Black Horns, Mountain Shadow [High Fantasy, non-LitRPG]

Driftbane looked over her shoulder as they approached where she grazed outside the Laon hut, black mane hanging between her eyes. Ja'kel was sitting nearby with his legs crossed and several soldiers on duty.

"I apologise for intruding on your people's space," began Dorius, lifting the edges of his robes above the ground, he wouldn't have time to change again if he got his borrowed robes dirty - yet another gift from the Laons.

Elias steadied himself on his staff, an audible gasp coming from the older man's mouth, his eyes locked onto Driftbane's powerful form, "I never thought I'd live so long…"

Draftbane flicked her ear and returned to cropping the small amount of grass in the plot behind between the wings of the chapel.

"You are a plague upon my people," spat Ja'kel, scratching at the peeling black ash painted on his chest.

"And I am afraid I will continue to be. I would like to buy the service of some soldiers, just for the evening," replied Dorius diplomatically. Overhead, a passing shadow let him know Bastian was nearby.

"They are not for sale."

"Yet you serve the Vigil?"

"As a favor to a god. You are anything but that," hissed the drone.

"What offer can I make?" he asked, but a thought began to coalesce even as he said the words.

"There is nothing-"

"What about word from another colony? Regular communication with another of your people?" offered Dorius over his denial.

Ja'kel narrowed his eyes, snorting in derisive amusement, "You surely jest. I know you cannot offer that."

Dorius carefully lifted one hem of his robe higher as he stepped forward. "No, not yet. Apparently your people - Val's colony - lies to the south of my lands, beyond the Pentarchy's border. We know where we found her and can trace them. Val could do it, she expressed an interest in finding where she was born. What if we could establish communication between your people? Something more regular than your wandering Alates?"

"You barter with a possibility?"

"Yes. For one night only. A few borrowed soldiers to stand at my side. A small price to pay." There was a pause, he was curious. Dorius sweetened the pot, "And some coin in the meantime. I wish good relations with your people, if for no other reason than you are the kin of my bodyguard."

"And where is the Alate?" asked Ja'kel slyly.

"Not here. Your response?" bid Dorius.

Ja'kel looked between his fingers, clicking his tongue in annoyance. "I will think of a price that is suitable. And I know your kind likes contracts. You will write a contract with your promise, given no compulsion can pass between us."

"Thank you. We will depart very shortly, please have them ready. Elias, make something suitable, I will personally put my name to it when we are done given we do not have my seals with me."

Dorius took the conclusion of their conversation as an invite to step closer to Driftbane, careful not to touch her uninvited.

"This is Elias, he is my closest advisor. We would like to know we can do to make you comfortable, make arrangements for you… Do I introduce you as Driftbane?"

A moment passed where Driftbane only flicked her tail, seeming as if she would ignore them.

There are very few who deserve to know my name. Do not use it casually. She warned.

"I can't just call you 'winged-horse'?" asked Dorius curiously. He gave Elias a glance to see if the old man could hear her words and was met by a slight frown at his questioning gaze. It seemed she could be quite direct in who she chose to speak to.

A kin over her withers, between her wings, shivered. I will think on my needs.

"Very well then. I will also need you to carry me to a meeting with my cousin," Dorius continued.

She shifted and lowered one wing again, the wrist of her wing twisted as a step for him to mount her. Dorius took the invite, and stepped forward, hitching up his robes as he scrambled into position between her wings. When he looked down at Elias, the old man's eyes glittered with tears of pride he'd never seen before. "My Prince. There can be no other greater of our generation," he beamed, "None of your cousins could ever dream of such honor."

Dorius twisted his hands nervously into Driftbane's mane as she raised her head, watching him with one long dark pupil. She did not speak, but her words still whispered in his memories. Too weak for the heavy crown.

—

They were a procession that was simple, except for its supernatural presence, composed of Fae creatures rather than men and bulls.

Dorius rode at the fore, Driftbane below him taking high and elegant steps, loosely stretching her wings to either side as if to show them off. Her shoulders were taller than any man-bred horse, her neck delicately arched and manner steady demonstrating her strength and confidence. Her hide darkened to black down her limbs and along her face, ending in broad hooves and black feathers.

Her blue-roan color matched his own slate-grey robes, lacking embroidery or beading, but folded from rich silken materials that were not human in their origin. He wore very little jewelry, except for a number of rings in his fingers that he turned nervously while twining his fingers between the long hairs of his steed's mane. At his rear marched four Laon soldiers, waists wrapped with black wolf pelt, halberds held stiffly at their sides. Above, ignored by men, a red-shoulder goshawk hovered in the wind.

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Dorius was the only human, and while he wore no gold to mark his status, no man in living history had ever been seen with such a retainer. The locals of High Haven willingly and unconsciously cleared the path before them without any honor guard needed to travel before him.

A bald figure slipped from between the buildings to fall in one step behind Driftbane. Dorius did not turn from his seat as he called, "Bryer? You are joining?"

Bryer nodded, wearing casual tied pants and a jacket of a very similar fabric to Vigilant robes. A silver pendant, in the shape of an eye, hung around their neck. "You said I could attend for my own amusement?"

Dorius snorted in amusement, "It is my preference. What did the Prime think?"

"Who said I told her. You said I was not a representative of the Vigil?"

Dorius let his self-satisfied grin linger on his face, anything to distract him from the pit of anxiety in his stomach.

