Once they were clear of the Aerie grounds, Arlis let out a single sob, then was quiet. Koben clapped him on the back, then gave him a gentle shake. “It’s only one month, cousin. You don’t turn eighteen for another fifteen or so. Gunu won’t refuse you a keet when the time comes.”
“He refused Kaleit four years in a row.”
“That was only the first time. Tannoran’s the one holding him back now. And don’t dare compare yourself to him. He’s cut from a very different cloth.”
They walked across town, more than once wading among flocks of sheep and goats being herded in the direction they’d come from. Each herd had a manure wagon behind it, and a team of people cleaning up after the animals had passed through. It was bizarre to Leslyn to have such animals in the streets, and so many, but Arlis and Koben paid them no mind whatsoever. The further they got from the Aerie, the less often they encountered the flocks, and he began to put two and two together. They had to feed the griffins somehow, and they clearly were not doing it halfway.
As they continued on, Leslyn thought about that, and about how strongly Arlis felt toward Gunu’s refusal to let Kaleit have a griffin. “Sire,” he said to Koben, “am I correct in guessing that there’s special honor in raising a griffin? It’s not a right when one turns eighteen?”
“Correct. As I was saying before, they’re our lifeblood. Without them, we’re stuck on this one island during Flood when the merlings come to the surface and take over the seas. No travel, no trade, no protection when the dracats and wyverns come looking for seasonal hunting grounds. Populations would starve, or run out of crucial medicines. In return for the freedom of flight and the strength to defend ourselves, we make sure their species survives as well.”
He’d known they were of great use as transport, but not of such dire importance. Having never left his small, secluded hometown, he’d… well, he’d taken them for granted. “They were struggling before manlings intervened?”
“They were practically extinct. When Crylis was broken and brought the first floods, their hunting grounds shrank to nothing. The wyverns and the griffins’ own cousins, the dracats, are much more numerous, and stripped the lands of prey. Their choice of mates dwindled until the inbreeding was almost a greater danger than the famine. We’ve provided for them and developed a careful breeding program—something they don’t have the wit to manage themselves. Four hundred years later, we’re still trying to get certain bad traits out of our lines.”
“And that’s why you chased Wrath for so long. You needed fresh blood.”
“Correct, dear squire. To answer your original question, raising a griffin is an esteemed privilege of service in the King’s Guard that comes with rank, or by earning it as a boon from the royal family, who then provides for all of the griffins' needs through the Aerie, as most people can’t afford to feed them. We are merely caretakers, and the beasts are not our property. Technically, my father owns every griffin on the Nilvaran registry, which will soon include Wrath and her keets once they are distributed, and I update the records.”
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Leslyn nodded mutely, his gaze going distant as he finally realized the full magnitude of what he’d been offered—and ungraciously turned his nose up at. Humble Liren had earned his griffin by way of several years’ service to the royal family delivering goods and messages to nearby islands by skiff during the Dry, but never made much of it.
“Well, in that case… I would be honored to accept your offer, sire.”
He jumped guiltily as Koben let out a loud whoop—but not at his acceptance. A wedge-shaped formation of about fifty griffins was flying over them, then went on and descended to land in a high-walled courtyard ahead of them. Above the courtyard stood two stone-brick buildings, one decidedly larger and more detailed than the other. The royal castle and barracks, Leslyn guessed.
Koben led the two boys right into the courtyard, where soldiers were dismounting the griffins in near-perfect unison. At the leading point of the wedge, a woman in uniform was taking off her helmet and goggles. She hung those off of her saddle and leaned against her big black griffin, patting its shoulder and praising it for its good work. Ears forward, it looked back at her with bright eyes and gave a pleasant chirrup.
“General Xavara,” the prince called out, holding his hand out as he came near.
“Prince Koben, welcome home.” She took the offered hand and shook it firmly. “Arlie?” When her gaze shifted from Koben to Arlis, the boy ducked his head and stepped behind Leslyn, who was neither tall nor broad enough to fully conceal him. “Koben, why is my son hiding from me? You’re not back a day yet and you’ve already gotten him into trouble again?”
Lifting his palms in a defensive gesture, Koben put an exaggerated look of innocence on his face. “Who, me? Never.”
The general’s searching eyes fell on Leslyn, but he sensed that she wasn’t passing the blame to him—she was merely looking through him, towards her son. “Come here, Arlis.”
Obeying immediately, the boy went to his mother, keeping his head bowed.
“What did you do?”
“I’m… I’m banned from the Aerie.”
“The Aerie?” She put a hand over her mouth. “Five knights and a Queen, Arlis! How did you manage that?”
“G-Gunu said that I—” That was all he got out before his voice broke. Arlis turned and ran toward the stable.
His mother watched him go, brow furrowed. “Wonderful. With that kind of punishment, he’ll be sulking in there with the horses for a week. What happened, Ben?”
Koben sidled up to her. “Just a teaching moment, dear Aunt. No harm done, but Gunu’s sent him out for one month to cement the lesson. You know he’s already considering the boy for an apprentice, even at this tender age.”
"He’s been quietly testing my disposition on the idea for years. I wish he'd leave off. Arlis is still a child in his heart, even if he doesn't act like it when the task involves animals.”
"Mhm," was Koben's thoughtful reply. "Slower to feather out, perhaps, but it's worth the wait. He'll have the fullest mane when he comes into his prime."
She looked after her son with a soft expression. “He’s just like his father.”
“A most excellent man.”
She swallowed. “That he was.”