The guy was visibly flustered. “The town doesn’t have a mayor, anymore. The Grundys killed him.”
“Well, as the former Captain of the King’s Men, I’m going to appoint you the new mayor, then. Until we can set up a fair election.” Galahad wasn’t sure he could legally do that, but who was going to stop him?
“Can you do that?” Trystan demanded doubtfully. “I do not think you can do that.”
“Well, we can check the rules and call the lawyers…” Galahad shrugged at the bearded guy, indicating what a long and drawn out process that would be. “But, my way would be so much more efficient. We have to get things moving, right? The town needs leadership.”
“Sure.” The guy bobbed his head. “We gotta move. Absolutely.” He paused. “Where are we going?”
Trystan rolled his eyes.
Galahad tapped the bearded man on the chest with his index finger, like a recruiting officer offering a young cadet some grand new adventure. “We’re going forward. And you’re the only logical choice to take us there.”
“I am?”
“He is?” Trystan asked at the same time.
“Of course! It’s important that a community have someone responsible at the helm and I can tell you’re a man who gets things done. I admire that.”
The thwarted-savior looked fascinated, now. “Really?” He tossed his torch away, like he thought it wouldn’t be a good look for his new political career. Scorpions scattered. “You think I’m a leader?”
“You bet I do. Look how you rallied your men to rescue me. It was inspiring.”
“His men fled.” Trystan intoned sourly.
Galahad rose above that negativity. “What’s your name?” He asked the bearded man.
“Uh, Ted.”
“What do you know about sand, Ted?”
“Sand?” He seemed to wrack his brain for a moment. “Well, there’s a lot of it on the ground around here.”
“Exactly!” Galahad praised. “It’s so perceptive of you to notice that potential.”
Ted beamed. “I notice it all the time.” He boasted. “It gets in my boots.”
Trystan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed dramatically.
“Now, Ted, the other day Trystan was telling me that there’s a lot of strong magic, in this part of the world.”
“I told you that, because it’s true.” Trystan put in, seeing a golden opportunity to list off potential dangers, again. “The spells out here are more primal and unpredictable. It will get worse as we move west and leave even this much ‘civilization’ behind.” He waved a disparaging hand around the hotel. “You need to be careful and use your head. That was my point, knight. Although you seemed to have missed it, entirely.”
Galahad ignored that last remark. “So you see, Ted, the sand in this desert is filled with magic. It’s why the sandmen like it so much.” Galahad was surprised that he was the only one who’d put that together. He’d been thinking about it since his experience in Medusa’s tomb. “Now, we don’t have their powers, so we can’t make genuine sleeping sand. But, I was thinking maybe we could make lower-dose sleeping potions to help insomniacs.”
“Lyrssa save me.” Trystan groaned, seeing where this was headed.
Ted seemed baffled. “You wanna put people to sleep?”
“No. Well, yes, but only medicinally. We can refine the sand and sell it to pharmacies, all over the world. Lots of people would buy it. It can relax them. It’s a whole industry, just waiting for the right man to develop it.”
Trystan had heard enough. “No, knight.” He shoved away from the doorframe. “I’m not paying for a factory. I don’t care how shimmery your hair is.” He flopped down onto the ancient carpet by the bed, again, slanting Galahad a frown. “And how the hell does your hair stay so shimmery, when you are forever without a hat to protect it?”
“With industry comes jobs and prosperity.” Galahad told Ted, disregarding Trystan’s complaints.
“There’s not going to be an industry.” Trystan insisted. “Why are you still talking about this?”
Galahad kept talking. He’d been the Knights’ Academy’s entire debate team and they’d never lost a championship. Even the year he’d had to argue against himself in the finals. “With prosperity comes less crime and more education. You see that, right, Ted?
“I guess. We could… buy books, maybe?” It sounded like a question.
“Books!” Galahad clapped his hands together like that was a genius idea. “I should have thought of that myself. We’ll use profits from the factory to buy books. Great thinking.”
Ted seemed pleased with himself. “I got --like-- four books at home.”
“I’m not building this shithole town a factory or buying them books.” Trystan repeated a little desperately. “You’re wasting your time with this little play you’re preforming, knight. I am unmoved.”
That sounded like a dare.
“It’s amazing how you’re willing to confront the cycle of poverty head on.” Galahad told Ted persuasively, even though Trystan was his only real audience. “As the standard of living goes up, bigotry and scapegoating will go down. Children will be raised and protected in happy homes. Children who had no say in where they were born. Blameless little beings, who just need some help to survive.”
Trystan flashed Galahad a withering glare. “I am not expending resources on these hopeless people. You are not a skilled enough actor to sway me.”
“I’m not acting. I truly think there’s always hope in children and we should nurture it. I think it’s our duty to help them, no matter their race or their parents.”
“You think I will do whatever you wish, because I always do whatever you wish. But, I am not doing this. Not even for you.”
“I’m not trying to make you do anything that you don’t want to do.” Galahad glanced at him over his shoulder and went in for the kill. “But, I think the innocent belong to all who would care for them. And I think you think so, too.”