The gob-smacked look on Sylus' attendant's face when he turned the street to their assigned meeting place did little to help, although he had wished for this moment most of his life since meeting his cousin. He did get the satisfaction of seeing the man pat another shoulder and wave into the building, quickly followed by the captain that was clearly Gustave emerging to drop his jaw into an open mouth gape before he steadied himself.

Driftbane turned slightly as they arrived, stamping her broad foot once and tossing her head imperiously. Dorius remained mounted.

"Husband of my cousin," he declared, ignoring Gustave's captain's plume and the associated title, "Where is my cousin?"

"He has not yet-"

"No doubt waiting for me to arrive first for his own entry. Bring him out. I am here," interrupted Dorius.

Driftbane paced in a circle, letting him look up and down the street. He felt her shift under his poor balance, compensating for his bad horsemanship. He lifted his voice and gathered every nerve in his body, "Come out Sylus. I know you are waiting for me. Let us enter as equals for once."

Just as he guessed a carriage rounded the street, led by a single rider at the fore of four bulls in gold and verdant green. It was not as ornate as Sylus usually travelled in, his rush up the mountain from Kal'fall must have been urgent once the gate opened. Dorius didn't need to urge Driftbane forward, and she came to stand by the window so Dorius could look down at the shutters as they were opened. When Sylus pushed the curtains back, ever the statesman, he carefully covered his mouth using one hand to smooth his moustache and hide his face. He was still wearing his armor.

Driftbane pawed ominously at the dirt. "Cousin," began Dorius.

"This is a surprise," he said mildly, "Am I to take your lack of gold as a political statement?"

"Always clothing with you. You can think whatever you want," sniffed Dorius in response.

The look Sylus gave him in return lasted, calculating as usual, "Clothing forges bonds, advertised allegiances, draws lines in the sand between 'us' and 'other'."

Driftbane sidled a step to let one of Sylus' retainers close to open his door, the man casting terrified looks at the huge horse. Dorius refused to dismount still. "I am a Prince of the Fourth, blood of the Dragon Throne, regardless of how I dress. I decided that it is better to shed my usual skin for once, to avoid others continuing to get the wrong impression," declared Dorius, looking down meaningfully from his position of height.

"You are not the only Prince here," hissed Sylus in warning as he stepped from his carriage, back stiff as if he was fighting his instincts to shy away from the winged creature that pranced before him. Gustave had both hands on his sword as he came close, one gripping the handle and the other ready on the sheath as if he was poised to draw at any moment.

Dorius raised his hand, gesturing for them both to his Laon guard. "There will be none of your mischief from last time. Treat me civilly, as I am due. And I will treat you the same."

The look of barely masked abhorrence on Sylus' face was worth every insult Dorius had ever received from his cousin, save one. Turning his jaw as if the words would choke him as he said them, Sylus uttered two words, "Very well."

Driftbane picked up her feet to trot back towards his retainer, and he dismounted with Bryer's aid, trying to surreptitiously brush Driftbane's grey hairs from his robes. "We may need to get you some kind of seat or blanket," he muttered to himself, "I cannot go everywhere covered in horse hair."

You will suffer some indignity to maintain my own.

Dorius paused, and watched one dark eye observe him a moment longer before she turned her head. Taking a breath, he turned and entered the hall Gail had prepared for them at his request, accompanied by the Laons and Bryer. It was no formal dinner, but a side room was already prepared with drinks and platters of food. High Haven's supplies were still thin, but there was a selection of neatly baked pastries filled with fruit preserves and thinly sliced air dried sausages, along with a small amount of fresh fruit. As Sylus entered behind him, one thumb hooked on his armored breastplate, Dorius served himself wine into a ceramic cup and gestured to the lounge area to sit.

"No servants?" asked Sylus.

"Have Gustave serve you. I prefer that we speak in private," replied Dorius.

"Except your guard and some lackey from the Vigil?" he replied, nodding towards Bryer who had an amused grin on their sharply featured face.

"You will forgive me some caution, considering."

Sylus clicked his tongue.

Dorius sat, and without waiting for Sylus to do the same, began. "You want to host a summit here. Why?"

"Straight to the point. You must understand, there is some complex…"

"I think I understand more than you would think. I know you and Synthias are up to something, and I do not know what the Pentarch knows of it. I will not call it treason, just yet-"

"You would threaten me!" interrupted Sylus, still standing.

"I said I will not call it treason yet! But I have been in this mountain for many weeks now, and I doubt there is anything you can say to me that I do not already know," finished Dorius.

Sylus sucked his breath in, his face tightening. They were at a stalemate until one of them gave up something.

Dorius sighed, and placed down his cup of wine. "You said a matter was greatly concerning to you?" He offered, as a place to start.

Sylus curled his fingers, tucking his chin to rest it on his knuckles. He smoothing his mustache reflexively for a moment, and then seemed to stiffen as he made a decision. "Synthias is sending someone."

Of all the things Dorius expected, that was not it. "Her brother?" Matthias was more hunting hound than man, dangerous off his leash.

"Worse. She has a magic user."

Dorius felt every muscle in his body stiffen. "How? Coming here?"

"I received news just before the gate opened."

"Why? Does this relate to the Second, to the summit you are requesting?"

Sylus recoiled slightly, suspiciously looking sideways at Gustave who had his chin set firmly. "What do you know?" he asked.