Royal Griffon Ch.4

Either Nic had gotten better at handling crowds, or griffons weren’t the incessant gossips he’d grown to expect from high society. The second he left the vicinity of the throne, the young techne may as well have ceased to exist so far as the room at large was concerned. A few people offered polite greetings in passing, but for the most part he was left alone to wander in peace.

A situation Nic was just fine with as it left him free to search for Isabella in earnest. She had vanished after he’d first spotted her and hadn’t yet reemerged. Nic was just beginning to suspect that was on purpose when he finally caught a glimpse of blue. He politely fought his way in the general direction, trying to keep pace but quickly losing sight of her again through an especially dense press of people. Reaching the far side, she was still nowhere to be seen, leaving Nic at a loss until someone tapped him on the shoulder. Without thinking he turned to look, only to fall straight into Isabella’s trap as her upturned finger jabbed into his cheek.

“Classy,” Nic said.

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

Isabella stepped back, wearing her familiar dagger smile, though Nic knew her well enough to recognize it as happy rather than devious. He was pretty sure at least.

“Enjoying yourself?” Nic asked.

“Representing my family,” she shrugged. “Keeping up appearances.”

“That bad huh?” Nic asked with a chuckle.

“I swear one more person asks after my mother and I’m going to scream.” She gestured at the throne. “What about you? The old man drag you out for show and tell again?”

“I guess,” Nic shrugged. “The Hierarch didn’t seem that interested in me when we were talking to him.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Nic narrowed his eyes, trying to tease out any double meanings from Isabella’s expression. She gave him nothing but her best smile.

“Explain.”

“He spoke to you, right?” Isabella asked.

“Like, two words.”

“That’s two more than most get.”

Nic blinked, processing the implications.

“Seriously?”

“You calling me a liar?”

Nic scoffed. “I’m not that dumb.”

“Smart.”

A subtle gonging sound rang out through the air, so gentle that Nic more felt it than heard it. He looked about, eventually spotting a trio of griffons entering through the main archway. The Seneschal was leading them, though Nic got the distinct impression it was more on sufferance than respect. The trio were making a proper spectacle, wings partly unfolded to make themselves larger, and to force the crowd to scatter before them. Nic suspected it was unneeded as there was not a single eye looking elsewhere.

“Someone has a high opinion of themselves,” Nic said.

“Nathyl of Judai Aerie,” Isabella helpfully informed him. “One of Zulathon’s allied flocks.”

“An important one?” Nic asked, watching as the trio swept past them. Nathyl had extended her wings further as she approached the throne, completely unfolding them above her body to show off the patterns in full. They were impressive to behold, specks of gold upon black, looking like a starry Night sky.

“They think so,” Isabella said.

The trio finally reached the throne, the Seneschal rising to begin his normal spiel, only to be interrupted by a whistling song from Nathyl. Zulathon looked down on her, expression stoic as he responded with a song of his own.

“Any idea what they’re saying?” Nic asked.

“You don’t have a translator?” Isabella asked.

“Wasn’t allowed to bring any real tech,” he said, patting his pocket. “Just a tablet.”

Isabella rolled her eyes before reaching out and pressing a finger to Nic’s neck.

“You really need to learn the ways of dinner parties, Greytower.”

Nic was about to speak to his defense when suddenly the birdsong smoothly transitioned into synthetic voices. It caught the tail end of Zulathon replying to his guests.

“-see you again Lady Nathyl.”

Nic glanced at Isabella, eyebrows raised with a half dozen implied questions. She just shook her head, dagger smile sliding a bit further from its sheath.

“A lady needs some secrets,” she said.

Nic scoffed again, turning back as Nathyl took her turn to speak. Whatever spell Isabella had running was sophisticated enough to modulate the translation, giving her a different voice from Zulathon.

“Your Grace, may I introduce my heir apparent, Sir Kalthus.” She gestured to the griffon on her left, a large calico with black wings like her own. “And my champion, Sir Saku.” To her right, at a griffon who rivaled even Zulathon himself in size, his grey fur and multiple scars speaking of a long, harsh life.

“Your Grace,” Kalthus said. “An honour to meet you.”

Zulathon nodded, though his gaze barely strayed from Nathyl. At most he offered the other two a passing glance, certainly not the actual words he’d spoken to Nic.

“See what I mean?” Isabella said. “You got special treatment.”   

“People are already talking, aren’t they?” Nic asked, heart sinking.

“Probably.” She smiled at him. “You’ve got a talent for that.”

Nic grumbled, turning back just in time to see the trio of Judai griffons move away from the throne. Despite their wings being folded, people continued to keep well clear. Not parting exactly but definitely taking steps to avoid direct interaction. None of the trio seemed offended in the slightest.

