Talox leaned both his talons on the parapet, squinting at the horizon. Somewhere in that direction, just over the Grey Hills, gryphons were fighting dragons. If the brave gryphon squadrons should fall, if the rampaging reptiles should reach the Spring Palace and the royal family themselves... well, it was just unthinkable. Already it was being called the definitive battle of their age.
And Talox was left out of it. He could see Commander Grevval's point: it would hardly do to leave the castle completely empty, even in this direst of emergencies. Someone had to stay behind to keep the fires burning and the hawks fed. Talox just didn't see why that someone had to be Talox. He knew Grevval saw him as incompetent - a liability, even - but he was sure he didn't deserve the label. It was an easy enough mistake to put his talons through the rear legs of his chainmail and his paws through the front. Anyone could have done it. Grevval was quite unfair to keep going on about it so. And as for the day he'd got his head stuck in the butter churn, well that he admitted was genuinely embarrassing, but it was just sheer bad luck that Grevval had been the one to discover him.
There was a distant flash of red from over the hills. Dragon fire? Talox balanced on his paws and pulled himself up to his fullest height, as though by doing so he might somehow peer over the top of the hills. And that's when he spotted the two figures approaching the castle.
They were black monks. Black monks were unmistakable because of the ragged black sheets they wore over their bodies, covering everything except their paws, talons and beaks. Even their wings were covered, meaning the monks had to rather demeaningly walk on foot from village to village, preaching and begging for scraps and shelter. Talox wasn't overjoyed by the prospect of entertaining monks, and let out a rather self-indulgent sigh as he clinked down the tower steps towards the gate.
"Open the door!" shouted a distinctly unmonkish voice, with a hard rap of a beak against the woodwork. Talox did so, and the monk in front pushed himself rather rudely inside without being invited.
"This castle is now in the service of the princess," he announced, throwing off his disguise to reveal the trappings of a royal guard.
"Um..." Talox blinked in confusion. "This castle's the property of the Free Duke of Feugenmist. I... don't think you have the authority to take it over?"
"No. I don't." He nodded his beak towards the other monk. "But she does."
The second monk also shed her disguise, and indeed proved - surprisingly for a monk - to be female. But that was possibly the least surprising thing about her. For unlike the mottled brown of Talox's coat or the distinguished grey of the guard's - both rather common colourations - her fur and feathers were both a pure, bright and unblemished shining gold. Only one type of gryphon had a coat like that: a royal one.
Talox at once dropped to the floor; his belly, beak, wings and tail all pressed as flat against the flagstones as possible in a gesture of respectful submission.
The guard cleared his throat. "Presenting her most pure and benevolent highness Princess Phyroselxia, divine of divines of the sky-temples of Elgraenios, overwing-honour of the twelve royal legions, supreme of the vastlands of Telintir, and first maiden of all gryphons."
"Your Radiance," said Talox meekly.
* * *
The royal guard - whose name was Silvon - had been ill amused to find that Talox constituted the entire household. Commander Grevval, as it turned out, had been given orders to stay put without being given any explanation why, and had taken it under his own wings to disobey and fly to join the battle instead. Other than that, the plan to smuggle the princess out of harm's way had been rather a brilliant one. Not even dragons would swoop to bother a couple of lowly monks travelling alone. And Castle Feugenmist was unlikely to be a target of their war, standing guard as it did over nothing much of any particular value to anybody.
The princess lay curled in front of the fire, sleeping off her hard journey, the soft gold of her coat rising and falling with the swell of her breath, seeming to shimmer as it caught the light of the flickering flames. Talox - sitting a respectful distance back - couldn't help but stare in awe. She was to him a divine being, second only to a god, but she was also a gryphon and female and lying right there in front of him. And she was beautiful, his male mind couldn't help but notice. Not just her incredible golden coat but the sleek fullness of her body, the polished curve of her beak and her carefully manicured claws. Not just young and beautiful, but actually... perfect.
Unbidden and irreverent thoughts intruded into his mind, and he carefully squashed them. It didn't do to have carnal thoughts about the princess. She was far removed from base things like physical intimacy, let alone with the likes of him. Her virtue was famously pure and unsullied, carefully guarded by the old queen who surrounded her with a constant chaperone of females and eunuchs.
He looked again at Silvon, who sat sharpening his already-sharp claws nearby. He must surely be a eunuch, to be allowed so close to the princess. Talox had always pictured eunuchs as effeminate, but there was nothing effeminate about Silvon. He was big and deep-voiced and looked like he could easily eviscerate Talox with an idle flick of a talon, if they ever came to blows. Silvon glanced up and glared at him as though he were thinking of doing just that.
"You. Soldier," trilled a melodious but knife-sharp female voice. The princess was awake.
Talox dropped respectfully into a floor-hugging bow. "Your Radiance."
"I'm rested now. Take me to the great hall."
"You... um... are already in it, Your Radiance."
"Really?" She looked around her with an expression of perplexity. "You call this 'great'?"
"Yes, Your Radiance." He got back to his feet and decided, with a sense of loyalty to his castle, to explain some of its wonders. "The great hall was built when the castle was extended by Archyngro the Fierce in 787... or it might have been 878. One of those. The fireplace is particularly renowned. I can't remember why. And on the wall behind me, this large tapestry was woven to commemorate the battle of... um... some famous battle, anyway. It's got gryphons fighting each other. My favourite's that black one in the corner, who's playing the trumpet."
Neither member of his audience seemed to be paying much attention to his words. Silvon was keeping an eye out the window for approaching dragons. The princess hadn't given the fireplace or the tapestry more than the briefest of glances, but was staring at Talox himself as though he were some exotic item of food she'd just discovered on her dinner plate.
Silvon interrupted. "Does this castle have an armoury?"
"Certainly. Please follow me."
They both followed him into a long vaulted stone chamber. Armour plates and chainmail, steel helmets, one-talon and two-talon flight axes, dropping knives, wing nets, beak bayonets and a hundred other contrivances of war gleamed from the walls, all well-oiled and ready to kill. Even after the depletions of the departed force it was still an impressive collection.
"Quaint," muttered Silvon as he inspected it. "Still, better than nothing. My monk disguise only allowed me a very few small weapons." And he began taking down some very large weapons indeed.
The princess sidled up to Talox as the eunuch swung a beak-scimitar experimentally. She smelled of sweet perfumes: a honey scent with a sharper edge of hot ginger, and another smell he couldn't quite place but was highly agreeable to his nostrils.
"So you're a male?"
"Yes, Your Radiance." He wasn't quite sure what to make of the question.
"A real male. Not a eunuch. Intact."
"Yes, Your Radiance." He glanced at the guard, who was making so much clatter putting on a coat of chainmail (which he managed without putting the wrong limbs in the wrong holes, Talox noticed) that he couldn't possibly overhear.
"I've never met a real male before."
"You haven't, Your Radiance?"
"Not privately."
"I hope I don't disappoint, Your Radiance."
"I'm sure you won't. Show me."
"Show you what, Your Radiance?"
"Your... intactness. I've never seen one. I wish to see."
"Your Radiance?!"
"I'll get rid of my minder. Silvon!" She called his name sharply and loudly and he attended, now clad in the castle's best chainmail with several exotic weapons slung about him.