Trystan’s jaw tightened.
Galahad arched a brow.
The bedrock philosophy of gryphon culture lay between them for a moment.
…And then the fight was over.
“Goddamn it.” Trystan seethed, folding because he was too Good a man not to. “I should have just let them abscond with you, knight.” He clicked on the TV again, stunningly beautiful and pissed at the world. “It would have saved me no end of trouble.”
Galahad suppressed a grin. Trystan really was a pushover. It was adorable. He looked back at Ted. “Soon, this place will be a haven for all types of people and every one of them will admire you, Mayor. I can see it all in my head. Can’t you?”
Ted slowly nodded. “Yeah.” He breathed, drawing out the word. “Maybe they’ll even name the town after me. How ‘bout that?”
“Sounds great!”
“Sounds fucking wonderful. I’m going to own a sand factory in Ted-ville.” Trystan shook his head in resignation. “Of course I am. How did I not see it coming?” He brooded for a beat. “And I am not claiming you back, knight. I do not say I am yours. Not yet.”
Yet.
That was fine. Galahad could be patient. Half of his military successes came about because he was willing to just straight-up outlast the other guy.
“I mean it.” Trystan continued. “I’m not claiming you tonight. I’m not sleeping with you, either. I have many other options I am considering, when it comes to dealing with you.”
No, he didn’t. Trystan was his and there was nothing the gryphon could do about it. The battle was over. Now, he just had to wait for Trystan to realize it, too.
Galahad kept right on smiling at Mayor Ted, disregarding all the pessimistic muttering from the love of his life. “So, let’s talk about infrastructure…”
Chapter Seventeen
I was with King Uther on two of the campaigns and you know who answered directly to him, every single day?
The fucking Yellow Boots! Remember them?
&
nbsp; Even gryphons knew gryphons were assholes. Yellow Boots wanted to work for us. They were thrilled to be cleaning our tents and telling us the savages’ secrets. Because they knew that was their rightful place.
Serving their betters, as we swept the world clean of the gryphons’ filth.
“Stopping the Savages” Podcast
Sir Dragonet of Camelot- Former Troubadour of King Uther and Host of the Program
Pellinore Foothills- West of Ted-ville
Three nights later, Galahad woke up, covered in sweat, his heart pounding and a shout caught in his throat. In his head, he could still smell the smoke and hear the cries of the dying. Legion never left him. It never would. He didn’t deserve to sleep without dreaming of it.
Goddamn it.
Breathing hard, he tried to wipe the images from his mind. It was impossible. They were seared there like acid burns. Nothing could make them fade short of death. At his lowest point, Galahad had considered that option, but it was a path without redemption. More than anything he wanted to be a Good man. Wanted to live up to the Knights’ Code and protect the innocent.
And so he always kept trying for another day.
He laid his head back down, knowing he wouldn’t get back to sleep. Trystan had fastened the ropes to a rock so Galahad’s arms were stretched above his head. He’d also arranged the saddle blankets under him, so he’d have a mattress and pillow. He’d grunted when Galahad thanked him and went off to sleep on his own side of the fire.
Alone.
Who could blame him for that part, really? Optimism was easier to find in the light. Galahad could feel assured of winning Trystan over all day, but at night the doubts rose. Why the hell would someone like Trystan want someone like him? Galahad let out a shaky breath and squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he was somebody else. Anyone else. Someone beautiful.
“All warriors have nightmares, knight.”
Galahad’s eyes popped open to find Trystan standing over him. Just seeing him made the panic recede a bit. “Memories come back at night.” He admitted, still trying to calm his heartrate.
“They do.” Trystan agreed. “And they will until you let the past go. You are beyond them now. You are a different man than the one in those recollections, yes?”
“What if I’m not?” It was a whisper. “What if I’m still the Butcher of Legion?”
“You are incapable of butchering anyone.” Trystan crouched down next to him. “Whatever happened that day…”
“I killed an unarmed man.” The words were stark.
Trystan regarded him in surprise.
“I ran him through with my sword, because I was… gone. In that second, I was gone, Trys, and someone else was inside of me.” Galahad stared at something far away. “…And that person in my body? He could have killed everyone in the world.”
Trystan sighed. “Yes. I have been to that place, too.”
Galahad glanced at him, pulled from the terrible recollections. “You have?”
“In war, darkness calls to us all. I told you this. But it fades, after we are away from the battle and reconnected to our clan. All soldiers have done things that haunt them. Terrible things. Do not let these memories consume you.”
“Have you ever killed an unarmed man?” Galahad seriously doubted it. “Ever in your life?”
“I threw Sir Perceval through a window, once. He may or may not have been armed, when he died on the ground below. I honestly didn’t notice.”
Galahad blinked. “You killed Perceval?”
“Technically, the fall killed him. I do not count him among those who died by my hand. I’ve only slain four hundred and eighty-four men. The rest all died of natural causes. I told you this, yes?”
By Galahad’s count, Trystan had killed nine people, since the last time he gave the tally, but somehow he was only crediting himself with four. Which four and why was anyone’s guess.