“They seem nice,” Nic said.

“Oh, they’re the height of decorum,” Isabella said. “Didn’t even insult anyone this- oh no…”

She trailed off, her eyes focusing on the archway. Nic followed her gaze, catching sight of what she’d spotted just as the gong rang again. Somehow his heart found even deeper depths to sink to.

Arthur Worthington had not entered Nic’s thoughts once in the weeks since their duel. He’d been happy to keep it that way, not at all interested in devoting brain power to recalling the pompous ass existed. It seemed the multiverse had different ideas for him today as said ass came swanning into the hall. He trailed in the wake of his father, both men dressed in mirror images of one another, complete with flowing capes and poofy red waistcoats. The only notable difference was that Julius wore a familiar shield on his shoulder, this one bearing the Worthington coin and dragon sigil.

“Oh great,” Nic said as they watched the pair cross the room and approach the throne. Thankfully neither seemed to notice them in return, too busy basking in the center of attention.

“Not a surprise,” Isabella said. “He’s also knighted by Harakin.”

“Like Master Orlin?” Nic asked.

Isabella nodded. “Same circumstances I believe, something they did when Zulathon was securing his claim to the Aerie. They saved his life, according to him.”

That was interesting, Nic filing the little tidbit away for later as the two Worthingtons swept up to the throne. The Seneschal introduced them, though he was quickly upstaged as Julius dropped into a flawless, flourishing bow.

“A great honour as always, your Grace!” he boomed. “You remember my son, Arthur?”

“We do,” Zulathon inclined his head. “Hello young man.”

Arthur gave a bow of his own, less flashy but just as flawless. “Hail, your Grace.”

“Please, enjoy the hospitality of the Aerie,” Zualthon said before turning to address Julius again. “Sir Worthington, will you join us?”

“But of course, but of course,” Julius said with a grin, ascending the steps to the dais. “Wouldn’t want Grey here getting lonely, would we?”

Even from this distance Nic could feel Orlin rolling his eyes, though he said nothing as Julius settled into another conjured chair. Arthur took a final bow and departed, striding away confidently into the crowd. He greeted several people in passing, skillfully deflecting and engaging words in such a way that no one could pin him down.

“What’s considered a challenge here?” Nic asked. “Asking for a friend. Who is me.”

“Now, now,” Isabella said with a smile. “Let’s save the scene causing until after the hors d’oeuvres at least.”

Nic laughed, Isabella joining in with a respectable giggle. Both faded as Arthur finally drifted within range. He made a show of pretending not to notice them, engaging a random woman in extended conversation to her great confusion. Only after a full minute of loudly talking about nothing did he finally turn towards the two of them.

“Izzy,” he said with a wide smile. “So good to see you again.”

“Lord Worthington.”

“Izzy, Izzy, Izzy, how many times must I tell you, it’s Arthur?”

“Of course, Lord Worthington, I’ll try to remember for next time.”

“I’m sure.” He turned to glance at Nic, the smile instantly vanishing from his face like water off a windscreen. “Greytower.”

“Worthy,” Nic said. He took satisfaction in watching Arthur flinch at the word.

“Ha, ha, what a comedian you are,” Arthur said, brushing off the annoyance. “Izzy, will you join me in making the rounds?”

Isabella shook her head. “Thank you for the invitation but I’ve already made my introductions.”

“And I don’t know anyone here,” Nic said. “Have fun though.”

Arthur cast him a look, a withering glare cracking his mask of polite formality, which he barely put any effort into repairing.

“Ah forgive me, I’m sure that one of your standing will know his way around a royal court.”

“I’m sure I’ll figure it out,” Nic said. “I’m good at that.”

“I see your wit remains as sharp as ever.”

“You know you can skip the veil, right?” Nic said. “The insults might land better.”

Arthur fumed but said nothing, though did take his advice by openly glowering at Nic. Nic gave the look nothing, simply continuing to grin in triumph. Eventually Arthur cracked, grumbling at Nic before turning a mildly more pleased expression at Isabella.

“If you’re ever wanting better company Izzy, the invitation stands,” he said.

“Of course,” she said. “Have a good evening, Lord Worthington.”

He looked like he wanted to say something more but resisted, instead turning away to vanish into the crowd. They both watched him go, waiting to make sure he was good and gone before Isabella broke the silence.

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” she asked.

“What? You want me to make friends?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Nic laughed, Isabella joining him in earnest this time.

“Come on,” Nic said. “Let’s go see if there’s some food in this place.”

“Are you sure you can catch it?” Isabella asked.

“I thought that’s why I kept you around.”

Isabella smiled.

“Obviously.”

*

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