Book 2 - Chapter 16

A week later, Noah was back in his usual spot with Ciri and Mara — one of the private study rooms in the library. It was late in the day, and the two women had books on half a dozen different topics spread out before them, each deep into her own research project while Noah sketched designs for his prototype hot‑air balloon on a pad of paper. He had just finished the final lift‑to‑weight calculations in the margins when Ciri broke the silence.

“Mara, I require additional historical context on a human‑related topic.”

Mara looked up, blinking. “Uh… sure?”

“The first major trade agreements between the winter Fae and humans were signed during the reign of King Ulren Therondale. This book argues that these agreements formed the basis for the sparse knowledge‑sharing that followed — knowledge‑sharing that allowed human conduits to perform basic maintenance on ancient Fae cities.”

“Yes, that’s widely accepted,” Mara said.

“But here—” Ciri pulled a different thick tome toward her “—it says maintenance programs didn’t begin in Whisperwood or Greythorne until the rule of Queen Elana Therondale.”

“My knowledge of history from several hundred years ago is a little shaky, but that sounds right,” Mara said.

“This book—” Ciri dragged a third tome toward her, its pages filled with the smallest writing Noah had ever seen “—says that Elana Therondale didn’t begin her rule until thirty‑five years after Ulren’s passing.”

“Okay,” Mara said slowly, raising an eyebrow at Ciri’s silence. “I’m not sure what your question is.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did it take so long for the magical knowledge to reach those cities? There was undoubtedly infrastructural damage during that period. Damage that could have been prevented with regular maintenance — maintenance Therondale could have performed, but did not.”

“You should have given her more context about the forming of Therondale. It’s the least you could do, after everything she’s taught you,” Mara said, shooting Noah a look.

He shrugged. “I actually don’t know much about it.”

“How is that possible?”

“I grew up in a pretty small town, far from Crownspire. It wasn’t something we learned about,” he replied — a half‑truth.

“What was the name of the town?”

“You wouldn’t have heard of it.”

“Try me.”

“New York.”

She furrowed her brow and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re right, I haven’t. Which is surprising.”

Eager to move on, Noah shrugged. “All the more reason for you to tell us. I’ll be learning something too.”

Mara hesitated, as if unsure where to begin. “The cities you mentioned have always had a tense relationship with Crownspire, going back to Therondale’s founding. I’m not intimately familiar with those particular rulers, but I’d guess the crown held that knowledge over their heads until they agreed to political concessions — higher taxes, smaller guard forces, something like that. They’d be stubborn and refuse, of course, which led to the gap.” She shrugged. “They still do it today, over every little thing. Same song and dance.”

“Why?” Ciri asked.

“Why what?” Mara said, confused.

“Why have these cities always had a difficult relationship with Crownspire? Are they not all part of the same nation, and therefore subservient to the crown?”

Glad she asked and not me, Noah thought.

“Therondale’s founding was… not unanimous,” Mara said. “King Corvyn Therondale grew up here, back when the city still bore its ancient Fae name.”

“Ælorvæn,” Ciri supplied. “Where things gather and remain.”

“Exactly.” Mara nodded. “He was a visionary and a scribe — maybe even the first human scribe, though that’s not confirmed. He gathered several conduits, wild Fae and human, to his cause and rose to power within the city. Then he married the daughter of Braemont’s leader, effectively gaining control of both cities. Sevalin fell in line shortly after, forming the core of Therondale’s power. Whisperwood and Greythorne resisted, raising their own armies and annexing Rookhaven.”

“Then they fought,” Ciri said. “I am aware of that much.”

Mara let out a dark chuckle. “An understatement. Rookhaven changed hands several times. Tarn’s Reach — built on a much smaller ancient Fae city — turned from a fishing village into an industrial center to supply the war. Corvyn never conquered Whisperwood or Greythorne, but he committed atrocities that forced them to the negotiating table — burning farms, spreading diseases, poisoning water supplies. Their leaders eventually surrendered and signed the treaty that formed Therondale.”

“But they never forgot,” Noah said.

“No. They never forgot. There’s always been animosity between their lords and the crown. They bend the rules governing the country — sometimes break them entirely.”

“Given human tendencies toward aggression, I would think the crown would simply raise an army and bring them to heel,” Ciri said.

“It’s not that simple. The politics are complicated,” Mara countered. “At that point in history, a united Therondale served as a buffer against Ferrum Vale and offered protection against perceived threats from the summer and winter Fae empires. Attacking two of its cities would have shattered that unity, inviting all sorts of trouble.”

“And now?” Ciri asked.