“Tossing someone out a window isn’t a ‘natural cause,’ Trys. Neither is a sword through the liver, during a battle. Even if some of those guys in the War died in a hospital tent, you killed them.”
Trystan didn’t agree. “The men still breathed when I was through with them. I cannot be blamed that your army employed substandard medics and did not retrieve the wounded fast enough. Just as it is not my fault that Percival cannot fly.” He paused. “You are upset at what I did to him?”
“No. Percival was a terrible person, who I’m sure did something to start that fight. He hated gryphons. It was zealotry. At Legion, he and Bedivere were laughing…” He broke off, not wanting to remember.
“The Martyr of Legion was laughing during the battle?”
“It wasn’t a battle.” Galahad said quietly.
“But he was laughing as children died?”
“I think half of the knights were laughing. In my memories, it’s as loud as the screams.”
Trystan rubbed his eyes, like he was exhausted right down to his soul.
A long moment passed. Too ashamed to look at Trystan, Galahad stared up at the sky. They were traveling into the mountains, now. The higher they went, the brighter the night sky became. Sometimes he dreamed of visiting the moon, where absolutely no one knew him. “How many stars do you think there are?”
“Two thousand and four.”
Galahad glanced at him, surprised by that very precise answer.
“I used to count them often, during the War. Trying to sleep. Two thousand and four was as high as I ever got.”
“I do the same thing. I counted to thirty-eight hundred once. By then it was morning.”
“You would sleep easier if you spoke of your nightmares.” Trystan’s palm ran over his hair. “Do you wish to tell me of them? I will listen without judgement. I give you my word.”
Galahad didn’t say anything.
Trystan nodded, accepting the silence. “Rest, then. I will watch over you.”
Galahad could have let it go at that. Trystan clearly expected him to. But not sharing his memories suddenly seemed harder than remaining quiet. “I was the one who found the path to Legion.” He announced without preamble.
Trystan’s head tilted, but he stayed quiet, like he was afraid anything he said would cause Galahad to stop talking.
“It was my fault.” Galahad continued. Trystan would probably hate him and he deserved it. “Uther never would have gone there, if not for me.”
“Did you know it was a town filled with civilians?”
“No. Of course not. It was the capitol of your people, so I thought it was a military stronghold. That’s what the Yellow Boots told Uther. At least, that’s what he said that they said. Who can know if it’s true? Maybe he misunderstood them. Maybe he just lied to me.” He swallowed. “Christ, there’s so much I believed that turned out to be lies.”
“That’s how you found Legion? The Yellow Boots told you the way?”
“No. You have to be taught to navigate the Checkered Plains and none of them had ever been given the instructions. I don’t know why.”
“Many Yellow Boots came from the Sunchase Clan. They lived like feral beasts, even before the War. They were never to be trusted, so it would make sense that the information would be kept from them.”
“I don’t know.” Galahad repeated. “I didn’t know any Yellow Boots. They answered directly to Uther. In the end, I paid a drunk gryphon in a bar for the instructions. He’d been born in Legion, so he knew the path. He was pissed at the town. I think he said they’d demoted him from sentry or something.”
Trystan’s calm façade faltered. “Some random gryphon sold you directions to Legion? For spite and drinking money?”
“Yes.”
Trystan made an aggravated sound. “Then the bastard would have sold it to another knight, had you not been there. Uther would have gone there, anyway. There is no need for you to take that weight upon yourself. That gryphon was the one who betrayed his people.” His voice spat out the last part.
Trystan hated traitors more than anything
. Even knights.
Galahad sighed. “But the guy didn’t sell it to someone else. He sold it to me and everyone died. There were so many children lying in that grass afterwards, Trys. So many. Not all of them were gryphons, because your people took in orphans from other races.” Gryphons treasured children. How could Trystan even look at him, knowing what he’d done? “My people slaughtered them. It wasn’t war. It was murder.”
“I do not believe that the same knight who let my men escape at the Battle of Flags, rather than shoot us in the back, executed children at Legion.” Trystan murmured. “You told Solomon that you do not open fire on women and children. That it violates your code.”
“It does violate the code.”
“Then explain to me what happened that day.”
“Uther was there and that took me out of direct command. Usually, he was far from the frontline, but we all knew this could be the last battle. I think he wanted to be there, for the history books. So they could write about him facing down the enemy. He was there, giving orders…” Galahad could still hear his voice screaming for the Rath. “Everything knights are supposed to stand for was broken.”
“I have never seen you go against what you stand for. Not even once.” Trystan shook his head, like he still didn’t accept the story. “This is why Uther did not have you burning temples, yes? Because even he knew you would not violate the oath you took as a knight.”
“It was the end of the War, so he didn’t care what I saw. And it was all happening so fast and I was so stupid. So brainwashed into hating your kind. So sure I was on the right side. I didn’t stop, even when I had doubts. I didn’t understand until it was too late. I should’ve questioned…”
Trystan cut him off, deciding to go with more direct questioning. “How many children did you slay, Galahad?”
“All of them.” The answer was immediate and true.
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