that you’d never cower again. “The Stormwardens will catch us eventually even if we keep running. We’re just delaying the inevitable.”

Craven nodded, seeing the sense in that.

“I won’t keep cowering… Not like I did before.” Arterius grabbed Craven’s paw and met his eyes, seeing the soul deep within olive galaxies. “But I don’t want to be alone… Will you come with me?”

“Of course!” Craven bellowed. He chuckled, squeezing Arterius’ hand gently. “I jumped into the belly of one beast for you already, what’s another?”

Arterius almost laughed, but the seriousness of the moment was heavy on him. He and Craven would surely die in this pursuit, but they would pursue it nonetheless. Not for self-satisfaction, but for the world that would come tomorrow.

Squeezing the hand back, Arterius nodded. “...Thank you.” He meant every word.

---

###

_ Afterword _

// I'll keep my yapping short (kinda). I hope that you've enjoyed this tale! It had been a lot of fun to write, and I've gotten a bit entranced with Arterius' and Craven's story. This world I've been working on has really started to bloom with this story, and I quite like it. I don't know if these twos' story will continue, but I won't say no, either. It's late for me right now and I'm not cognizant enough to make any decisions.

If you're curious about Jhunal, I'd recommend looking up Mystery Flesh Pit Mystery National Park. It's a very interesting worldbuilding project that I took inspiration from (I bet you can see with what exactly by the name alone XD). It's super cool. Anyway, I'm open to criticism or suggestions if you'd like to. I'm really trying to hone my craft better, but it's difficult for me to do so without feedback. For this story in particular, I've been worrying about pacing. Maybe it's good? Maybe it's bad? I think it's okay but I have no real way of knowing when I'm stuck within my own brain. When you've written something and have read it time and time again, stuff like pacing kinda just melts away. I hope you understand what I mean. Thoughts or advice would be incredibly appreciated.

Anyway, even if it's not feedback comments are welcomed and encouraged! They're really amazing to recieve and it really helps my motivation. Have a good day and thank you for reading! //