“Now it’s even more complicated.” Mara laughed under her breath. “Officially, the crown controls the army, but they’re spread thin across the country. They’re basically a well‑trained ranger force with a small navy. If they were recalled to assault Whisperwood or Greythorne, they’d probably outnumber one city’s guard force — but the rest of the country would be left open to bandits, rebellion, monsters, you name it. Not to mention the fact that they also function as Crownspire’s city guard, so that kind of an attack would leave the city undefended and vulnerable to a counterattack. So the crown tolerates small acts of dissent and tries to squeeze concessions out of them by other means.”

“Like withholding the knowledge to maintain their cities,” Ciri said.

“Doesn’t seem like they have much choice,” Noah said.

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“I wouldn’t say that.” Mara shook her head.

“Oh? What would you do, if you were in charge?”

“They need incentive, sure — but withholding basic knowledge that lets people live clean, sanitary, longer lives isn’t the way.” Mara leaned forward, warming to the topic. “I’d give all the lordships — Whisperwood and Greythorne included — a permanent seat at the table. Let them be present for negotiations with the summer and winter Fae, able to voice concerns before trade deals are signed. Let their guard forces train with the Therondale army, build bonds, see we’re not the enemy. I’d invest in joint projects — things in their regions, like the mine at Grayson Mountain that’s been underfunded for decades.” Her eyes lit up. “It’s hard to hate someone for what their ancestors did centuries ago when they’re improving your life right now. And giving them a real voice makes it feel like their country too, not one forced on them.”

Noah sat back, stunned by her enthusiasm. “Shit, Mara, you should be wearing the crown.”

She flushed and laughed. “Like that will ever happen.”

“I’m serious,” he said, grinning. “A speech like that? People would rally behind you.”

“Yes, well, that’s very kind, but—”

A knock came at the door before the librarian — an older, grey‑haired woman — poked her head in and smiled. “I’m sorry, but this room is reserved for the rest of the evening. Please pack up your things and go. I promise you can finish studying for…” She glanced at the wide array of books on the table, then shook her head. “Whatever it is you’re studying for tomorrow.”

Seeing no point in arguing, Noah nodded and stood. Ciri adjusted her headscarf before doing the same, packing their notebooks away and gathering the enormous pile of books. As they stepped into the hall, they spotted a second‑year student standing just behind the door beside the librarian, his hand firmly planted on her backside.

I can understand MILFs, but… GILFs? Noah thought, resisting the urge to shake his head. Everybody’s got a thing, I guess.

They wordlessly placed the books on the returns shelf near the front of the library and stepped out through the main doors. Small groups of students drifted past, leaving their evening classes and chatting among themselves, barely noticing the trio. It wasn’t until they’d left the academy grounds entirely that Mara finally broke the silence.

“So, same time tomorrow?”

“Actually, we might be a little late,” Noah said, thinking of the designs he’d just finished. “I want to try something first.”

“Oh.” The disappointment in her voice was unmistakable.

He slumped his shoulders, reconsidering. “Actually… why don’t you come by tomorrow morning? You can see what I’m working on.”

“Is this the mysterious project that needed silk?” she asked, looking up at him.

He laughed. “Yes. Yes it is.”

“Then I’ll be there early. With breakfast.”

“Sounds good.”

The three of them chatted easily all the way back to the residences, parting with a hug when they reached the front door to the main dorms. As they walked away, Ciri took Noah’s hand and squeezed it, guiding him back toward their visiting house. Given the enthusiasm she’d shown in the bedroom since they’d grown closer to Mara, his mind couldn’t help but veer straight into the gutter, conjuring images of the various antics they might get up to later.

Unfortunately for him, those thoughts were cut short by a furry, feathered black missile slamming into him the moment he closed the door.

“Hey! No claws!” Noah yelped as Piper clung to him.

A haggard‑looking Ken stood several paces behind, shaking his head. “She’s been like this all day. Completely feral.”

“Did you let her out to fly around?”

“I did, but she tried to fly above the fence.”

Noah looked down at the bundle of fur clinging to his chest, raising an eyebrow. “Were you not listening to Ken?”

In response, she leapt off him and began flapping her wings, circling him while squawking indignantly.

“Is Piper unwell?” Ciri asked, concern tightening her voice as she watched the hatchling.

“No.” Noah sighed. “She needs exercise. She needs to get out of the house. Somewhere new — not just the backyard.”

“If she gets caught by the guards, they’ll put her down,” Ken warned.

“If she breaks a window and draws attention to us, we’ll all be in trouble,” Noah countered.

“It is nearly dark,” Ciri noted, glancing outside. “Perhaps there is somewhere in the city she could fly unobserved? Her natural coloring would make her difficult to see at night.”

Noah furrowed his brow, then grinned and kissed her cheek. “You’re a genius.”

“You know somewhere?” Ken asked.

“Yeah.” Noah set his bag down and began removing the books. “It’s not far. And from what Mara told me, it’s been practically deserted since last week — especially after dark.”

“Last week…” Ciri murmured, then looked at him. “You are thinking about the docks.”

“Yeah. She can fly above the water.” He turned to Piper and gestured to the now‑empty bag. “How about it? Want to get in the bag?”

She completed two more circles before tucking her wings and diving straight into the leather satchel. She hit the bottom with an undignified whomp, making Noah’s eyes go wide. He frantically pulled the flap open — only to find her happily prancing around inside, making a sound somewhere between a meow and a squawk.

“Crazy griffon,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You stay down until I let you out. Understand?”

She made another odd chirp before curling into a content little ball.

“I guess I’m taking a walk then.” Noah shrugged, looking at Ciri and Ken. “Save us some dinner for when we get back?”

“Be safe,” Ciri said, kissing him softly and handing him his crossbow before heading toward the kitchen.

Noah took a moment to secure the bag and tuck the crossbow beneath his coat, then stepped outside. He followed the curve of the outer ring toward the docks, reaching the gate just as the sun dipped below the horizon. As he passed the guards, one of them called out.

“Hey, you! Academy student!”

Noah froze, instincts flaring, and turned. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Are you sure you want to be going to the docks at this hour?” the man asked, jogging up to him.

“Why not?” Noah asked, feigning confusion.

“There was an attack. The guard thinks there’s a rogue conduit with combat magic on the loose.”

Noah glanced around. “I’m guessing that’s why nobody’s here? Everyone’s afraid of a rumor?”

“It’s not a rumor. There was an attack.”

“I’ll be fine,” Noah said with what he hoped was a disarming smile. “It’s perfectly safe.”

“Patrols to this area are suspended,” the guard warned. “If you call for us, we can’t guarantee we’ll come right away.”

“I understand. I’ll be fine.” Noah turned and walked off.

Every instinct screamed at him not to turn his back on a potential threat, but Ken’s training overrode it — and a moment later he heard the guard’s footsteps retreating, followed by hushed conversation. As Noah moved deeper into the docks, his suspicion was confirmed: the place was deserted.

“There we go,” he murmured, slipping behind a warehouse and unlatching his bag. “Is that better?”

Piper popped her head out and cooed, swiveling her head with wide, curious eyes. A pang of guilt hit him — this was the first time in over a month she’d seen anything beyond a tavern room or the visitor’s house. Determined to make up for it, he narrated as he walked toward the long pier.

“That’s a warehouse — people store stuff there before it goes to shops. Past it, those white sails? Ships. They carry people over water. We’ll probably take you on one when we go back to the tribe.” Another pang — guilt mixed with longing. “You’ll get to meet Hannah too.”

Piper tilted her head.

“Hannah?” Noah chuckled. “Oh, you’ll like her. She’s great. Very different from Ciri — more practical than academic. Still amazing.”

She blinked twice.

“Yes, I like her,” Noah admitted. “We kissed. Once. Before you hatched. We wanted to do more, but the timing wasn’t right. I’d still like to.”

She squawked softly.

“Who, Mara?” Noah said as the stone walkway gave way to the creaking wood of the dock. “Yeah, she’s great too. But no, I haven’t done anything with her. Not that I don’t want to. I do.”

Piper clawed her way out of the bag and launched herself into the air. She soared into the darkening sky, her black fur and feathers nearly invisible against the deepening blue. Stars blinked awake overhead.

“Good talk,” Noah chuckled, settling at the end of the dock and dangling his feet above the water. He tried to track Piper, but she vanished into the night sky, so he leaned back and watched the stars instead.

She brings up a good point though, he thought. What happens if I get involved with Mara too? She wouldn’t come back to the tribe. Too complicated. And no matter what Ciri says, I’m not even sure Mara’s interested. Maybe it’s better left as a fantasy.

His thoughts were cut short when Piper landed beside him, dropping something metallic onto the wood before nuzzling his hand. He stroked her head, then picked up the object — a metal clasp with a beautifully carved griffon on the front. He ran his thumb over the intricate detail, wondering who had crafted it.

“Where did you—”

Shouting echoed from somewhere nearby.

“Oh fuck. Piper, get in the bag.”

She arched her back and squawked in protest.

“Piper.” His tone hardened. “Bag. Now.”

Sensing his fear, she hopped in. He barely had time to drop the clasp in with her and fasten the bag before he saw them: a group of figures approaching with torches.

At first he wondered why the guards would come after telling him they wouldn’t — but as they drew closer, the truth hit him like ice.

Black cloaks. Silver armor. Winged helmets. Griffon insignia.

His blood ran cold.

“You there!” the lead one shouted in accented Common. “Do not move!”